A/N: I have found a lovely beta reader named Batman McGhee who is just as into this story as I am so I apologize in advance if I don't update as often as I would most certainly like to. Good news is that I have another 2 or 3 chapters up my sleeve to post in a few days time. Happy Reading! Don't forget to R&R!

Chapter 5: Saints Row

He dragged her down the street by her elbow. She was struggling, but following. Murphy cursed under his breath and clasped her arm tighter. He had to explain to her the seriousness of what she had just been given. Before he could do that however, he had to get out of the public eye. People were starting to stare at the pair of them arguing in hushed voices. He could hear her swearing up a storm behind him and as they rounded a corner, a searing pain flashed through his arm.

"Hit me all ye like, yer coming with me… there is something I have to tell ye but I can't do it here." He said over his shoulder. It was only a few more blocks to his apartment with Connor; soon he could let her go.

He heard her snort in indignation.

"Seriously Murphy, ye need to stop acting like such a child. If ye had said that this had something to do with yer job I'd have listened! Christ, instead ye harden yer eyes, grab me square round the elbow and march me off to god knows where like I'm the one being punished." Then she laughed,

"This some serious Clint Eastwood shit yer doin', acting all macho. Ye may be tough shit Murphy MacManus, but ye have to know by now that I can see through ye."

Taking a deep breath he restrained himself. He couldn't believe he was going to admit this in public, to a woman much less. Fucking Connor.

"Charlie Bronson." He corrected.

"Pardon me?" she asked incredulously.

Yer thinking Charlie Bronson, and no, I'm not acting like a tough shit, though I don't know fer sure if ye even know what the word tough means." He smirked to himself as he listened to her huff at the statement.

"If I thought that 'acting tough on ye' would do ye some good I'd have already done it. We're going to see Connor, maybe he'll be able to help me get this through yer thick head, ye can't do this alone anymore."

She sighed, "Ye know… I'm bloody bare foot, dragging me around like this isn't going to get us anywhere faster."

Murphy rolled his eyes. God, give me strength, he prayed silently.

"We're almost there; can yer poor little feet take another step or two? This is the fucking door." He replied flippantly as he ripped open the door to the building and shoved her inside.

* * * *

Connor looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table. Murphy was back.

"We got a fucking problem." his brother called as he dragged a dishevelled looking Branna in through the front door. Connor cleared his throat and neatly folded the paper before setting it down.

"And what might that be brother?" he answered.

Murphy gave him a look and tossed a handful of papers down onto the table. He then turned and shrugged his coat off, lobbing it across the room where it landed in a pile on the floor. Branna was standing in entry, her arms crossed firmly across her chest. She looked a mess, her hair sticking out at odd angles and, as Connor noticed, she had no shoes on.

"Feeling a wee bit hippy today are we lass?" Connor jibed. Her scowl told him probably not.

Murphy hadn't said anything, he just pointed to the papers he'd thrown on the table. Connor pulled them towards him and began to flip through them. The first thing he saw were the pictures. Black and white, taken with a night vision camera obviously. The first one was of Branna with Murphy's pistol cocked at her head. He frowned. The second shot was a close up of Branna and Murphy in a standoff. It was a higher angled shot. Branna's face was clear as day, he could see Murphy's tattoo and the side of his face. The last, was of the three of them fleeing the scene. Murphy was lifting Branna over his shoulder and his face was clearly visible. Connor saw himself picking up Branna's gun as he fired a few rounds. This was a problem.

"Aye," was all he could muster.

"Did ye read the note?" Murphy asked in frustration. He was pacing back and forth slamming his hands down on the counter.

Connor looked through the pictures again and found the note card stuck to the back of one of them. Reading it over, he frowned deeper.

"Where did ye find these Murph?"

Murphy pointed over at the angry woman he'd obviously forced here against her will. Branna licked her lips and came forward. She ripped the chair away from the table and threw herself down into it.

"Well seein' as yer stupid brother here dragged me 12 blocks because he doesn't use his fucking ears," she thrust a finger in Murphy's direction. Connor smirked.

"He came over today to have 'chat' with me, and while he was manhandlin' me, someone pushed this under me door." she explained as she took a cigarette out of the open pack on the table.

"MANHANDLIN' YE?" his brothers face went red. "MANHANDLIN' YE? If I do recall right, YE were the one who jumped me bones while this was being delivered!"

Connor raised an eyebrow. He looked at Branna. Her eyes went wide.

"Ye started it first Murphy MacManus! Ye were the one-"

"Oi, I don't need to know what the fuck happened between the two of ye, that's not me concern. Me concern be with who sent this to ye." He interjected, raising his hands up.

When Connor wouldn't hear none of it, both Branna and Murphy started hollering at each other. Curses flying like knives through the air, they were waving their arms and he couldn't make out one word of what they were saying.

The pair of them, it was ridiculous. Connor felt like he was dealing with two teenagers. It had always been like this with the two of them. They couldn't go two minutes without a scrap. He knew that part of it was his twin's failure to see reason and part of it was Branna's inability to realize that she wasn't always right. The other part? Connor didn't think he'd ever figure it out.

They were standing toe to toe now. Murphy was flailing his arms around while Branna jabbed a finger into his chest. Shaking his head at the sight, Connor tried to interject.

"Shut it!" they both screamed at him before returning to their argument.

That was it. Connor stepped between the two of them and placed a hand on either shoulder giving them a hard shove. They fell back, silenced. Finally, he sighed.

"Shut yer gobs! We got more to worry about here than who did what where and to whom. I don't give a rat's ass what the fuck happened. What I need to know now, which neither of ye have been courteous enough to tell me, is WHO THE FUCK SENT THESE!"

* * * *

Branna stared at Connor. He was standing in between her and Murphy. Sliding a glare over in his general direction, she turned back to Connor.

"Colin. At least, that's the only person I can think of who would have anything against me."

She saw the recognition fall across his face. Nodding he turned back to the table and picked up the papers.

"She wasn't gonna bring this to our attention!" Murphy added angrily. "Apparently, 'this isn't our business'," he imitated her with air quotes.

"That's because ye ain't got a bloody clue as to what yer dealing with! He's obviously just tryin' to scare me. I always knew he was keeping tabs on me, that's how I could never find him! Ye don't need to be me cavalry. I'm a big girl Murphy! I managed all those years without ye, I don't need ye now!" she spat.

Almost immediately, she regretted it. Her chest pulled tight when she saw the angry pain flicker in his eyes.

"Maybe yer right. Maybe Con, we should just let her go and get herself killed. I don't even know why I'm botherin'. We don't need her to find out who took the pictures. We can deal with this ourselves."

"Now wait just a minute here. If ye both would just calm down for one bloody second, I'm sure there's a way we can figure this out." Connor replied, looking down at the information.

"When was the last time ye had any word on Colin?" he asked, looking up at Branna.

She sat down. It'd been well over a year since she had any actual confirmation of where Colin Fitzpatrick had been doing his dirty work. He'd turned into a contract bomb maker. He went were there was work. It was how she'd ended up in Spain. He'd gone to make bombs for the E.T.A, the zealots of the Basque. She'd followed leads from Madrid to Barcelona, across the Spanish countryside and the edge of Portugal before giving up her search. The last she'd heard, he was long gone and no one knew where he was going next.

"Te be quite honest, it was a long time ago. He was running for Portugal. The Policía were on his trail after a set of timed bombs went off in Barcelona. I lost track of him after that. Couldn't pick up his trail again. That's how I ended up coming here. The man's like a ghost. Every time I got a whiff of where he might have been, by the time I got there, his operation had picked up and left." she explained.

Connor nodded. Murphy had taken to leaning against the empty countertop. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Alright then. Well, obviously he's turned up in Boston. We'll have to start from there." Connor said.

Branna went to object, but he cut her off.

"No buts about it lass. He has pictures of us. That won't do at all. Sorry to have to burst yer little bubble, but yer gonna have to put up with my arsehead of a brother at least until this is finished."

She sighed.

"Fine then, what d'ye s'pose we do about it?"

It was obvious they weren't going to let her do this alone. She might as well take whatever help they wanted to offer. There was no point in arguing with the MacManus brothers when they got an idea in their thick heads. She knew that for a fact.

Branna was sitting on the front porch of the cottage. She was tired; it had been a particularly long day on the job. Donnelly had sent her out to the countryside to clean up after a rather important business meeting. She'd spent almost an hour getting all the blood out from under her nails. Leaning back against the rails she heard the crunch of gravel. She flicked her cigarette ashes into the bushes and swivelled around. When she saw him, she felt the smile creeping up her cheeck.

He was standing there, in the middle of her driveway, with his hands in his pockets.

"Well hello there." she said with a grin as she raised herself. Taking a drag, she stepped down off the porch while he made his way up to her.

"Hello." he said quietly with a smile.

Then he leaned down and kissed her. Her cigarette had fallen from her fingers as she'd wrapped her arms around him. Her hands played with his growing hair, it was nearly at his shoulders. He and his twin had decided to grow beards. She was constantly poking fun at them for it. His whiskers tickled her face. She giggled.

"Ye need to shave that thing off. I don't know if I like kissing meself a goat." She playfully pushed him back. He only laughed and kissed her again.

The last year had been one of the best in Branna's life. Being with Murphy MacManus had made it all seem easier. With him she could forget her job as the R.I.R.A lackey, she could forget about Colin Fitzpatrick. He was her island, her secret refuge. It almost felt as if time with him made time itself stand still. They didn't have to talk, it was bliss.

"I think I'll get the shears meself. Just gimme a second to find some…" she joked as they made their way back to the porch steps.

Taking a seat beside him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Leaning in she smelled the fresh country air and cut grass coming out of his woolen sweater. He kissed the top of her head gently.

"So my shepherd love, what d'ye feel like? I was just about to make meself a meal." she asked looking up at him from his shoulder.

"Oh, I dunno, I was feelin' a bit like some more of this…" he growled as she pulled her down onto the wooden porch. "Aye, it's been too long since I've had a Branna sangwich."

She laughed as he mawled her. Nudging him with her knees, she managed to wiggle out from underneath him.

"I love ye Murphy MacManus. Ye have got to be the most wonderful thing about this island."She said as she brushed a lock of hair from his face.

They were laying now, arms and legs stretched out on the porch. They must've looked a sight to anyone passing on the road, two bodies, prostrate on the front porch of a rundown old cottage.

"I know, I've seen the other blokes. Ye were lucky." he quipped rolling onto his back.

She swatted him playfully, snuggling close to him so she could place her hand on his chest. He fumbled into his pocket for something. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of his breathing. She loved this, the fact that they could lay like teenagers, listen to the quiet sounds of the farmland around them. He shifted out from underneath her and sat up. She groaned with the displeasure of having to move.

Sitting up she rubbed her hands over her face. When she looked at him, he was a step down, kneeling on the ground. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"What are ye doin' fool? Get up off yer knees, I'll go in and make us up something outta me fridge. I'm starvin'."

"Branna, I've been meanin' to get this off me chest for a while." His eyes were suddenly serious. "Since I met ye, the day ye almost took off me face with yer fist there, I knew that there was somethin' about ye I had to have. Then, when ye were mine, I thought things couldn't get any better because I finally had someone who understood the parts of me that I thought only me flesh and blood would understand…"

"Murphy, what are ye goin' on about?" Branna asked with suspicion.

He sat back and didn't answer. After a few moments, he slid something onto her left hand. She gasped. On her ring finger was a golden claddagh. A green emerald heart was fixed in the center, with the hands caressing it and the crown. The point of the heart faced inwards, pointing up her arm to where the blood pumped straight to her heart. She had no words.

"I want to spend the rest of me life with ye." he finally said. She went to open her mouth but he shushed her."Now don't go and start the whole, it's too soon business because I know ye. I know ye think I can't understand yer business with the folk I seen ye running around for. I want ye to know that I don't care. I've seen me fair share of things in this life, and I know that if there is anyone here on this whole earth who could accept me no conditions, its you."

No matter what Branna could have said, she knew she wouldn't have been able to change his mind. Marriage, a life with him, she wanted nothing more. Her biggest fear back then had been her involvement with the R.I.R.A. Not many of them were married, and if they were, they were married to the evil they spread. She'd wanted to say no, that she wasn't ready. But when she'd looked into his eyes, his brilliantly blue eyes, she couldn't. They'd spent the evening in bed, followed by the next, and the next. Then he'd come to her home the night she'd killed the Army's assassin.

"Branna? Earth to Branna?" Connors voice jerked her back into the conversation.

"What?" she answered sharply.

She caught her right hand caressing the spot where the ring had once sat. She quickly spread her hands out on the table in front of her. She looked out of the corner of her eye to see Murphy watching her. His gaze intense.

"Well, if we're gonna try and find out who sent this to ye, we're gonna have to go for a bit of a jog," Connor answered. "And fer that, yer gonna need some shoes."