Chapter 7: Leave it to Connor

The trio walked along the streets; Branna and Murphy , following Connor blindly as he turned left, then right and then left again. What were they doing? Christ, Murphy felt like they were going in circles. After they'd passed the same hotdog stand for the fourth time, he had to say something.

"D'ye even know where we're goin'?"

Connor shot him a glare.

"Alls he said was that it was an internet café on Hill Street. That was where he met Ghost every time he did work with him."

Murphy clenched his jaw. Leave it to Connor to leave before any real information presented itself. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to restrain himself.

"Fan-fucking-tastic! A place. On Hill Street. Ye know that Hill Street is like… 5 miles long eh?"

Sensing that Murphy's words could turn into another brawl, Branna stepped in, pointing across the street. There was a small coffee shop that advertised computer use and free Internet.

"Look, that looks like a place we can start."

She started across the street, not giving the men a chance to object. Stepping up the curb, she hopped onto the front steps of the storefront and pulled open the door. Before she entered, she looked back. Both brothers were standing like they weren't sure how to approach the situation.

"What? Scared of the pale-faced techies?" She asked. Neither of them moved. With a sigh she stepped inside. "Lets go."

As they entered the dimly lit shop, she saw that their work would be a lot more difficult than they'd anticipated. There were tables with computers everywhere. Each one had some poor fella or lass glued to their seat, eyes focusing on the flickering screens in front of them. There was a small bar style counter that jut out from the far side. A coffee bar sat next to it with a seemingly unpleasant young man reading a book while minding the till. This was not going to go well. She could sense it.

Her time with the R.I.R.A had given her a good sense of judgment when it came to conversations regarding information. There were ways to try and talk someone into giving it to you, and ways to make them give it to you. She felt like this situation would probably end with the latter. With a sigh, she strode across the hardwood floor and cleared her throat.

"We're looking for someone." She said, leaning on the counter.

The young man looked up from his book and lifted and eyebrow.

"And what makes you think you'll find them here?" he said, gesturing to the rows upon rows of customers.

"A fairly reliable source." Branna replied.

The young man looked unfazed. Cocking the eyebrow again, he leaned across the table.

"Alright. I'm the usual night manager, got a name for this person?"

Branna looked over her shoulder at Connor and glared. This was supposed to be his job but the idiot was standing behind her looking around casually, pretending that he couldn't hear her.

"All I have a username. He's called The Ghost." She said simply with her palms spread out open. The boys' head dropped forward in doubt.

"Don't look at me like that." Branna scowled. " I need to find this guy, and fast. Either ye tell me if ye know anyone in here who goes by that, or they," She flicked her head back to the brothers. "Will make yer life a living hell."

Catching her intentions, they stepped up to the counter.

"Look lady, we get hundreds of people in here a day. What makes you think I'd even know this Ghost person?" the boy said dryly.

Branna stiffened. He was getting cocky. This wouldn't do.

"Just answer me question," she looked down at his nametag, "Michael. Trust me when I say that you do not want this to get ugly." She emphasized her point by casually adjusting her coat so that the Browning was visible. She watched his eyes widen in shock briefly before he reclaimed composure. He backed up a step.

"Look! Like I said, we get tons of people in here everyday. We don't see what their usernames are. I don't have a clue!" his attitude came down.

Branna covered her holster and straightened up. This was going nowhere. It was ridiculous to have come here in the first place. Leave it to Connor to get them on a blind chase.

"Well then. Thanks. Sorry to have troubled ye." She muttered as she turned on her heel and walked out, Murphy and Connor in tow.

* * * *

After another hour of walking Hill Street for Internet cafés, the general consensus was that nothing was going to come of the "lead" Connor had found. Branna had finally given up being the lead investigator and their search had come to screeching halt.

Now, the trio were approaching Branna's flat. They were all starving and Branna refused to go back to the MacManus abode without first bringing reserves. Connor had scoffed saying that they didn't need anything but when Branna asked if they had milk for tea, his face screwed up in confusion. Murphy had smirked. He couldn't get over how domesticated she'd become. When he'd known her, she rarely cooked if ever, and tea was something she picked up in a shop on her way to a work. He could count on one hand the meals she'd made, and they weren't exactly something you'd find in a regular restaurant. Now, she'd been adamant that they stop at her flat so she could retrieve teabags, milk and sugar because she couldn't go without.

As they walked, Branna led the way, idly chatting to Connor about what else they could do to find Fitzpatrick. He watched her confident steps; her hair had since slipped out of the tight knot she'd done it up in and was hanging loosely near her neck with most of the tendrils still strung up in the elastic. Her hands were making gestures, as she got more frustrated with each one of Connor's hair brained ideas.

His mind wandered back to the second kiss they'd shared since the start of the day. He remembered seeing the pain fill Branna's face as she apologized for what she'd done. Her lips against his, her hands roaming his body and his hers, and when her knee had grazed his thigh, well he thought he might die right where he stood. It was almost electric,; the pull he felt when he looked at her, like a magnet. He didn't know if he wanted to feel that way still. The sharp ache of her actions still sat heavy in his heart, regardless of the apologies. Did he still love her? Or was this attraction spurred on by the leftover tension between them? He didn't know.

Rubbing his neck, he saw that the door to her building was only a few feet more. Soon, once they'd retrieved Branna's precious supplies, they could return to his and Connor's apartment and they could all get some well-needed rest. How Murphy planned to sleep with Branna in the next room was a mystery to him, but he prayed that the Lord would work his magic.

* * * *

Back at Connor and Murphy's apartment, Branna felt a heaving sense of relief. Their chase had led them nowhere, and after hours of walking the downtown of South Boston, all her legs wanted to do was stop moving. As she boiled water in a pot on the stove, because she'd found that the boys didn't think much of cookware these days, she watched Murphy out of the corner of her eye.

He had kissed her. Again. This time with softness that made her chest throb. It hadn't been the passionate coupling they'd shared earlier, which Branna was secretly attributing both their tempers to. This kiss, it had been, well just like it always had been, tender and loving with what she could only describe as simple Murphy.

He was leaning back on the couch in the living area, his feet propped up on the coffee table next to a can of beer and his head leaned back on the cushions. His eyes were closed. She could hear Connor running the water for the shower in the next room; he'd always been a bit of a priss. Grabbing three plastic cups from the open shelf, she placed the tea bags and put what she deemed an appropriate amount of sugar in each one. The water was rolling to a boil. She turned off the burner and carefully poured the steaming hot liquid into each cup.

Once the tea was finished, she carried hers and the one she'd made for Murphy over to him.

"Here, drink this… ye should have something non-alcoholic. Ye'll sleep better. I can promise ye that." She said quietly, setting the cup down beside the open can of beer.

Murphy opened one eye in a squint as she spoke. He grunted slightly and leaned forward picking up the cup. She watched him flinch slightly when the heat of the tea in the plastic cup touched his hand, but he never complained. Instead, he took a small sip and looked up at her.

"Ye happy now?"

"About what?" she replied curiously, curling her legs underneath her as she sat down on the end of the couch opposite the Irishman. Leaning forward, Murphy cradled the cup between his palms resting his elbows on his knees.

"Are ye happy. Just what the word means. Happy. Back when-" she watched him struggle with the words.

"When we were together, ye seemed content enough, but sometimes, I felt like there was always something holdin' ye back. I knew ye had yer issues, ye had yer secrets and I was ok with 'em. Feck, I've more of me own to worry about these days. I was only wonderin' if the time ye spent out there in the world, the time ye had after me, made ye happy." He swirled the cup and chugged down the last of the tea. Plucking a cigarette out of the open pack on the table, he stood up and walked out of the room. Branna could only watch in confusion.

* * * *

Opening the door to the bathroom, Connor knew the coast would be clear. He'd overheard Murphy's question and Branna's obvious lack of an answer. He listened to the sound of Murphy's quiet breathing in the room to the right. The bathroom connected to the small bedroom. An ensuite, the ad in the paper had said. Ensuite his arse, Connor scoffed, the bathroom was more like a teeny cupboard, a drain in the floor let the water from the shower drain out, and the shower itself was simply a shower head attached to the wall. European, the ad said. Connor listened closely for the sound of movement in the shared bedroom. Once he was positive it was only Murphy he heard, he ventured out into the living room.

Branna was leaning back on the sofa, her eyes closed as she dragged on a cigarette. Blue clouds were circling her head. He leaned down and picked up a smoke for himself, lighting it as he sat in the chair opposite the couch. She opened her eyes and levelled him with a gaze.

"'Lo there." Connor said. She muttered a reply as she yawned, leaning back to close her eyes once more.

He could see the effects of the last couple of days in her face. Her eyes were darker, more tired. He watched her subtly stretch her shoulder. He'd wondered how that was coming along. She didn't seem to favour it, or try and protect it. She just continued with normal life. That had always been one of the qualities he'd assumed drew Murphy to her. She pressed on, didn't matter the circumstance. She went with it. He had a feeling it had also been her temper. She always had been a hot head, more so than Murphy at times. Her eyes also seemed to have the same 'Don't test me' look to them.

It had pained him to learn she'd been involved with the Republic. In the time he'd come to know her, Connor had begun to see her as a little sister. She'd smile at his brother, and the light would come to life in Murphy. Connor had been so glad that finally, his brother could have some peace. When he learned of her role with the R.I.R.A, after she'd already up and gone, he wanted so bad to be angry with her. To scold her and tell her that she was being an idiot. He wanted to, as much as he could, protect her. She'd become family; he knew Murphy had given her Gram's ring. She might as well have been blood. When he learned of what she'd done, of what Murphy had seen, he wasn't angry. He was terrified.

He could hear Murphy quietly sobbing in the next room. He'd come home the week before bloodied and spitting piss and vinegar. He hadn't said a word as Murphy had stormed into the cottage, threw his boots into the corner and stalked into his room. He hadn't said a word when Murphy mentioned casually that Branna was gone a few days later. But to hear his twin silently grieving over the woman, now he had something to say about it.

He knocked on the door to Murph's room. He heard a cough, and the door opened. His brother looked like hell. His eyes were red, his face flush and his whole body seemed sprung tighter than a cog in a clock. Without so much as a greeting, Murphy turned back into the room, choosing to crawl back under the covers.

"Ye can't stay in here ye know." Connor said gently.

"Oh fuck off, I'm just not feelin' well. I might have the grippe or somethin'. Just leave me be, I'll be fine." Murphy said, coughing to emphasize a point. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a smoke, lighting it as he rolled over to look him in the face. Connor was getting tired of this.

"No. Ye ain't got a cold, or even a touch of the sniffles. Ye be actin' like a woman; cryin' in her bed, eating her ice cream and wailing at God for the injustice done to her by some man."

"I'm not feeling well!" Murphy raised his voice.

"AYE, cause ye had yer heart broken. I'm sorry Murphy, I am. Ye know she was as good as a sister to me as well. Yer allowed to be sad, but for chrissakes, don't lay around in bed all day. What good will it do? Nothing." Connor said adamantly.

Murphy's face hardened. He pushed back the duvet covers, flicking his cigarette out the open window, and pushed his way past him out the bedroom door. He didn't come back for almost three weeks.

"I know that ye never meant to cause me brother harm lass." Connor said quietly.

Branna's head snapped forward. Her eyes were once again, levelled at him.

"Now, now. Don't be gettin' fussy on me. I'm trying to say that I'm not mad at ye. I can understand why ye left. I don't think it was right, not one second of it, but I understand. Ye were like a sister to me Branna. Ye have no idea how worried Da and I were when we saw Murphy come home covered in blood. He wouldn't talk to us fer days. He disappeared for weeks!" he lectured.

"Ye plan on tellin' me anything that I didn't know?" Branna said flippantly. "I don't have the energy to talk anymore Connor. I know ye mean well, but right now, I just want to find Colin and kill the bastard. I don't have the mental capacity to think about anything past that." She leaned forward to ash the cigarette. He mirrored her gesture.

"With what I've witnessed in the last 48 hours? Ye may not have the energy but I want ye to know that as much as I care about ye, if ye ever do something as stupid as ye did back then, the next time ye'll have not only Murphys gun, but mine staring back at ye. Blood comes first."

He stood and retrieved a pillow and light blanket from the far corner. Tossing them on the couch, he nodded to them. He looked at her quickly; she was stiff as a board. Her eyes had taken on a wary edge. She reached for the blanket and lay down. Connor turned his back and headed into the single bedroom.

Murphy was lying awake on the single mattress closest to the window.

"I s'pose ye heard me out there?" Connor said nonchalantly.

Murphy just nodded, a weak smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

"I love ye brother," he said, rolling over on his side.

Connor smiled as he turned out the light and settled in for the night.