Title: Kiss the Pony

Fandom: Boondock Saints

Pairings: Murphy/Connor

Rating: R

Warnings: Violence, swearing, angst, twincest, incest, kid!fic

Summary: During one of their hits the McManus brothers discover a three old girl hiding under a bed. After learning that the girl is on a hit list, an order from the very man they had just murdered, they take the girl with them. But they soon discover that someone else wants this girl dead and they are far more dangerous than the McManus brothers could've possibly imagined. Along the way the very fabric of their relationship is tested and the brothers discover something that had been lurking at edge of their vision for years.

AN: Sorry it has taken me so long to post…RL and other stories have been absorbing all my attention. I'll try to post the next chapter a bit sooner than I did this one, I promise.

Sighing Murphy ran a hand down his face, in his other hand was a small paper cup of coffee. Leaning back in his chair he looked over at Connor who looked equally frustrated at their inability to get any clues as who the head boss of the organization, that wanted Mary dead, was.

Over the years they had learned there was always someone bigger, someone more important, a marionette being controlled by a puppet master who is really just a puppet in themselves. It was a conundrum that continued on and on until it made your head spin.

The guy they had whacked when they found Mary was as high ranking as they came. He was the last person that was seen before the darkness engulfed you and the true master came out and struck you down before you had a chance to steal a simple glance around. They had killed a very powerful guy and the fact that no one was coming after them, to be honest, terrified Murphy much more than it did to Connor. In reality they shouldn't of had even made it out of the house let alone be alive in their home days after the hit. But they were and each day they stayed alive drove home the point that whoever they were really dealing with was one scary ass mother fucker.

"We're not getting anywhere with all this second hand shit." Connor thrust the papers that they had stolen, from the dead guys' office, across the table and scrubbed his hands down his face. It looked as if he was trying to wipe away the years, trying to wipe away the stress and the cracks in their souls that came more and more evident after every life they snuffed out.

Instead of agreeing with him Murphy gave Connor a pointed look, reprimanding him silently for his bad langue around Mary. Who was sitting on the Murphy's bed; the crayons that they had bought for her were laid out on the bed, arranged neatly in alphabetical order.

Huffing a small "sorry" Connor glanced over at Mary who was acting like she wasn't listening to them. Murphy knew different though, she was always listening; even if she was asleep she was listening. He had found that out the other day when he and Connor had a conversation about whether or not Mary would like a backyard to play in. When she had said, in a supposed dead sleep, that she wanted enough room for the pony she wanted for her next birthday. It had scared the crap out of Connor and surprised Murphy, who knew that little kids were such good listeners. Connor and he had never that good at listening when they were young; sure they listened after their mother had given them a few good whacks to the side of the head. But never had they still been listening in on people's conversation after they were asleep; they had hard enough time paying attention when they were awake.

"We can't get any fu…" Connor stopped himself from cussing just barely. Stealing a glance at Mary, who was still pretending to ignore them, he continued. "I mean we can't get any good intel off these papers. They're useless. They planted were there to lead the cops away from what was really going on, just in case the place got raided. These guys are good, no better than good they're like the fucking Mafia wizarding geniuses."

"Connor" Murphy said impatiently and jerked his head towards Mary who was still sitting on the bed coloring.

"Sorry" Connor mumbled again before burying his head in his hands. "It's just that we're going to need a lot better information then this if we're going to get these guys before they get us…" Connor paused his eyes straying over to the bed again "…or worse. Mary."

"I don't know we're just…" Murphy's consolation of Connor was interrupted by Mary setting her drawing down the table.

"Look what I drew" She announced proudly beaming back and forth between Connor and Murphy. Her drawing covered up the sheet that had her name written in red ink.

"That's nice sweetie…but how about you" Connor started only to get cut off by Mary's explanation of the picture.

"This is me" she said pointing to a small girl that was drawn in pink crayon.

"That's…" Connor began but he was once again cut off by Mary who just plowed on with her explanation

"And this is daddy" she said pointing to a man drawn in green crayon, a pool of green was drawn next to his head. "This is mommy" her tiny finger pointed to a woman drawn in purple. Her voice momentarily dropped and her finger lingered over the purple figure, a pool of purple was next to her chest. But she collected herself quickly; she kept on going like the fact that her parents were dead didn't bother her. "And is the bad man." The man Mary pointed to was drawn in red; there was also a pool of red off to the side of him, in the same exact spot that Connor and Murphy had shot him.

"He's dead" Mary whispered her voice grave and sullen as she looked at Connor then over at Murphy "you guys saved me."

Murphy couldn't tear his eyes away from Mary, her small frame sagged with a sadness that should never touch a three year old. The way Mary was feeling was something no child should ever go through. It tore at Murphy's chest to know that there was nothing he could to stop Mary's pain. Out of the corner of his eye Murphy could see Connor reach over and point to two black figures that were next to the bad guy drawn in red.

"Who are these guys?" Connor asked softly, his hand shook a bit as he touched the black figures. His face was stone; shut off and locked down, but it couldn't fool Murphy he knew what his brother was feeling. He knew that when Connor looked his best, that when he was calm and collected that he was really on the edge of falling apart.

"They're the really bad guys." Mary whispered her eyes going round like saucers as she stared at the figures. Neither one of them had pools of liquid next to them. "When they came to our house Daddy made me hide. But I heard them. I heard them talking when I was not supposed to."

Murphy looked over at Connor who was staring intently at the two black figures. He was thinking the same thing Murphy was thinking. The two figures that Mary had drawn in black crayon were the head honchos. They were the people who held all the strings off all the puppets. They pulled and tugged playing everyone as they stayed hidden deep within the shadows. And Mary knew who they were and worse yet they knew who Mary was.

This was bad, this was very very bad. Murphy could feel a small stab of panic start to work its way through him. Mary's dad had been in deep with the local Mafia, and not just the local mafia but with the guys that controlled it all. Mary's dad was engaged with some of the deadliest people in the United States not to mention the city of Boston. And these men knew exactly who Mary was, what she looked like, and who she was with.

They knew who she was with, and they doubt knew where he and Connor lived. His head started to swim over the fact that it had been days since they had first taken Mary into their home and they were still alive. There was no way in hell these men would just let Mary go, there was no way they were going to let her live. She knows who they are, she's seen them with her dad, she's seen them murder her dad.

Mary looked up at Murphy as she could read what was going on inside his head. "Daddy always told me to never look at them. I wasn't supposed to know what their faces looked like."

"But you do?" Connor whispered his eyes kept flickering back to Murphy's; the same train of thought was plowing through Murphy's head that was surging around inside Connor's.

"Mmm hmm" Nodding Mary picked up the paper. Studying it for a second she crumbled it up and shoved it into her mouth. "There must be no evidence left to tie back to me." She said around a mouthful of paper, her tone was dark, mimicking someone she heard speak those words. "We must erase all ties."

Murphy felt sick to his stomach as he watched Mary swallow the paper, he had a vague notion of telling her not to eat paper because the ink could be toxic. The little three year old girl that stood before him clad in a pink dress and her hair pulled back in a ponytail knew she was not supposed to be alive. The little girl whose only thoughts should be of toys and drawing and loving her parents knew that there was people that wanted her dead and that those same people had killed her parents.