This was heavily (entirely) inspired by What Sarah Said, a song by Death Cab for Cutie. I highly suggest listening to the song while reading this. It's a deeper look into what the twins went through while Sarah was fighting her lung cancer.

Murphy paced the lobby in the hospital. It had been hours, and still there was no word. Connor was in one of the stiff chairs, unmoving except his shoulders as he took deep breaths. Murphy itched to take a cigarette. His fingers twitched, wishing for the flick of a lighter, the feel of the cigarette paper. He licked his lips and made his way to the window, looking down at the big city.

They were in Seattle. It was as far from Boston as they could be. They didn't really live in Seattle, but it was the closest hospital. So here they were, waiting. It was nearly three in the morning and down there were hundreds of people going about their lives without any remorse. They didn't know what was happening, nor did they care. Murphy hated them for it. He wanted to be there, to not have a care, to not be trapped in this hospital.

"You know what I realized?" Connor said, coming up next to his twin.

"What?" Murphy asked, leaning against the cold glass.

"That every plan we've ever made, every moment in our lives, was all a tiny prayer to Father Time," Connor said. "All we've been doin' is askin' for a bit more time."

"Do ya think he stopped listenin'?" Murphy asked.

"I think we ran outta time," Connor replied.

Murphy couldn't say anything to counter that. Maybe Connor was right. Maybe they did run out of time. All they've been doing was waiting (hoping, praying) that something would work. Maybe the therapy was working, or the radiation, or anything.

"Romeo should be on his way," Connor said. "I… I let him know when she moved."

Murphy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He turned around and looked over the hospital lobby. He should be used to it by now. He and Connor have been living at the hospital for almost three months now. They knew all the staff members by name, knew the closest restaurants, and knew which lobby chairs were the most comfortable.

But they weren't in their normal lobby anymore.

Last night, the cancer fought back and she had to be rushed to the ICU. There were doctors and nurses running and screaming, shouting out facts and figures and trying to fix her.

Connor and Murphy hadn't left the ICU since then.

"I hate it here," Murphy said, walking the familiar steps to her room. "It smells like piss and that stupid fuckin' cleaner."

"I hate it here too," Connor put his hand on Murphy's shoulder. "It's too sterile."

They walked to her room. They weren't allowed in, the cancer was still fighting hard and the doctors were trying their best to keep her alive; to keep her breathing. Murphy reached out and touched the window. It was frigid.

"It's just…" Murphy started. He choked on tears and tried again. "It's not fair, Conn. She can't breathe any more. She… she just can't. Her little lungs can't do it. And what are we doin'? Just breathin', again and again. Why do we have so many breaths to take while hers are numbered? It's not fuckin' fair!"

Connor didn't say anything, and Murphy was grateful for that. He grabbed his twin's arm and stared at the tiny monitor in her room. Murphy reasoned with himself, that as long as he stared at the tiny LCD screen, as long as he watched the little green line blip with each beat of her heart, then he could convince himself that everything was going to be fine.

He could convince himself that his little sister wasn't dying in there.

Murphy's hand tightened on Connor's arm. They were all they had right now. Sure, Romeo was around and he felt her sickness just as acutely as they did. Yes, the Boston police force sent their condolences and their love. They just didn't know. Not like the twins knew. They had raised this woman. They grew up with her. They had celebrated her triumphs and wallowed in her failures. They saved each other's lives and protected each other. They grieved their friends and father together. For years, it has always been the three of them against the world. Murphy wasn't sure if they could be just two. He didn't want to go from MacManus siblings to the MacManus twins, the MacManus brothers. He didn't want to lose her.

"She's gotta fight it," Connor said, his voice tight. "She… she can do it. If anyone could fight it, it's her."

Murphy nodded. He just needed to believe, to have faith. He had watched his little sister fight drunken men all night long. He had watched her shoot evil men without batting an eyelash. He had been on the receiving end of her brutality, when he and Connor pushed too far.

She was their little sister, but Murphy didn't fool himself into believing she was weak.

He stared at the monitor and felt his heart drop to his knees.

"Fuck, Conn," Murphy breathed out. "Her heartbeat."

Connor pushed himself next to the window while Murphy tried to call some feeling in his hollow chest. The tiny heartbeat he'd been watching, the little green blip, was falling. If it fell much further, she wouldn't have a heartbeat.

"Murph," Connor gasped, grabbing his twin tight. "She… she's going."

Soon enough, an alarm went off and her doctor rushed in, followed by four nurses. Murphy knew he needed to leave. Somewhere in his foggy mind, he knew that he couldn't be in the way for this, that he and Connor needed to go back into that godforsaken lobby and wait it out, but he couldn't move. His muscles were frozen in front of the window, staring at the wispy body of his baby sister as her lungs failed her.

His brother said something, but Murphy didn't register it. He simply let Connor's warm hand lead him back to the lobby. Each step felt like a mile and shook his entire body. He felt that walking away was a sign of giving up. Murphy pushed down every instinct telling him to turn and hold her hand. He needed to wait.

Connor pushed him into a chair and stuffed a year-old magazine in his hands.

"Read," Connor ordered. "I'll get you somethin' ta drink."

And so he left Murphy completely alone. He threw the magazine back on the table and watched as Connor turned the corner to the vending machines. Murphy lied about why he hated it here. Yeah, it smelt like piss and that 409 cleaner, and yeah it was too sterile, but those weren't the real reasons he hated it here.

The hospital lobbies were the places where only goodbyes were said; the only thing that Murphy never wanted to say to his sister. He hated goodbyes. He hated the finality of it. He had said goodbye to so many loved ones. Rocco, Greenly, Da…

Murphy didn't want to say goodbye to his little sister too.

Connor came back minutes later, empty-handed and face stained with tears. He sat down next to his brother.

"Nothing good," Connor's voice was thick as he lied.

"Re – remember that time back in Ireland," Murphy started, "when we realized that the sheep loved her singin'?" Murphy let out a watery chuckle. "Remember how she would sing and those fuckin' sheep followed her everywhere?"

"And Da didn't believe us," Connor smiled weakly, "so we dragged him out in the pourin' rain to prove it."

Murphy laughed again. "And then we all had pneumonia that week."

"No we didn't," Connor turned to face Murphy. "That's when we had the flu. Da got pneumonia when he was tryin' to prove that he could take care of the sheep on his own in the middle o' winter."

"Was it?" Murphy scratched his head. "That's funny. I don't… I don't remember that."

"And then a week later, we all went out drinking and she went home with that Seamus bloke and had to walk home in three feet of snow."

"I thought that was when she was still in school, and the teachers almost had her expelled for it."

Murphy stared at Connor in shock. Could they really not remember those moments? Here they were, waiting for news on whether their sister was alive or not, and they were arguing about memories. It wasn't fair, Murphy realized with bitterness. All those memories were stored away, but they weren't all stored properly. Their damn minds just couldn't remember things perfectly.

"I don't remember anymore," Connor slouched in his seat. "I can't remember what we did in Ireland. Fuck, I can barely remember what we did before Poppa Joe."

"Me neither," Murphy said. He glanced over at Connor. "What do you remember then?"

"I remember her hair," Connor said, closing his eyes and leaning back. "I remember how it crackled when she was angry. I remember that it was impossible, with four shades of brown and curls that just… were everywhere."

"I remember her eyes," Murphy said, closing his own eyes and letting the image float before him. "I remember that Ma said they were Da's eyes, that they looked like chocolate and they were so damn big."

"I remember when she told us she got laid," Connor said.

Murphy cracked a smile. "I remember all those fuckin' bar fights."

"I remember her singin'."

"I remember her shoutin' at us whenever we did somethin' stupid."

"Even if we don't remember everything, I wouldn't trade it for anythin' else."

Murphy nodded in agreement and opened his eyes. Despite it being so late (the time was pushing to 4 AM) there were people pacing the room. Sickness never did wait for a convenient time. He wanted to know what they were waiting for. Did they have a child fighting cancer? Or a loved one in a coma? Perhaps a drunken father who just escaped a car accident. What were they waiting for? Who were they praying for?

They didn't pay any mind to Murphy, so he let those thoughts fade away. Instead, he focused on his own prayers. Connor was right; every plan was a tiny prayer for more time. The plan to kill the Russians, the plan to get Yakavetta Junior, the plan to escape Boston, they were all plans to have more time.

Romeo walked in, strangely solemn as he sat next to the twins.

"How's she holding up?" he asked.

"They thought she was gonna make it," Murphy said.

"Until about ten minutes ago," Connor snapped. "The cancer is gettin' worse. The doc just went in."

"No news then?"

"Nothin'."

"She'll be fine," Romeo assured the brothers. "I know she will. She'll tough if out. She made it through prison for Christ's sake. She's got this."

A click of heels on the floor and everyone in the room looked up at the nurse. She was motherly, with dark hair and bright eyes, a clipboard in hand. Romeo patted Murphy and Connor's knees and leaned back.

"Could the MacManus brothers please come with me?" she said, scanning the room.

The twins stood up and walked to the nurse in unison. She put on her best face and gripped the clipboard tighter.

"She's asking for you," the nurse simply said.

Murphy's heart stopped and he reached for Connor.

"She's awake?" Connor asked, a shaking hand grasping Murphy's.

"Just for a bit," the nurse said. "You two go on ahead, but I'm afraid you-" she turned to Romeo "-will have to wait here. Family visitors only."

"That's fine," Romeo said. "I understand. You boys go, I'll call Eunice."

Murphy felt a rush of gratitude towards him. He and Connor ran through the hospital, ignoring the glares and heated whispers. Their sister was awake, she was asking for them. That could only mean one thing.

It meant she was alive. It meant she was going to make it.

Right?

She had to.

The twins burst through the door and saw their sister on the bed, IV still attached to her elbow and oxygen tank hissing in the corner. They sat down at her bedside and came as close as they could, looking at her feeble body.

"Hey there, leprechaun," Connor reached out and took her hand in his. "You look good."

"Great, even," Murphy added. "Almost healthy enough to come home."

She smiled at them and shook her head.

"Wh – what are you doin'?" Murphy looked down at her with worry. "Why are you shakin' yer head?"

With great effort, she began to speak, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not makin' it," she wheezed. "The doc said the treatment isn't workin'. He said I'm only gettin' worse. It was either… die like this. Or wait a few days and die then."

"Ya can't talk like that!" Murphy exclaimed, his voice rising to a shout. "Ya can't just die on us!"

"Murphy, shut up!" Connor hissed. "Yer gonna get us kicked out."

"Boys, please," she begged them between coughs. "If I'm gonna go. I wanna go on my terms, when I'm ready."

"And what makes ya think that when yer ready is when we're ready?" Murphy demanded. "Because let me tell you, it's fuckin' not time fer you ta go!"

"Murphy!" Connor scolded, grabbing Murphy's arm.

"No!" Murphy pulled his arm free. "I don't wanna sit here and watch my – watch our little sister just leave! I don't want her to go!" he turned to face his sister, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. "You hear me, leprechaun? You can't go. Not now and certainly not like this! After everythin'? You really think you can just let this fuckin' cancer take you away?"

"Murphy!" Connor pulled on Murphy again.

"Because I can't!" Murphy stood up, pulling free once more. "I can't watch you just sit here and give up! I can't stand it! Three months we've been prayin' for a miracle. Seein' ya like this, losin' yer gorgeous hair and bein' sick all the time with all these tubes and wires and shit, seein' ya so helpless made me lose my mind! But I though it would be worth it because you were gonna be okay. I thought that, in the end, it would be worth it. All this money and time and all the tears were gonna be okay because we'd still have you."

"It's my time, Murph," she said gently. "Let me go."

Murphy fell down into his chair. He let Connor take his arm and push up next to him. He let everything wash over him as the tears kept falling. He stared at his hands; they were shaking. He didn't know what to do with himself. He's felt adrenaline rushes before, he's felt fear in his very gut, but this was different. This was Murphy unveiled, Murphy overexposed. He felt naked, no barriers between what he felt and what he showed.

"What are we gonna do without you?" he finally asked.

"Move on," she shrugged. "Stay hidden. Live normally."

"How can we go on without you?" Connor asked.

"You must," she reached forward and took both their hands in hers. "Promise me you'll be safe. Go get a borin' job and stay hidden and find a couple of broads and make a life. Can ya do that fer me?"

"Anything for you, leprechaun," Murphy said, lifting his head.

"Remember what I told you," she gasped for breath, "when they first diagnosed me?"

"Yeah, yeah, we remember."

"Wh – what did I say?"

She was struggling for breath now. Murphy knew that they had seconds before she left for good.

"You said that 'love is watching someone die'."

"So…" she smiled at them both. "Who's gonna watch you die?"

Feebly, she squeezed their hands one final time. Her eyes slid shut and her heart monitor line flattened. More tears fell down Murphy's face as a sob ripped through his throat. Connor, sobbing next to him, pulled him close. They held each other tight, Murphy burying his face into his brother's shoulder, letting all the emotions, all that broken bitterness, sweep over him.

The nurse gently led them from the room, but Murphy didn't remember moving. Still holding onto his twin, his singular point of sanity, they came back into the wretched lobby. Romeo came up to them, about to speak, but stopped when he caught sight of their faces.

"She… didn't make it?" he guessed.

Connor shook his head and Romeo hiccupped.

"Wh – What did she say?" Romeo asked, a tiny sob breaking through.

Murphy thought for a moment. She said a lot of things, really. There were so many things she said in her life, so many moments she made by her words. How could anyone ever narrow it down to one thing that she said?

"Love is watching someone die."

That's what Sarah said.

I have been asked if I'm planning on writing more, and I do have somewhat of an announcement.

I have a story about Sarah and the twins that takes place during the movies, both of them, and goes more in depth between the first and second movies. It's not quite finished yet, I've got a few more things to work out, but that will come eventually.

I won't be posting it on addition to this story, it will be it's own story, and hopefully will be published by Christmas. So keep a look out, and let me know if you'd be willing to read more about Sarah.