The three shall spread their blackened wings…
folder
1 through F › Boondock Saints
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
4,805
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
1 through F › Boondock Saints
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
4,805
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Boondock Saints, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I know, Murph. I killed her.
A/N: I don't own them (though I wish I did) they belong to Troy Duffy...Yadda yadda yadda...
Warnings: If you are on this site, you know what to expect but if you don't read and find out..hah!!
!!
Chapter POV: Conner
Deich Á Trì
. Dawn was rising; thin rays of light filtering up over the darkened roadways. The light was coming for him, it always was. Day in and day out, sunrise to sunset, it was always coming. Conner sat in the sliver of light that made it’s way between the closed curtains. It wasn’t unusual for him to be up before Murphy, but after watching in silence as Murphy endured all of the girl’s not so girly blows last night he needed time to think.
. That’s what I did to him, thought Conner a small cloud of cigarette smoke escaped his lips, Murphy did the same thing for me when I lost Jessie. He let me take all of my pain out on his body. He was drawn into the past through the blood and death, into memory. Where they had been when Jessie died.
. It was a little Irish pub full of drunks in the middle of the night. The MacManus brothers weren’t planning on going home that night, they rarely ever did after killing a few men. He and Murphy just bellied up to the bar and drank until the realization of what they had done melted away in the feeling of alcohol induced righteous fury. They stumbled up to their apartment as the rays of dawn burned through their alcohol-blurred eyesight. All that Conner wanted to do was sleep, but that thought was quickly banished when they found their lock completely busted and their door ajar.
. With guns drawn, they sobered up quickly and quietly made their way into the room. There couch was riddled with bullet holes, their refrigerator had been inverted and their television had been kicked in, screen shattered with its glass riddling the floor. They cautiously made their way to the bathroom. That’s where they found Jessie; or at least her naked beaten corpse. She was barely recognizable beneath all of the bruises and cuts that covered her face and body. She had been bleeding from a stab wound in her lower abdomen and there were rivulets of blood that had dried on her l
. “She’s dead, Conn,” Murphy’s voice had penetrated the haze that engulfed his mind.
. Looking at his brother’s sympathetic eyes, Conner could only feel numb as he vacantly replied, “I know, Murph. I killed her. I killed Jessie.”
. He had broken down then and retreated into a shell. I killed her, Conner reminded himself over and over again, I killed her by letting them do what they did to her. Murphy had tried to reach him then, but Conner was lost to the world. It killed Murphy to watch him that way, Conner knew it, but there was nothing that he or Murphy could do to make it any better. It wasn’t until a few days later, while hiding out at another of their friend’s apartments, that the stress and guilt let Murphy get to him.
. “Conner, Jessie’s dead and it’s not your fault,” Murphy had pleaded.
. “Yes it is, Murph,” replied Conner, “it is my fault.”
. It had gotten Murphy so mad to know that his brother had given up, that it forced him to retaliate with force.
. With a backhand across Conner’s face, Murphy yelled, “Fucking hell, Conn, it is not your fault.”
. That had removed Conner from his sorrow, but it had also placed him within the bottomless anger of a vengeful angel, “It fucking is my fault, Murphy. Don’t even fucking tell me that it wasn’t.”
. He had returned Murphy’s backhand with swift blows. Conner had made Murphy bleed that night, in many was and more that he ever had when they had fought as kids or when he had first stolen his brother’s virginiBut But Murphy took all of it silently and patiently; never begging for Conner to slow down or stop when he drove harder and harder into the creamy flesh of Murphy’s tight passage, even when Conner’s brutality caused streams of blood to run down his legs.
. You love me that much, Murph, Conner thought, trying to banish the memory to the furthest reaches of his mind, you loved me enough then and now to let me do that to you.
. He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, before taking another drag of his cigarette as he glanced towards his brother’s sleeping form. Conner hadn’t been able to sleep much after he watched Murphy sit back down in that torture contraption called the comfy chair. Even bruised and hurt, Murphy wouldn’t ask anything of anyone; he wouldn’t even wake Conner to share a bed.
. What happened, Conner asked himself, I used to be the strong one. I was the one to not complain about injury, the one who would hold him, not the other way around. But a lot had changed since they died, especially when they found her dead. He knew it, even if he really didn’t wish to admit it to himself. He was no longer the strong one; Murphy was. Their roles had been switched and Conner couldn’t really do much except accept the fact that things between them weren’t exactly the same as they used to be.
. His cigarette had burned down almost to extinction when he got up out of the chair. He glanced at the clock; it read 5:55 am. I might as well get breakfast, thought Conner as he put out the cigarette, she’ll probably be hungry since she didn’t eat last night. Conner made his way to Murphy’s prone body and placed a light kiss on his lips, waking his twin up.
. As Murphy’s sleepy and bruise-swollen eyes tried to open Conner said, “I’m going to get breakfast. Go sleep in my bed, Murph.”
. Murphy simply nodded and dragged himself to Conner’s vacant bed.
. Once settled, Conner continued, “There are clothes for the girl in the blue plastic bag.”
. “Faith,” his brother stated roughly, “her name’s Faith.”
. “Alright, Faith’s clothes are in the bag,” replied Conner, “I’ll be back soon”
. Murphy grunted in response as Conner made his way across the room to grab the keys for the car.
. On his way back towards the door, he stopped to look at Faith’s sleeping form.
. She looks so innocent, thought Conner as he gently pulled her blanket higher, like an angel, like my Jessie. He waited for the usual wave of sorrow to hit him, but there was none.
. Conner made his way over to the door, perplexed. That was the first time since she died, he thought closing the door quietly behind him, there was always a wave of pain, but this time there was none. Burying his thoughts, Conner placed a pair of sunglasses on as he made his way to the car, in the early morning sun.
. Back in the room, Murphy closed his eyes after witnessing a tender glimpse of the brother that he’d once thought lost forever. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, not daring to hope, Conner was finally getting over Jessie’s death.
A/N: OMG... thank you to everyone who reviewed. It's because of you guys that I've been writing like a maniac lately! I mean seriously, 3 chapters in 2 days!!! I am on a Boondock Smut Roll!!! Thanks especially to my roomate who threatens death... These last chapters are for you!!! :0)
Warnings: If you are on this site, you know what to expect but if you don't read and find out..hah!!
!!
Chapter POV: Conner
. Dawn was rising; thin rays of light filtering up over the darkened roadways. The light was coming for him, it always was. Day in and day out, sunrise to sunset, it was always coming. Conner sat in the sliver of light that made it’s way between the closed curtains. It wasn’t unusual for him to be up before Murphy, but after watching in silence as Murphy endured all of the girl’s not so girly blows last night he needed time to think.
. That’s what I did to him, thought Conner a small cloud of cigarette smoke escaped his lips, Murphy did the same thing for me when I lost Jessie. He let me take all of my pain out on his body. He was drawn into the past through the blood and death, into memory. Where they had been when Jessie died.
. It was a little Irish pub full of drunks in the middle of the night. The MacManus brothers weren’t planning on going home that night, they rarely ever did after killing a few men. He and Murphy just bellied up to the bar and drank until the realization of what they had done melted away in the feeling of alcohol induced righteous fury. They stumbled up to their apartment as the rays of dawn burned through their alcohol-blurred eyesight. All that Conner wanted to do was sleep, but that thought was quickly banished when they found their lock completely busted and their door ajar.
. With guns drawn, they sobered up quickly and quietly made their way into the room. There couch was riddled with bullet holes, their refrigerator had been inverted and their television had been kicked in, screen shattered with its glass riddling the floor. They cautiously made their way to the bathroom. That’s where they found Jessie; or at least her naked beaten corpse. She was barely recognizable beneath all of the bruises and cuts that covered her face and body. She had been bleeding from a stab wound in her lower abdomen and there were rivulets of blood that had dried on her l
. “She’s dead, Conn,” Murphy’s voice had penetrated the haze that engulfed his mind.
. Looking at his brother’s sympathetic eyes, Conner could only feel numb as he vacantly replied, “I know, Murph. I killed her. I killed Jessie.”
. He had broken down then and retreated into a shell. I killed her, Conner reminded himself over and over again, I killed her by letting them do what they did to her. Murphy had tried to reach him then, but Conner was lost to the world. It killed Murphy to watch him that way, Conner knew it, but there was nothing that he or Murphy could do to make it any better. It wasn’t until a few days later, while hiding out at another of their friend’s apartments, that the stress and guilt let Murphy get to him.
. “Conner, Jessie’s dead and it’s not your fault,” Murphy had pleaded.
. “Yes it is, Murph,” replied Conner, “it is my fault.”
. It had gotten Murphy so mad to know that his brother had given up, that it forced him to retaliate with force.
. With a backhand across Conner’s face, Murphy yelled, “Fucking hell, Conn, it is not your fault.”
. That had removed Conner from his sorrow, but it had also placed him within the bottomless anger of a vengeful angel, “It fucking is my fault, Murphy. Don’t even fucking tell me that it wasn’t.”
. He had returned Murphy’s backhand with swift blows. Conner had made Murphy bleed that night, in many was and more that he ever had when they had fought as kids or when he had first stolen his brother’s virginiBut But Murphy took all of it silently and patiently; never begging for Conner to slow down or stop when he drove harder and harder into the creamy flesh of Murphy’s tight passage, even when Conner’s brutality caused streams of blood to run down his legs.
. You love me that much, Murph, Conner thought, trying to banish the memory to the furthest reaches of his mind, you loved me enough then and now to let me do that to you.
. He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, before taking another drag of his cigarette as he glanced towards his brother’s sleeping form. Conner hadn’t been able to sleep much after he watched Murphy sit back down in that torture contraption called the comfy chair. Even bruised and hurt, Murphy wouldn’t ask anything of anyone; he wouldn’t even wake Conner to share a bed.
. What happened, Conner asked himself, I used to be the strong one. I was the one to not complain about injury, the one who would hold him, not the other way around. But a lot had changed since they died, especially when they found her dead. He knew it, even if he really didn’t wish to admit it to himself. He was no longer the strong one; Murphy was. Their roles had been switched and Conner couldn’t really do much except accept the fact that things between them weren’t exactly the same as they used to be.
. His cigarette had burned down almost to extinction when he got up out of the chair. He glanced at the clock; it read 5:55 am. I might as well get breakfast, thought Conner as he put out the cigarette, she’ll probably be hungry since she didn’t eat last night. Conner made his way to Murphy’s prone body and placed a light kiss on his lips, waking his twin up.
. As Murphy’s sleepy and bruise-swollen eyes tried to open Conner said, “I’m going to get breakfast. Go sleep in my bed, Murph.”
. Murphy simply nodded and dragged himself to Conner’s vacant bed.
. Once settled, Conner continued, “There are clothes for the girl in the blue plastic bag.”
. “Faith,” his brother stated roughly, “her name’s Faith.”
. “Alright, Faith’s clothes are in the bag,” replied Conner, “I’ll be back soon”
. Murphy grunted in response as Conner made his way across the room to grab the keys for the car.
. On his way back towards the door, he stopped to look at Faith’s sleeping form.
. She looks so innocent, thought Conner as he gently pulled her blanket higher, like an angel, like my Jessie. He waited for the usual wave of sorrow to hit him, but there was none.
. Conner made his way over to the door, perplexed. That was the first time since she died, he thought closing the door quietly behind him, there was always a wave of pain, but this time there was none. Burying his thoughts, Conner placed a pair of sunglasses on as he made his way to the car, in the early morning sun.
. Back in the room, Murphy closed his eyes after witnessing a tender glimpse of the brother that he’d once thought lost forever. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, not daring to hope, Conner was finally getting over Jessie’s death.
A/N: OMG... thank you to everyone who reviewed. It's because of you guys that I've been writing like a maniac lately! I mean seriously, 3 chapters in 2 days!!! I am on a Boondock Smut Roll!!! Thanks especially to my roomate who threatens death... These last chapters are for you!!! :0)