So this is it! The last chapter! Thanks for all the reviews, sorry I screwed it up, sorry there wasn't a biiiiiiiiiiiig superduper exciting
climax, sorry I was getting lazy, but I hope it was still ok. I think great big action fic's with loads of boom and baddies ain't my thing. :D

Two Sides Of The Same Coin
Part 2| New York

Chapter 20 - Ireland

Murphy woke up because he was thirsty. The definition of thirsty.
He had been pretty much dehydrated when Connor found him, simply because Merle Dixon hadn't bothered giving him food and water.
When the younger MacManus opened his eyes he had no idea how long he had slept. It was dark outside, so it could've been just a couple of hours
or more than a day. It felt like he'd been lying in bed more than a couple of hours though. His back hurt like hell, not only because of all the things
Merle had been doing to him, but also because the bed was a useless piece of junk. He grunted and tried to shift a bit to feel more comfortable
but it was useless. His whole body burned with pain from all the cuts and bruises. His eyes snapped open when he could feel a person
shift next to him. The darkhaired twin sat up abruptly and searched for his knife under his pillow but it wasn't there.

"Eh, easy."
he heard a familiar voice and looked at the person who was sitting next to his bed. He let out a relieved sigh and relaxed.

"It's ye.." he murmured and lay back down on the bed. His brother leaned forward and put the cover back on top of him with a smile on his face.

"Aye, af course 's me."
Connor answered and looked at his twin.

"How are ye feelin Murph?"

"Bout as good as I look."

The blonde chuckled and leaned back.
"Didn't look tha bad last time I checked."

Murphy snorted and sat up on his bed. He put a pillow between himself and the wall and leaned back as well.
They didn't speak for a while and just looked at each other. Murphy was more than happy to see Connor's face again, he had missed
him after all. The younger could tell that his twin brother hadn't slept much the last couple days because there were shadows circling
his eyes and frowns and wrinkles everywhere. Connor looked so much older all of the sudden. Older and just plain tired.

"Ye got a smoke?"
Murphy asked quietly and Connor nodded. He grabbed the cigarette pack from the nightstand and put two smokes in his mouth to light them.
He took a quick drag and gave one to Murphy. As soon as he took the first drag himself the darkhaired twin groaned.

"Fuck, I've missed tha" he said and took another one. His brother laughed a bit, but not his loud and cheerful laugh.
"Really though, tha was te worst kinda torture. Not havin any fuckin smokes fer fuckin days!"

Connor's face fell as soon as he heard the word torture.

"'m fine Conn. Really. Wasn' tha bad."

"Shouldn't have happened in te first place." the blonde just said and looked away. He got up and started walking up and down the room.

"'m just so fuckin pissed that that fucker's still alive. That he could just run away like that." he said and kicked his bed.
He was so frustrated because he had messed everything up again. Ever since they had come to New York everything had been one big mess.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were the saints. Back in Boston they had always managed to finish their jobs. It was so frustrating.

"Ye managed ta shoot him, didn't ye? Besides,'m pretty sure he got fuckin arrested. I know that te police pretty much fuckin sucks at this,
but still. It's te next closest thing ta justice."

"Aye, but still. 't wasn't supposed ta be his fuckin shoulder. We were sapposed ta put a bullet ta his head.
I was really lookin forward ta that, ye know?"

Murphy swallowed when this reminded him of something. Connor turned his head and looked at him with a tired smile.

"But whatever. We were runnin outta time. At least I got ye outta there. Yer life's more important than that.
And we didn't get caught. So what te fuck."

The younger snorted and looked out of the window.
"Don't ye wish ye could get revenge?"

Connor sat down on his bed and frowned. "What?"

Murphy grabbed the ashtray and put his cigarette out. For a while he just stared at it and watched it go out.

"I was lookin forward to it. Pictured all sorts af things I was gonna do ta him. Remember what we did ta those fuckin guards back at Yakavetta's house?
Kickin te shit outta them and stabbing their backs because af what they did ta Roc? I was looking forward ta fuckin doing that again."

The younger blew out some air and watched the cars driving by outside. Connor just stared at his brother in surprise.

"Ye know that te shit we do isn't about revenge. It's about justice and obedience."

"Isn't revenge about te same thing?"
Murphy asked and they both looked at each other. Connor was surprised to see that his younger half was being serious.
And yet again he had to realize that their job, their calling or however you may call it, was changing his brother. Changing them.

"Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it ta te wrath of God, fer it is written, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says te Lord."
Connor quoted and Murphy stared at him.

For a while they didn't say anything at all. Murphy fiddled about with bandages and concentrated on that because soon he could no
longer look his brother in the eye. He knew that what he had just said was wrong, but they had never lied to each other before.
Neither had they kept anything from each other. He also thought that he was right. Merle deserved to get punished properly,
just like they had punished the other ones a couple of months ago. How could Connor say something different all of the sudden?

"Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil." the blonde went on and his younger half had enough.

"I fuckin got it Connor!" he spat and kicked his bed cover away. He got up and growled. All the anger was eating him up all of the sudden.
He wanted to fight Connor, bury his fists in his face just to shut him up. Because he wasn't the one that should be lectured.
Because it was fucking Connor who had screwed everything up. Because fucking Connor had let this asshole Dixon take him away
and on top of that fucking Connor had refused to shoot him in the head.

"Where are ye goin?" his brother asked and Murphy lit another smoke.

"Ta take a piss, ye wanna fuckin tell me what god thinks about that?"

"Oh fuck ye, I was just trying ta tell ye ta be careful what ye fuckin wish fer!"

"Go fuck yerself."
Murphy growled and slammed the door shut. Connor shook his head and growled as well. He moved his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"Fuck."

He needed fresh air. He needed time to think and process everything he had just heard.
Connor grabbed his coat and a couple of cigarettes and looked at the door that led to the small and shitty bathroom.

"'m goin out fer a bit."

"Bring fuckin booze with ye!"
Murphy answered from the other side of the door and his twin snorted.

"Check te fuckin fridge!"
With that he left the room and closed the door behind him.

It was getting cold. Once he was outside he couldn't help but think about the Dixons, Daryl most of all. He was sure that the redneck
was pretty pissed at him because of him shooting the gun at his brother, but right now he was too tired and worried about Murphy
to really worry about that as well. He walked down the road for a bit and decided to head for the nearby park. The older MacManus
didn't really know how he was supposed to feel right now. Of course, he was relieved that Murphy was back. Alive. That they were
together again. That it was over. But still. There were so many things and thoughts going through his mind that he couldn't really
feel happy about the whole thing. Merle Dixon was still alive although he had captured and tortured one of the Saints.

Someone had managed to seperate them. First they had screwed up killing Millbury and putting 7 souls to rest. And now this.
Murphy being so angry and so full of wrath and his thirst for revenge. If he was honest he had to admit that he liked the idea of
punishing Merle as well. Not just killing him with a bullet to his head and pennies on his eyes. But it was that feeling and these
thoughts that made him feel uncomfortable. Made him worry. He remembered that time, back in Boston when they had been sitting
on that rooftop or smoking outside Doc's pub when he had been the one being all angry and full of wrath. When he had first told
Murphy that he wanted to kill Merle Dixon. How surprised Murphy had been. Surprised and innocent. Then he remembered Murphy
lying in that bed, all bruised and bloody and with that look on his face...

He had managed to change his own twin and made him demand punishment, but was this really what he had wanted a couple of months ago?
He had pictured it to be glorious. Them being something like heros. The shit you saw in the movies all the time. People who go out
and hunt the baddies, people who serve heaven and bring justice to this filthy world they were living in. Now he had been proven
that there was no such thing. That he had been naive to believe something like this. Because now Rocco was dead. Murphy was injured.
They had been shot and tortured more than once. There was nothing heroic about it anymore. Nothing glorious.

He gasped when he ran right into someone.

""Fuck, watch where yer fuckin goin."
he mumbled and tried to walk on. He wasn't even paying attention to whoever he'd just run into.

""No, you watch where yah fuckin goin, prick!" the other growled and Connor looked up when he recognized the voice.

"It's ye. Were te fuck have ye been?"
The Irishman asked and looked at Daryl in surprise. He was carrying a small bag and wore different clothes.

"What's it matter t'yah. Walkin the wrong way mick, police's over there." the redneck murmured and then started walking again.

"Where are ye goin?"
Connor asked and went after him.

"'m leavin, that's what I do."
Daryl answered and wouldn't bother looking at the Irishman.

"But..."

Suddenly the redneck stopped walking and turned around. He looked pissed.

"Just been to the freakin police station. Turns out they're keepin Merle here. Again. And I ain't stayin a second longer in this shithole of a city.
'm going back t'Georgia."

Daryl turned around again and Connor followed him.

"Ye can't just fuckin leave like tha."
The other man stopped walking and sighed. After a moment of just standing there and waiting, he turned around and looked at Connor.

"What do yah expect me t'do? Wait here for him to get out of prison just so the dumbass can end up in there again? 'm fuckin done babysitting him.
He fucked up big time here, ain't gonna do shit like this again. And ain't no way 'm gonna stay with yah freaks with your bibleshit and shootin people.
I mean I practically saved yah life an all, but that's just me payin my debts. Yah really think 'm gonna stay with yah after yah tried
t'kill my brother? Shot him? Yer lucky yah still got yah teeth in, mick."

He tried to walk away again but Connor wouldn't let it be.

"So what, yer just gonna go back ta yer old life? Waitin fer tha asshole ta come back ta wherever ye live and make ye his slave again?
Yer a fuckin good man. Yah just gonna turn yer fuckin back on us after everything did fer ye, everything I tried ta help ye?
No thanks, no nothin?"

"Damn right no thanks."

This comment made Connor stop following him. He wanted to say something, curse and insult the man that looked like his brother
because he didn't want him to leave, but the truth was that he didn't really know what to say or do. They didn't know each other at all.
Maybe he really just needed to stop thinking that this man was supposed to be with them just because he had Murphy's face.
The Irishman watched Daryl walk away, somewhat hoping that the redneck would change his mind, but no such thing would happen.
Pretty soon he was gone, lost in the crowd of people walking down the sidewalk.
Wrong place, wrong time was all Connor could think about then. There were so many problems going on in their own lives at the moment,
that they couldn't possibly do anything about Daryl right now. No matter how much he would have loved to help him, he just couldn't right now.
He had seen all the scars, all the pain and anger, his fucked up brother and complicated life, and he regretted that he couldn't do anything about it.
The Irishman put his hands in his pockets and turned around to head back. Just then he saw the phone booth.
So Daryl was going back home to Georgia. He was turning his back on New York and all the trouble it had caused. The man had decided to let it be.
Connor chewed on his bottom lip and shifted from one foot to the next.

"Fuck it."
he murmured and grabbed the receiver. He dialed the number and turned around to check if someone was watching or following him.
After a few rings the person on the other line finally picked up. The older MacManus leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Da? 's me. Connor."

Murphy was watching tv when his brother returned. He closed the door behind him and got rid of his pea coat.
The younger MacManus just watched his brother wander about for a moment, then he decided it was his turn to say something.

"Where's te hard stuff?" he asked and Connor snickered.

"I told ye ta check te fridge."
He sat down on his bed and looked at the tv.

"What are ye watchin?" he asked and Murphy shrugged.

"Some random bullshit. Nothin's on."

Connor grinned when he recognized the movie.
"'s tha fuckin Ghostbusters?"

Murphy nodded and lit another smoke. "Aye."

"We could check te place out and pretend we're te fuckin Ghostbusters."
the blonde twin suggested after a while and Murphy snorted.

"So what, our next job's Marshmallow Man?"

Connor started laughing and nodded.
"Fuckin aye! But we'd need a fuckin crane, grenade launchers and fuckin gullies fer his eyes."

They both looked at each other and burst out laughing. It took them a while to recover from their fit of laughter and imagining how
they took on Marshmallow Man and became the Saints of New York, but when they did it was Murphy who spoke first.

"No but really Conn, were do we head next? Wha's our next destination?"

"Ireland."
Connor answered and his twin frowned.

"What?"

"We're goin back home Murph."

Murphy just stared at Connor and didn't know what to say. His brother was still watching tv, and after a moment he rubbed his neck and sighed.

"I called Da on me way out. Told him 'bout everything. Millbury, ye, those fuckin rednecks, te police...He and I kinda agreed on it.
We need ta fuckin get outta here Murph. 's gettin ta hot fer us here in America. We're all over te fuckin news, everyone's lookin
fer us and most af all: it's too fuckin dangerous. We ate 4 bullets in less than a year, we got fuckin tortured..it's fucking changing us,
how we talk, how we think...just can't fuckin do it anymore. Da's on his way down here. We'll get on a boat in a couple af days and
get te fuck outta here. Back home. Hide there some place, maybe visit Ma."

Murphy snorted and finally knew how to talk.
"Yer fuckin talkin like it's already decided."

Connor nodded but wouldn't look at him.
"Aye, cos it is. Da's arranging things this very second."

"Ever fuckin thought about me here? I don' wanna fuckin go back home! This is our fuckin home now, this is our fuckin job Connor!
There's so much filth on te streets, we can't just fuckin leave now like a fuckin bunch af pussies just cos af a couple af bullets
and assholes!"

"Shut te fuck up Murph, I almost fuckin lost ye again!"
Connor spat and glared at his twin.

"We need a fuckin break and wait fer te fuckin police ta calm down or else we'll end up with a fuckin needle in our arms!"

"So fuckin what, at least we fuckin died heros and not like the fuckin bunch af pussies yer tryin ta turn us into!"

The punch that followed echoed through the rooms for what seemed like hours.
Murphy grabbed his cheek and looked at his brother in surprise.

"This isn't about hero shit and pussies. 'm talkin about our fuckin lives here Murphy. We ain't no use ta anyone with our fuckin idea
af justice if we're fuckin dead. Now grow a fuckin pair and pull yerself tagether. Don't act like a fuckin child."

Murphy snorted.
"Ye mean yer fuckin idea af justice. Ye know wha? Screw ye Connor. Ye wanna leave? Fine, there's te fuckin door. But I ain't leavin.
'm gonna stay here and do what god fuckin asked us ta do. Our lives ain't more important than his mission."

"Fuck his mission!"
Connor yelled and his brother looked at him again.

"Open yer fuckin eyes, look in te fuckin mirror Murph. Ye wanna stay here? Fuckin try me, cos 'm gonna fuckin drag ye outta this fuckin place.
Whether ye like it or not."

The blonde twin got up and lit another smoke. His younger half just stared at his back, full of anger. So..disappointed.
It wasn't the first time they had managed to get in a fight over something, but this was the first time he really hated his brother.
He knew he wouldn't stand a chance alone in America. For one because it really was too dangerous, and because sooner or later
the seperation from his twin would kill him, no matter how much hated him. They were meant to be together. They were two pieces
of a whole after all. Connor knew that, and the fact that he was using it against him this time hurt Murphy more than anything in the world.
He lay back down and tried to shut it out. Sleep and ignore.

Connor tried to start a conversation with him a couple of hours later, then he tried to apologize, then he was begging, but Murphy
punished him with silence. Two days later they met their Da and got on a boat. They were talking again, but deep down they
both knew that something between them had changed and that it would take them many years to recover from it.

It took Murphy a while to forgive Connor, but eventually he calmed down. They were back home, and Ireland was doing the exact
thing Connor had expected it to do to them: Give them peace. About two or three years later the younger MacManus had
fully adjusted to their new old life with their father on the farm. They let their hair grow and slept outside sometimes, and during one
of those nights Murphy suddenly turned around and looked at his twin who was sleeping right next to him.

"Conn?" he asked quietly and after a couple of minutes his twin shifted and looked at him.

"Aye?"

The darkhaired twin turned on his back and stared at the nightsky.

"I think I finally get what ye meant 3 years ago. When we left New York."

Connor frowned and looked at his twin. He still thought it was funny to see Murphy with long hair and a beard, but then again,
he assumed his brother was thinking the same about him.

"What?"

Murphy turned his head to look at him.

"'s not about god's fuckin mission. Or all those bastards on te street."

Connor just looked at him and waited for him to go on. His younger half looked back up at the stars and smiled.

" 's about us."

THE END