Boondock Saints: In A Child's Eyes, Part 3

Disclaimer: I don't own The Boondock Saints as much as I wish I did.

AN: I'm sorry this took so long to get up. I hope anyone who read the beginning is still interested in the ending.

Murphy lay asleep on the bed. Annie was in the shower. The boy, Declan, sat obediently at the closed door, right in the middle of the floor. He didn't make a sound and hardly moved to even breathe. Connor and his father sat back, across from each other, at a small table. Connor had a cigarette and Il Duce had a cigar. The window was open to let the smoke out and let in the only light inside the small hotel room. Connor stared outside, though the view was anything but pleasant. A parking lot with a few cars against a brick wall, covered in graffiti. They were just outside Boston.

Connor imagined that he was looking back to his youth, in Ireland, so he didn't have to really see the mess. One of those carefree memories he still had played in front of him. He played with Murphy in the short grass. There was the scent of fresh air and nature, plants. He resisted the urge to look at his father as he relived the old memory. The man with the gray beard and cigar had left without seeing any of that.

"We should get out of the country, go back to Ireland," his father said suddenly. "Take those two to that Agent Smecker. He'll put them in protective custody and then they can start a new life somewhere."

"Murphy won't agree to that," Connor replied. He didn't like the idea himself. If the children were being snatched for no other reason besides their names, something they had no power over, Connor wanted to do something. He didn't know what he wanted to do, that would come with more thought, but it seemed hypocritical to just leave them. Then there was Annie too. She had a good job, a nice place to live, and other friends. The police had to be at her apartment by then, piecing together the situation. On the evening news, people would be told who she was and that she was missing. Connor stood and picked up the phone.

Declan was watching him silently with large eyes. The boy had watched murder through those eyes. They weren't innocent and questioning anymore as a child's eyes should be. He understood exactly what they'd said and exactly what Connor meant to do with the phone. Then he looked away, at the bathroom door again. The sound of shower water was gone now. Il Duce stood then. Without a word, he stepped outside. The voice of the operator made Connor look at the phone.

"If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again."

He put the receiver in the cradle again and walked out after his father



"Agent Smecker, we found a kid's shoe in the trash," Dolly reported. "It's got blood on it." Smecker ground his teeth in a circle before replying. That shoe would link the Saints to this Annie Odell and her to the crime scene of the previous day. She was a simple writer for a newspaper, not the type of person, it seemed, to be involved in this mess. The MacManuses had better get some explaining done soon or things would get beyond his control.

"So they're testing the blood with that from the midget footprint," Smecker stated. The three detectives exchanged a look that made him suspicious. He didn't like it.

"Actually, no one knows it's there yet," Duffy informed him, nervously flipping back his coat and tucking his thumbs in his belt.

"You're talking about evidence tampering, boys," Smecker said gravely. "We're not sure what this woman's involvement is yet." His eyes scanned the room. He took in the scene again with the broken window, the bodies, no pennies, and the blood splatter on the wall. It couldn't have belonged to any of the dead guys. Someone else had gotten hit and that someone was no longer in the room. He looked over at the trashcan. Evidence tampering could really get them in trouble.

"Agent Smecker?" Dolly questioned. He blinked.

"What's that little—thing—on the floor?" Smecker asked, pointing.

"Oh, someone stepped on the fucking fish," Greenly replied casually. Agent Smecker rolled his eyes.

"All right, here's what happened here…"



"Details tonight are still sketchy but police have confirmed that a young woman by the name of Annie Odell has gone missing. It is unconfirmed whether or not the Saints are involved this time. We'll keep you posted and in the meantime, if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Annie Odell, the Boston police are requesting that you please contact them."

Connor slammed his hand into the vending machine. The bag of chips came loose and clattered down so he could claim them, which he did with only a certain amount of frustration. He took them back to the small motel room. The lights were turned out and he felt for the switch. Illumination. Annie blinked, curled in a chair next to Murphy, who still slept on the bed. She wore his shirt. Their father had probably burned her blood stained outfit already.

"Where's the boy?" Connor asked quietly. Annie looked over at the table. He could make out the kid under the table just barely. "I got him some food."

"That's hardly food," Annie replied.

Connor chuckled in good humor and put the junk food on the table. He pulled out a chair and fell into it. Declan scooted away. It was a little stinging to Connor, he didn't mean the boy any harm. He opened the bag of chips and made sure to do so noisily. If Annie had a comment about it, she didn't share. Connor was glad it didn't wake Murphy, so he crunched away, loudly. After a moment, he stuck them under the table. Declan raised his head but didn't fall for it. Connor sighed and left the bag on the floor, just in case he changed his mind.

"I told you it wasn't food," Annie said. Her voice trembled.

"Too smart for me," Connor agreed. "Murphy needs to join the living again soon." He took out a cigarette and lit it up before continuing. The nicotine gave him some comfort. "Da's plan is to turn you and the boy over to Smecker. They'll probably put you in witness protection."

"And then we'll never you see you again," Annie stated what he had implied. "Or Murphy."

"Aye."

"I'm a realist, Connor, I know there's not much of a choice," Annie told him. She stood up and gestured that the chair was all his. Declan became her focus. She knelt by the table and tried to coax him out. Connor sighed. He crossed the room and laid a hand on Murphy's shoulder. When his twin didn't wake, he shook him.

"Hey, lemme sleep," Murphy slurred.

"In a minute, Murph," Connor told him. "Just wake up."

"Fuck," Murphy replied.

"Language around a lady, and a kid," Connor reprimanded. Murphy snickered. He tried to sit up and Connor gave him a hand. Still, Murphy jarred his leg and hissed. "Sorry."

Murphy tried to shrug it off, pointing at the ice on the nightstand. Connor handed it to him and waited a moment, picking his words carefully.

"You awake yet?" Connor asked. Murphy nodded, refraining from making a sarcastic remark. He could tell Connor wanted to be serious, but he was afraid to do so. "Da's got a plan..." He trailed off and shook his head, avoiding Murphy's eyes.

"Well?"

"We'll hand them over to Smecker and get out of the country like we planned," Connor said finally. "It's too hot here, right after that court room scene--"

"Hell no!" Murphy protested.. "We can't just leave like that!" Annie jumped at his outburst and looked over her shoulder. Neither of them noticed.

"It's better for us to listen to Da," Connor said. "Look at yourself, you've got a fucking hole in your fucking leg."

"What about the indifference of good men, Connor, what about that?" Murphy asked fiercely. There was silence for a moment, but it was tense. Connor couldn't look his brother in the eye, not while Murphy glared at him with such conviction. Murphy swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"What about we're not always doing business?" Connor asked quietly. "We gotta stop somewhere."

"But we can't stop here, what about this kid's sister? You have to be fucking insane to think I'm going anywhere," Murphy spat.

"What about all this?" Connor spat right back. "That doesn't change it. What about Da, he knows more about this shit than we do. He's been in all this trouble before."

"Ah, what the fuck, why the hell do you follow Da so blindly?" Murphy said. "He left us!" Connor grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. Annie gasped and rushed over, putting a hand on Connor's arm. They still ignored her.

"Don't you talk about your father like that, ever!" Connor growled. "What about Rocco, Murph? They killed him! He's dead! What if that had been you?" Murphy's hands flew to the front of Connor's shirt, locking them in an identical hold.

"It wasn't!" Murphy retorted. "I'm still here. You're holding onto me right now yourself!"

"Let go!" Annie interjected loudly. "Both of you!" Murphy looked at her instead of his brother.

"What about God?" Murphy whispered. He shoved Connor away and fell back onto the bed, gripping his leg and breathing heavily. Connor stumbled back and found his footing. He blinked. He hadn't noticed he'd been hurting Murphy, how could that have happened? Annie looked between them, scared. Murphy took his hand away and stared at the blood. The wound was torn open again. Connor knelt and put his hand over it. The reporter went to the bathroom for some towels.

"I'm sorry," Connor breathed. "I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, well I did," Murphy said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going anywhere."