Just when you thought it was safe to sleep....
"Ya fucked up."
He says it to the other man - himself. A bit older, with longer hair, but still Murphy MacManus.
"Ya sure about that, Murph?" Cocky grin (and Christ, how'd Connor ever keep from killing him if he acted like that?) as he takes a silver coin from his pocket.
"Considerin' yer dead, an' Connor's in a livin' hell? Aye, 'm fuckin' certain of th' fact." He watches as his future self starts tossing the coin in the air.
"Yer makin' judgements without knowin' all th' details. Rather narrow minded, even fer me." Blue eyes staring from under too long bangs. "Don't be tellin' me I fucked up until ya've lived what happened. Choices have ta be made sometimes, an' they don't always work out th' way ya hope they will." The coin lands in his hand. He looks at it for a moment, then flips it towards the younger one. "Heads I win or tails ya lose, but either way, ya have ta choose."
Sparkling arc, spinning, falling - and landing on its edge, balancing impossibly on the ground before him. He stares at it for a moment, unbelieving, before looking back to the other. "So what th' fuck does that mean, then?"
Another grin as he shrugs. "Fucked if I know."
A shot rings out
and
everything
changes.
Alone.
Somewhere inside a warehouse - old, rundown, abandoned.
There is a scream from behind him - anguish, rage, pain and fear all pooled into one word
(name)
- and he turns to see what he knows has happened.
Connor - covered in blood, weeping and cradling a too still form that Murphy knows is his own.
He says it to the other man - himself. A bit older, with longer hair, but still Murphy MacManus.
"Ya sure about that, Murph?" Cocky grin (and Christ, how'd Connor ever keep from killing him if he acted like that?) as he takes a silver coin from his pocket.
"Considerin' yer dead, an' Connor's in a livin' hell? Aye, 'm fuckin' certain of th' fact." He watches as his future self starts tossing the coin in the air.
"Yer makin' judgements without knowin' all th' details. Rather narrow minded, even fer me." Blue eyes staring from under too long bangs. "Don't be tellin' me I fucked up until ya've lived what happened. Choices have ta be made sometimes, an' they don't always work out th' way ya hope they will." The coin lands in his hand. He looks at it for a moment, then flips it towards the younger one. "Heads I win or tails ya lose, but either way, ya have ta choose."
Sparkling arc, spinning, falling - and landing on its edge, balancing impossibly on the ground before him. He stares at it for a moment, unbelieving, before looking back to the other. "So what th' fuck does that mean, then?"
Another grin as he shrugs. "Fucked if I know."
A shot rings out
and
everything
changes.
Alone.
Somewhere inside a warehouse - old, rundown, abandoned.
There is a scream from behind him - anguish, rage, pain and fear all pooled into one word
(name)
- and he turns to see what he knows has happened.
Connor - covered in blood, weeping and cradling a too still form that Murphy knows is his own.