A Conscience is a Tricky Thing (Mal!Flynn, Rage)

[myeyesarehollow.livejournal.com]

Mal and Ardal were having a very interesting effect on one another. Their cigarettes behind the school had become a daily ritual, which meant that Mal actually showed up at school every day, which was something of a miracle. School was almost out for summer holidays anyway, and Mal actually didn't want it to end because that meant that his daily smokes would end too.

As for Ardal, he was late to class almost every day, but it never mattered because he continued to get stellar marks. He always would. And he was even getting Mal interested in history, which he saw as a great triumph. Mal wasn't stupid, he'd come to discover. He was quite intelligent, actually, he'd just never had the opportunity to apply that intelligence to anything other than violence. But he was able to understand everything Ardal explained to him, and once they had even had a debate on the ramifications of the reformation, which thrilled Ardal to no end. Apparently if you touched on something Mal was passionate about, you could get him to talk for hours and hours instead of one-syllable sentences and a shrug.

It did frighten Ardal a little though when Mal went on and on about how the English were pigs and how they had mistreated the Irish for years and it never ended. Ardal was Irish and he didn't have any particular beef with the English. He understood the problems of the past. He'd seen Michael Collins and read books upon books on the matter. He knew why they had done what they had done. What he didn't understand, was the street violence and how that translated to 'freedom fighting'. All he saw that accomplishing, was people deciding that people from Northern Ireland were violent and unable to accept compromise. But he didn't say a word to Mal. He let Mal go on and on about how angry he was and the injustice of it all, and he nodded. He liked his new friend. He didn't want to be sent away from him for disagreeing.

When Ardal wasn't around him, Mal found himself thinking about Ardal more and more. Which disturbed him because dammit, he wasn't a fucking poof. But he couldn't get Ardal out of his mind. He started wondering what Ardal would think about things and how his new friend would react and that made his interactions with the PIRA a little iffy.

"What are they plannin' in Belfast?" Rage had just asked Francis, and Mal only half heard the answer. And since he hadn't heard the context to begin with at all, it made no sense.

Mal looked up and he glanced around. "Er...is something happening?"

"Get your head out yer arse, Mal!" Francis yelled.

"Nevermind Belfast!" Rage yelled above the rest of them. "What are we goin' to do about Sinead? Her parents came to us because the police are fuckin' useless. They refuse to arrest Arsehead Collins because there isn't 'probable cause'. But I'd say raping your neighbors' daughter is pretty fucking probable cause."

"He'll be dealt with." Francis growled. "You still with us, Mal?"

"Oi, hang it off your hole, Frankie!" Malachy growled. He knew what 'he'll be dealt with' meant. And while the man deserved justice, he couldn't help but imagine Ardal's face if he heard that Mal had helped with this particular justice...

"Right so." Francis gave Malachy a wide smile which was meant only to further annoy him and it did. "And then there's the issue of the pigs who fucked with our Malachy here."

Mal sat up straighter. It had been weeks ago now that he'd claimed he wanted revenge. Nothing had come of it because they were taking things slowly. But apparently now there were plans? "Er..."

"Don't worry, Mal, this is a good plan. We've been watching the pigs. Memorising their routines. When they're out on patrol, that sort of thing. When they will be alone. We can't let what they did to you go unpunished."

"They were just doin' their jobs." Mal said and then he blinked as everyone in the room turned to stare at him. "Er...which...which I hate them for." And he nodded once, hoping that sad little addition helped him not seem like a traitor.

"Too fuckin' right." Francis nodded. "Now stop fucking talkin' so I can explain this."

Malachy did just that. He stopped talking and he listened, all the while, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. What they were planning now wasn't even for the pursuit of justice, it was personal revenge for something that had been done to him. He should be pleased to participate. Three weeks ago, he would have been. Things were different now and he had no fucking clue why.