Michael Collins Page #6

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Jesus, what are you doing to me?

They can shoot us, but they can't get us.

-What are you talking about?

-lt's not possible.

l'm going to live to see you old.

l am old.

Old enough to see your hair turn grey.

l come from a long line of baldies.

Bald, then.

l can live with that.

l will not fight against men l trained with,

l fought with!

The people have spoken

for the treaty you brought home!

They've occupied the Four Courts,

Limerick, Cork. lt's anarchy.

Better anarchy than civil war!

-Churchill offered artillery!

-He can do his own dirty work!

Maybe he will, Michael.

Maybe he will.

Stop!

-lt's not safe--

-Do as you're told.

Harry, talk to me, will you?

l don't want any bullshit, Mick.

Neither do l.

Come upstairs.

ls it true what l heard?

You're engaged?

Should l apologize for that, too?

No, no, no.

l'm happy for you both.

Me arse. You don't look it.

Maybe l don't, but l'm trying.

Do you understand? l'm trying.

l miss the way it used to be.

Me too.

l hear you're Dev's right-hand man.

Well, l suppose that's how it goes.

We were too dangerous together.

Know the funny thing, Harry?

For the first time in my life, l'm scared.

The Big Fella, scared?

l hate to say it, Mick,

but you've a right to be.

You don't understand me.

You told me once

l was good at bloody mayhem.

Right.

l left the Brits in the halfpenny place.

That's what l'm scared of,

because once l start...

...there'll be no stopping me.

Don't let it start, then.

Tear up that treaty.

lt's the only thing we've got.

So, then it starts.

What?

We fight.

They fight. We don't.

You've said what you had to say

and you can go now.

Listen,

you don't know what you're saying!

l have nothing more to say to you!

-Do it!

-Put the gun down!

Save us all a lot of bother. Do it!

Put the gun down.

Do you not hear me!

l said put the gun down!

Get out!

-Do it!

-Fire!

How would you like a new boss, Joe?

Check the other side.

What happened?

They shot their way to the Catacombs.

He thinks Harry was with them.

-Let's go.

-Mick, it's not safe!

We'll never get through!

Stop!

Stop!

Come on! Come on!

Calm down! lt's the Big Fella!

What happened?

Who closed your eyes?

He tried to run across the river, sir.

l plugged him.

l didn't ask you. l asked him.

You asked who?

l f***ing asked him!

-But he's dead, sir.

-And you killed him, you little git!

You plugged him,

you Free State gob-shite!

-You were meant to protect him!

-He was one of them, sir!

No, sonny! You don't understand.

He was one of us.

Go on!

Back to your posts.

The papers said his last words were:

'Have they got Mick Collins yet?'

You know it's not true, Mick.

l don't know anything, anymore.

Tell Dev Mick wants to talk.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Not in Dublin.

Where, then?

West Cork...

...there might be a chance.

He'd never get out of there alive.

Doesn't he come from there?

That's bandit country.

They're bandits he trained, aren't they?

Maybe.

But Mick doesn't know the new boys.

He'll have to get to know them now.

Gentlemen.

What time is it?

Seven. Have you been here all night?

Any news?

They say if you went to Cork

there might be a possibility.

F***!

What do you think?

We've cleared them out

except for West Cork.

They wouldn't kill me in my own county.

How would you like a new boss, Joe?

Still, be nice to go home.

-You'd be crazy to go.

-So, l'm crazy.

Get the convoy together.

Go on.

-What?

-Here. For the cough.

Here. New handkerchief.

Go on! You're like an old clucking hen,

fussing all the time!

Sweet suffering Jesus!

lf you're going down, l'm going too.

That's where it all started, Joe.

Fenian stories by the fireside.

That's your home?

Was, till the Tans burned it.

What are you doing here, Mick?

Haven't l a civil war to run?

Come on! lt's my round.

Come to flog us that bloody treaty,

have you?

l'm flogging f***-all.

l've come to buy.

Drinks for the county on me.

Come on, four pints.

ls it him?

Looks like it.

Looks like he wants to meet.

Can l trust him?

Can you trust anyone these days, chief?

'Oh, well do l remember...

'...the year of '48

'When l rose with comrades

brave and true

'l was hunted through the hills by slaves

'Who served a foreign queen

''And that's

''Another reason why

''I left old Skibereen''

Say it to me, kid.

Put it away, Joe.

Who the f*** are you?

Who the f*** am l?

l'm the f***er that asked to meet Dev.

And who's Dev?

And who are you?

lf l did know this Dev,

what would you say to him?

Tell him...

...Harry Boland's death was enough.

Tell him Mick Collins wants to stop

this bloody mayhem.

Tell him l'm sorry

l didn't bring back the Republic.

But nobody could have!

He was my chief, always.

l'd have followed him to hell

if he'd asked me.

And maybe l did.

But it's not worth fighting for anymore.

We've got to build with what we have!

You tell him that.

Where can he find you?

Here.

So, l take it you heard?

Jesus, Mick.

God forgive us, Harry.

Have you got any reply?

He's come all this way.

Be rude not to give him an answer.

Well?

He says he'll meet you tomorrow.

What's wrong with now?

His nerves are at him.

Beal Na Blath. A farmhouse

to the left on the Bandon side.

Around 12:
00.

Hey kid...what's your name?

Little snot.

Beal Na Blath?

Should l ask them all to the wedding?

Do you think that'd fix it?

Be a big bloody wedding, Mick.

We'll invite the whole country.

Marital diplomacy.

Dev as best man. Lloyd George,

Winston Churchill as bridesmaids.

What's up?

We're stopped?

Roadblock.

Move it!

Get those carts off the road!

How long?

Two minutes.

Jeez, they're trying to f***ing kill me.

Get down!

Give it to me! Get off!

No! Jeez, Mick!

Talk to me!

Don't go!

Don't go, Mick!

Jesus, don't go on us, Mick! Please!

Miss Kiernan?

l'm sorry.

l just heard.

l'm sorry.

That's why he died, Kitty.

He knew the risk

he was taking to go there.

But he thought it worth taking.

He took them for us.

For every gob-shite in this country,

no matter what side.

lf he saw you now,

know what he'd say?

'Get off the parliamentary side

of your arse and get some color.'

He would have said it better, Joe.

'No regrets, Kit.'

That's what he'd say.

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