o(3)o

Connor awoke in the middle of his ninth night in Intensive Care. He was sore, weak, and confused, unsure of where he was or how long he had been unconscious. Groggily, he struggled to piece together his disjointed memories, trying to recollect what had happened.

He remembered the drug deal, their mission that night. It had been wrong from the start with too many thugs and not enough time to take them out before they gained the advantage. Finding themselves surrounded, the twins had stayed back to back as long as they could, protecting each other and working together as a single unit, as they always did.

But a shot to the leg had felled Connor, forcing Murphy to be twice as fast, and twice as accurate. Murph had been too preoccupied protecting his fallen brother and trying to finish the mission, he never noticed the gunman hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect shot.

Connor remembered seeing a glint of light along the barrel of a gun aimed for Murphy's back, just a glimmer in the darkness. And suddenly, regardless of the burning pain in his leg, without being aware of a conscious decision to move, he had found himself in the bullet's path.

Ripping, searing agony had flared through his midsection, doubling him over and buckling his knees. As he had collapsed onto the concrete, Connor had dimly heard his brother's savage scream over the roaring of blood in his ears. Murphy was screaming his name over and over, trying to get to him, but there were too many men shooting at them to allow him the opportunity.

Standing over him, the shooter had sneered at Connor as he lay bleeding out onto the ground. "I guess even Saints fall from grace sometimes."

The gun had been excruciatingly heavy, but he had still managed to lift it and pull the trigger, delivering the thug to his maker with a bullet between the eyes. Connor's last thought before his world had dissolved into darkness had been a short prayer for Murphy to get out of the mayhem alive.

Now, he looked around and saw Murphy slumped over the metal guardrails of the bed, sleeping soundly, his rosary clasped in his hands.

"Murph," The first attempt came out nothing more than a raspy rush of air. Connor swallowed and tried again. "Murph,"

This time his brother's head snapped up "Connor? Yer awake!" and suddenly Murphy's hands were everywhere, gently patting Connor's arms and shoulders, ruffling his hair. "How do ye feel?"

"Like I've been fuckin' shot, how do ye think?" He reached out, halting Murphy's hands and giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "Where are we?"

"Yer in the hospital," Despite the jubilant grin, his brother's eyes were wet. He ran a hand across his face, then through his hair; a typical Murphy fidget. "Fuck, Connor, I didn't know if ye were ever gonna wake up."

"The hospital?" Through the bleariness, Connor felt a flicker of alarm, "Murph, are ye crazy? They have to call the police for shit like this. How long have I been here? What were ye thinking taking me here?"

"Ye've been in Intensive Care for over a week now. I had to take ye, there was no other choice. You were hurt so badly that doin' anything else would have killed ye. Besides," Murphy chuckled, "The police aren't coming. They don't even know we were here."

"And why the fuck not?" At his brother's quiet laughter, Connor frowned. "Murph what did ye do?"

"I didn't do anything, I swear. Danae said she wouldn't call them. She . . ." he stopped, eyes widening. "I have ta tell Danae."

"Who?"

"Danae. She's . . . I don't know . . .She works here, she's helped me, us, out a lot."

Connor could feel his twin trembling and knew, without a doubt, that Murphy had gone through hell. Whatever had come to pass since the warehouse, Murphy had been left to cope with it alone; something his ever-sociable brother had never been very good at. Connor had a feeling that whoever Danae was, she'd taken care of his brother, and he was grateful for that.

He reached up and patted Murphy's cheek affectionately. "Then I'd guess ye'd better go and tell her then, hadn't ye?"

Murphy gave his twin's hand another light squeeze then bolted out of the room. Connor chuckled, wincing, as he heard a nurse's yell, followed by a crash and a string of curses that only his brother could manage.

o()o

He had just given into the pain medication and started to doze when Murphy skidded into the room, dragging Danae behind him.

Stopping at the sight of his sleeping brother, Murphy drew in a sharp breath. "Connor?" the word came out quietly, almost fearfully.

Connor opened his eyes smiled wearily. "Aye?"

"Are ye all right?"

"Aye, a nurse came in and stuck something in my IV a bit ago, knocked me right on my arse."

Murphy was at his brother's bedside in an instant and Connor patted his arm fondly. "Take a breath now, Murph, everything's fine. I'm fine."

"I just . . ."

Connor gave his arm another squeeze. "I know." He smiled, fighting the drug-induced drowsiness. "Now, don't ye have a girl ta introduce me to?"

Murphy grinned and extended a hand toward the door, "Danae, come meet my brother."

Connor followed his twin's gaze and saw dark-haired girl lingering in the doorway, hands behind her back. Eyes sparkling, she smiled warmly at Murphy's invitation, but didn't move. "Welcome back." She said to Connor.

Murphy raised an eyebrow at her, "I suppose since he's awake it has to be the both o' us now?"

"It's common courtesy." The girl confirmed and Murphy rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Invite her in, Connor." He said in mock exasperation, "She won't move otherwise, says its etiquette or some shite like that."

Grinning, Connor extended his hand alongside Murphy's and heard his brother's laugh. "Come on in, then."

She pushed off the doorframe and walked into the room, a wide smile lighting her face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, finally." She said, clasping his hand between both of hers. "You know, the emergency room will be talking about the day you woke up for a long time."

"And why is that?"

She shot Murphy a meaningful look, but the laughter showed in her eyes. "Because it was business as usual in the ER and all of a sudden this madman comes tearing down the halls. He's yelling at the top of his lungs and tripping over everything in sight, I don't think the ICU nurse will ever be the same. "

Connor laughed and Murphy took a playful, careful, swat at him. "I was excited, all right?"

"Your brother," Danae continued, grinning "practically hurdles the registration desk, picks me up in the middle of discharging a patient and swings me around in circles; I almost killed someone with my clipboard! He's lucky I . . ." a shrill beeping cut her off. She looked down at the offending pager and groaned, "I have to get back to work. They probably think I've been kidnapped or something, but I'll be by later if I can."

Murphy nodded "I'll wait up for ye."

Danae snorted and shot him a wry smile as she walked out the door. "We'll see about that. Glad to have you back, Connor."

Connor watched her leave, still smiling as he sank back into his pillows.

"Are ye all right, Connor? Yer lookin' a bit pale," The worry reflecting in Murphy's eyes was palpable and Connor felt a painful tug at his heart noticing the sharper angles of his twin's face and the circles under his eyes.

"I'm just tired. Whatever that nurse gave me is doing the trick."

"It's probably Nubain or maybe Morphine for pain." Murphy said absently, and Connor looked at him sharply.

"How the fuck do ye know that?"

Murphy gave him a small smile, "Danae snuck me yer chart to read. 'Said that no matter what was in it, it was better than not knowing."

"Smart girl."

Murphy nodded, "She is. Yer startin' ta look pretty shook, ye should get some rest,."

"Aye, I'm halfway there now."

"Connor?" His brother's voice was small and quiet. It reminded Connor of when they were kids and Murphy would have nightmares. A frightened, shaking Murphy would crawl over to his brother's bed ready to ask if he could sleep with Connor tonight. But Connor would already be awake and scooted to the far side of the mattress, leaving plenty of room for his twin.

"What, Murph?"

"Promise me somethin'?"

Connor smiled "Anything."

"Promise me ye'll wake up in the mornin'."

Reaching up, Connor patted his twin on the cheek, "I promise."

o()o

He was back in the warehouse, watching Murphy fire his weapon with dazzling speed, protecting him and fighting for his own life. His brother was like an uncontrolled force of nature, eyes blazing, howling his battle cry as he slew one gangster after another.

Connor saw glint of light along metal, hidden in the shadows, aiming for his twin, but this time he couldn't move. He watched, horrified and helpless as Murphy was gunned down, bullets ripping through him, gore spattering the walls and floor.

Sobbing, Connor reached out to his fallen brother, dragging himself to where Murphy lay sprawled in a spreading pool of crimson.

Turning his head toward Connor and gagging on his own blood, Murphy choked as he tried to speak, more crimson trickling out of his mouth. "Dans la mort, toutes les choses commencent." He gasped out. In death, all things begin.

Then he made a sound in his throat like dice hitting concrete and the light faded from his eyes, leaving Connor alone, cradling Murphy in his arms.

He gazed into his twin's sightless eyes for a moment, grief so deep and wide that there was no outlet for it, filled him. There was nothing that could ever assuage this pain so it wasn't worth even trying. Tears running down his cheeks, wetting his brothers cooling skin Connor gently closed the blue eyes that were so like his own, murmuring the prayer they had both been taught in the cradle. "In nomine Patris,"

Murphy's gun was next to him and with trembling hands he picked it up, staring at the weapon as the answer became so very clear. He cocked the weapon, still staring down the barrel. He knew just where to aim and he knew that his twin would be waiting for him. "et Filii . . ." without a second thought he pulled the trigger.

". . . Spiritus Sancti." He was safe and warm, floating in his mother's womb, some long forgotten lullaby, echoing in his ears. Murphy was there, resting, curled against him and Connor could feel his twin's heartbeat, as familiar as his own, against the palm of his hand. He knew Murphy was perfectly happy, perfectly at peace, and his contentment infused Connor with warmth, this was where he belonged, where he had always belonged, with his brother. . .

Connor opened his eyes, the dream slowly fading. Looking, he saw Danae sitting next to him, holding his hand between both of her own. She was humming softly as she looked out the window, it was the same song he had heard in his dream, and tapping the beat of the tune lightly onto his palm with her fingertips.

He shifted and she jumped, letting go of his hand as she turned her attention back to him. "Good Morning." She said smiling.

"Mornin'," he glanced around, but there was only Danae in the room. "Where's Murph?"

"Church . . .or Mass, I guess. He said it was important that he went but that he didn't want you to wake up alone." She shrugged "That's why I'm here."

Connor nodded, his brother had always hated missing church. Often times it was Murphy who had to drag a bleary-eyed, hungover, and often narky, Connor out of bed so they didn't miss Mass. It made sense that he would be there now. It was also very convenient; something had been on his mind since he had met this girl a few nights ago. "Danae, I have somethin' I want ta ask ye."

She raised her eyebrows "Oh?"

"Why are ye doing this?"

"Murphy asked me too, I had the day off so. . ."

"Not just sitting with me. Why do all this for us? Why risk your job ta look out for someone ye don't even know?"

She smiled slightly and looked away, when she met his gaze again her eyes were serious and calm. "I'm a firm believer in that everybody needs a helping hand sometimes. Now, I don't know what circumstances brought you both here, or why, but when I saw your brother that first night, I knew you both needed that hand. My gut said it was the right thing to, so I did."

Connor could only stare; this was not what he had been expecting at all.

"And do ye offer a helping hand often?"

"Not to such an extreme. I don't know, there was just something about Murphy that night, the pain in his eyes, like everything he'd ever known and loved was crumbling aroud him, I couldn't turn away. It wouldn't have been right."

She laughed a little, a wry smile curving her lips. "Besides, someday, when I need it the most, you might just return the favor."

o()o