Was it love?

She
May be the face I can't forget.
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay.
She may be the song that summer sings.
May be the chill that autumn brings.
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

She
May be the beauty or the beast.
May be the famine or the feast.
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell.
She may be the mirror of my dream.
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd.
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry.
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past.
That I'll remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
She

For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She - Charles Aznavour

Chel'an went about her days, work in the evenings either at the clinic or the bar. If it wasn't too early for them Murphy or Connor would greet her in the mornings when she'd go out for a run. They took her about the town, showing her the sights. Connor more so alone than with Murphy. She'd had them over a few times for home cooked meals. Her cooking was alot better than Murphy's, but not as horrible as Connor's. She knew their father lived with them, but work seemed to keep him out of town alot lately. They didn't talk much about work, but she never asked she presumed they still worked at the local factory, and they were always at church before she was on Sundays. The boys didn't crowd her, they didn't bother her, they didn't smother her. They were just there. Some nights either Connor or Murphy would be there to give her a ride home or an escorted walk from the clinic. She had the feeling that Murphy did it at his brother's request. She felt comforted and was greatful for the company. Maybe it was nice to be taken care of someone again, by two someones at this point.

Murphy had asked her one night about her rings, and if she had a man hidden away somewhere, "I see you fiddling with the cross while you're in church. And some nights your spinning the gleamer when you think no-one's watching ya. Is there someone waiting for you?" Connor was silent, dreading that his brother had asked the question he had not had the courage to ask. He was waiting curiously for her answer, and she was so silent, that he didn't even give Murphy a solid cuff as was expected. Chel'an finally turned to Murphy and smiled, looking from one brother to the other, "I'm a widow Murph. And yes, I suppose he's waiting for me up in heaven. But it's going to be a long while till that happens." She spoke of her husband and of how they all would've gotten along fine. They didn't ask how she lost him, they didn't want to rip open an old wound that seemed was just starting to heal. Connor was content to hear her later in the evening say, "Thing are getting easier for me. Yes, I do get a little sad. Who wouldn't. But I know I'm not broken, and I am truthfully ok."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chel'an found a local shooting range. There she went to practice her marksmanship and to requalify for her CCW. This was the one place she didn't dare take the boys. She was so conscious of them thinking she was crazy. Most guys would think girls with guns are hot, but a girl who became a widow due to guns might be a little scary. She was neither, she was cute, not hot; she was safe, not dangerous. Still it was better for people not to know if you were "carrying" at all. In the back of her head she wondered if there was some kind of adrenaline gene. Going to the local gallery or out in the desert had always been a family affair. Her father and uncles were all retired military, her brothers and male cousins either active duty or reserves, her closest female cousin a firearms instructor. And it wasn't a big secret that her own mother and aunts were much better shots than the men of the family. They didn't compete, they didn't show off. For a place that was loud and intimidating, Chel'an found solace in the quiet behind the glass, and familiarity in the flash when the bullet would leave the chamber, and the burning smell of the spent rounds. She didn't have to think, she only had to hit her mark.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tonight had been an evening of movies and pizza, and of course beer. The three of them had fallen asleep in her living room. Connor was on one end of the couch opposite of his brother. It was Murphy's snores that had awoken Chel'an from the easy chair. She found blankets and went to cover them both. She started with Murphy who was curled up and kissed him on the forehead. She made her way to Connor who had his head tilted back, sprawled sitting upright. She was deciding on shifting him, his neck would be hurting in the morning if he slept like that. She ran her fingers through his hair tipping his head gently forward, he moved into a better position of sleep. She was about to place a gentle kiss on his cheek, when she stopped to study his face, Connor was who she was sweeter on. Oh Murphy loved to flirt and was quick to offer an arm. But Connor always had a hand at the small of her back, it was like a quiet reminder, "Hello. I'm here." She leaned into him more than his brother, and neither seemed to mind. She was attracted to him, and he to her as she had guessed. But they played the "friendly game", both a little afraid of scaring the other off. She didn't mind the dance, his quiet charm was what made him so endearing.

Chel'an stepped out onto the balcony and hugged herself a little. This was nice, 3 weeks in Boston and she already had two handsome guys asleep in her apartment. She felt a hand at her back, that would be Connor. He already had a cigarette lit and was offering her one. She shook her head and mumbled a, "Sorry to wake you".

Chel'an leaned into him as his left arm circled around her waist, his head rested gently on hers, "I woke up an' you were gone. What're ya doing out here in the cold?" She shivered and he flicked his cigarette away to pull her gently into his arms.

She was still facing away from him, but was leaning more into his warmth, "Just thinking." He turned her slowly, and her arms went hesitantly around his neck. They were facing each other now, soft brown eyes looking up into calm blue ones.

"What were you thinking about?" he breathed. She felt so soft in his arms, she fit him. He was aware of the contours of her body melding with his. He was glad the cold was keeping a certain part of his body at bay, but it wasn't cold enough. Her hands were caressing the back of his neck, he wanted so much to kiss her. But she had to want to, he didn't want to force her, to put her at unease.

He learned more about her past after Smecker, their "inside man" had done a background check on her. "She's the widow of a cop. Caught in the line of fire when a vice job went bad. They were shopping, ended up in the same elevator as the targets. The stress and trauma caused her to lose a baby. She's been doing the traveling nurse thing ever since. She's a wanderer with no real home now," his FBI friend had revealed.

She leaned forward and whispered, "I was thinking about kissing you." Her lips found his gently. He was kissing her as lightly as she, only pressing forward as hers became more confident. Though it was his tongue to first softly probe into hers. It was her moan that escaped as his hands went from her waist to one supporting her back as the other found its way through her hair. He tipped her head back as his mouth traveled from her lips to her neck. She shivered as his kisses left a warm trail in the cold air.

"Let's take this inside love," he was looking at her again. They were still exploring each other, the tender kissing becoming more and more urgent. Somehow they had found their way into her bedroom. He had laid her down on the bed and his lips were just starting to explore her body, when he looked up into her eyes and found them brimming with tears. He stopped and lay beside her, enveloping her into his arms, "Shh... what's wrong?"

She wasn't sobbing out loud, but the tears were still falling, "I'm sorry. It's just been so long. I'm just a little scared." She hadn't really delved much of her past, and had felt a little guilty. But the tears tonight were the relief of wanting him and knowing that he truly wanted her too. She had not told much about "him" for fear of Connor thinking he had someone to compete with. As much as she missed "him" he would always be apart of her, but she had to put away her past and live in the now. Chel'an turned to Connor and he moved to kiss away the tears. He whispered terms of endearment and comfort, and they began again to lose themselves in each other.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Murphy woke up as the sun was rising. He opened his eyes at first confused at the sight, "Where the f#$ am I now?" Realization kicked in, Chel'an's pad. It was quiet, where was his brother? From behind the bedroom door he could hear Chel'an's soft laughter. He threw his shoe at the wall, "Woman don't laugh! He can't help being so small! You've bedded the wrong Macmanus. I'm right here!"

Chel'an's eyes were shy when she came out of the room. Connor rushing forward to tackle his brother from the couch. "Aw Christ! I just mean that it's about f-ing time!"Murphy smirked. The two were wrestling on the floor now and Chel'an went about to make breakfast. "That went well," she breathed.