-Stitches-

"Jesus Christ, Connor!" Blaise cursed as she dragged the limping man into her house, followed closely by Murphy. "What the fuck did you do?"

"Long story." Murphy said.

"Is your shoulder dislocated?" Blaise asked as she looked Murphy over.

Murphy nodded, wincing.

"And you what? Walked all the way here?" Blaise asked, setting Connor on the floor. He was half conscious and bleeding out of what looked like knife wounds.

Blaise stopped.

"Where's Rocco?"

The brothers got very quiet.

Blaise nodded in understanding. She grabbed Connor's chin and forced him to look at her. "Connor, you're not gonna die. Lemme fix Murphy's shoulder an' then I'll stitch you up."

"A'right." Connor replied sleepily.

Blaise frowned. He was in shock. Which made no sense, he'd had worse. She turned to Murphy.

"Go upstairs. Spare room. I'll be right there." Blaise instructed.

Murphy nodded and did as he was told, his boots heavy on the steps as he walked.

Blaise knelt down by Connor. "Don't go to sleep, you bastard." She warned. She reached around his neck and took off his rosary. She placed it in his hands. "Say it." She demanded. "Pray the rosary. I'll be back before you're done the first decade."

Connor nodded, fingers counting the beads as his lips moved silently mouthing the prayers associated with them.

Blaise got up and rushed up the stairs after Murphy. He had seated himself on the bed in the spare room where he'd spent far too many nights in Blaise's care for him to admit. He'd shrugged out of his coat and Blaise could see the swelling in his shoulder through his thin shirt.

"Goddammit." She mumbled, noticing the smaller wounds and bruises on his arms. "What did you do?"

"Got caught at Yakavetta's." Murphy replied as Blaise felt the joint where the bone had pulled free from it's socket. Yes, it was a dislocated shoulder.

Blaise's eyes darted to the deep bruise on Murphy's wrist and she bit her lip.

"We're okay." Murphy assured her through gritted teeth. "Mostly."

Blaise took a deep breath. "You lost Roc?" She asked.

"Yeah..." Murphy said quietly. "But... I think we made a new friend."

"Who?" Blaise asked, trying to engage Murphy's mind.

"It's really hard to explain." Murphy replied. "I'll let Connor explain it when - AH FUCK!"

The snap of his shoulder as Blaise pulled it back in to place caught him off guard and made her stomach churn. But it was done. She'd just done it without warning, it was easier that way, less resistance.

"Better?" She asked.

Murphy nodded through the tears in his eyes. "Fuck." He breathed.

"Good." She smiled weakly. "I'm gonna go take care of Conn. There's clothes still in the closet. You owe me one hell of an explanation after this is all done." She added.

"I will sing your praises in all the tongues of the world when you're done." Murphy replied.

Blaise nodded and went to retrieve her first aid kit from her office.

Murphy listened as she walked down the stairs. He'd change quickly, wash his hands and face and then go help take care of his brother.

By the time Murphy got downstairs, Blaise was busily stitching up a wound in Connor's chest that Murphy hadn't noticed before. His brother was just as bruised as he was and Murphy felt a pang of guilt strike him as he watched Blaise silently work.

Connor's eyes were glassy and distant as Blaise stitched him up. She'd given him some pain killers, obviously.

"How's it going?" Murphy asked hesitantly.

"Fine." Blaise said nonchalantly. Her stitches were professional and she didn't falter or wince as she poked the curved needle into Connor's flesh over and over.

"What's up with Conn?" Murphy asked.

Blaise looked up at Connor, who was sitting very still and quiet, staring at the wall. She smirked as his fingers moved the rosary along, bead by bead.

"I told him to be quiet and pray the rosary." Blaise said, shifting enough so Murphy could see the moving beads between his brother's fingers. "And I gave him codeine."

"Ah." Murphy said with a smirk.

"It's in the kit." Blaise offered as she went back to stitching up the wound. "If you want some for your shoulder."

Murphy looked longingly towards the medical supply kit on the table. "No. Thanks. One of us has to be sober."

"There's beer in the fridge." Blaise countered.

"Sober is a relative term." Murphy said with a smile, opting for a beer instead of painkillers.

"Okay Conn." Blaise said, reaching for a large square gauze bandage. She peeled the backing off and pressed it against his chest. "All done, love." She stood and kissed his forehead. "You okay?"

Connor blinked and looked up at her. "Yeah. I think so." He said quietly. "Thank you."

Murphy sat quietly at the familiar table, nursing his beer.

Blaise folded her arms across her chest. "What are you gonna do?"

Connor turned to look at his brother. Murphy stared back.

"No idea." Connor said, slurring his words through the high-end pain killers.

"You can stay here." Blaise offered.

"Tonight?" Murphy asked. "Yeah, I think that'll be all right."

"There's something you're not telling me." Blaise accused. "I know, you're acting all weird. And if it's as big as you're suggesting it is by your actions, I have every right to know. I'm in just as much danger as you are."

Murphy frowned into his drink and a look of torture crossed Connor's face.

"What?" Blaise demanded.

"Our Da' is a mafia hit man." Connor said slowly. "An' he was hired t' take us out."

"He didn't." Murphy added. "He uh... technically, he saved us."

Blaise's knees buckled and she sank to the floor. "What?" She asked. "How d'you know that?"

"Family prayer." Connor said.

Blaise stared at her boys. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She started to laugh. "You're serious, aren't you?" She asked through the laughter. She was sure that she was losing her mind.

"Yeah." Murphy replied.

"And does he know you're here?" Blaise asked.

"No." Connor said quickly. "God no. That would be..."

"Disastrous." Murphy finished.

Blaise pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who is he?" She asked finally. "If he's a mob hit man?"

The brothers exchanged another look.

"Il Duce." Connor said finally.

"Fuck!" Blaise exclaimed. "Fuck. Really? Fuck!" She got up and stormed off, up the stairs.

The brothers heard one of the doors slam from upstairs.

"Think she's mad?" Murphy asked sarcastically.

"How the hell does she know who Il Duce is?" Connor asked, a shiver running down his spine. He was still shirtless from Blaise's operation.

"Beats me." Murphy said. "But Lucius was a cop, remember?"

"Y' think she's got a reason t' be afraid?" Connor asked nervously.

"Il Duce's rules are no women, no kids, right?" Murphy asked. "I think she's okay."

Connor rested his head in his hands. "Fuck." He muttered. He sighed, the pleasant numb feeling of the codeine was wearing off as adrenaline kicked back in. "I'll go talk to her." He said with a sigh. He took a moment to take off his shoes, dusty and bloodstained as they were, and replace the rosary around his neck.

"Good luck." Murphy said quietly, finishing his beer.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need it." Connor agreed as he limped his way up the stairs.

Blaise had retreated to her bedroom, the office was an open invitation and she didn't particularly want to talk to either McManus brother at the moment.

Connor didn't care. He pushed the door open and leaned against the frame.

Blaise was sitting on her bed, hands folded in her lap, leaning against the headboard with her feet stretched out.

"What are you doing?" Connor asked.

"I was praying." Blaise said. "But I'm done." She looked up at Connor, a frown of disappointment on her face. "Come in, shut the door and sit down." She told him firmly.

Connor did as he was told, sitting awkwardly on the edge of Blaise's bed.

"Why didn't you tell me about your father?" Blaise demanded.

"We didnae know until just now." Connor said carefully. "Otherwise, we would have."

Blaise frowned. "Am I in danger, Conn?" She asked, all the anger washing away to be replaced with genuine worry.

"I don't think so." Connor replied slowly.

"Are you?"

Connor sighed. "No more'n usual, I think."

Blaise moved from her spot to crawl across the bed and lean against Connor. He wrapped his arm around her carefully.

"How do you know who Il Duce is?" Connor asked after a moment.

"Da' was one of the cops who helped put 'im behind bars." Blaise explained. "But he didnae want to. He wanted to send him off, to help him escape, but Il Duce said no. He said that he would serve his time, that his family would be safer if he was behind bars."

Connor frowned. "Really?"

Blaise nodded. "Are you scared about all a' this?"

"No." Connor admitted.

"I'm sorry about Rocco."

"Me too."

"You're leaving me fer a while, aren't you?" Blaise asked.

"I think so."

Blaise sighed into Connor's bare chest and he ran his hand over her hair gently, holding her close. Things were moving too fast and in unexpected ways and neither of them were sure where things were going to land.

"Go take a shower, Conn." She said after a long moment, pulling away from him. "Things will be all right." She smiled and stood up. "Things are gonna get a lot more interesting around here, I think."