Sophia. This was Sophia. Somehow she found that one thought impossible to grasp, no matter how many times she repeated it in her head. Even with the woman standing there, head tilted somewhat with an amused smile on her face, it was almost impossible to believe.
"You're Sophia," Gwen said, finally getting her voice back, albeit the initial shock continued to linger.
"Yes," the woman answered, crossing her arms across her chest and rubbing her arms. Gwen realized she had to be freezing.
"But…. How…? What…? Who…?" The questions issued forth without her being able to finish them, and finally Gwen had to rub a hand over her face and squeeze her eyes shut. Sighing, she tried again. "How did all of this happen?"
Salem tilted her head somewhat, eyeing Gwen impassively. "I'm sorry, I'm but I'm busy tonight. Perhaps another time." With a smirk, she slid the dart gun into her purse and turned to go.
"Wait!" Gwen cried, following after her. "You can't just leave!"
A light laugh parted from Salem's lips, her smile thoroughly entertained. "I'm afraid I have to. Don't worry, though. I'll be back." She winked at her, slinging the strap of her black purse over her shoulder as she clicked her way down the street.
"Gwen? Gwen!"
The sound of her name being called diverted Gwen's attention from Salem's retreating back, and the realization that she had taken long past five minutes hit her just about the same time she figured out it was Murphy calling her name. "Murphy, Connor!" she shouted back, eyes widening as she turned and stepped further out onto the sidewalk to search them out.
"Gwen!"
It was Connor this time, and Gwen finally managed to spot the two brother's silhouettes making their way quickly down the street. "Hey! It's alright, I'm fine!" she called, waving a hand to catch their attention. The pair of them was beside her in a matter of seconds.
"Where the fuck have ya been?" Murphy asked, resting a hand on either of her shoulders and scanning her face.
"And who the fuck is that?"
At Connor's question, Murphy released his hold on Gwen and followed his brother's gaze to the limp body half hidden in the shadows next to the building's wall. Gwen didn't answer; she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts and hardly even heard the question as she tried to find the retreating form of the woman she had been talking to. Of course, she had already disappeared, causing Gwen to sigh.
"What the fuck happened?" Murphy asked, and when Gwen still didn't answer he grabbed her shoulder, shaking her lightly. It was enough to bring her out of the trance-like stare.
"What?" she asked, blinking and looking from Murphy's scowl to Connor's frown. "Oh, I don't think he's dead. He got shot with a dart."
"What?!?!" The question was exclaimed by both brothers at the exact same time.
"Let's get back to the apartment; I'll explain on the way."
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The walk back to the apartment actually had very little explanations. Gwen's head was swimming with possibilities, and it was beginning to get difficult to sort through her thoughts. Connor and Murphy were patient and didn't nag at her as they arrived back at the apartment, but once they were inside, they both removed their jackets and then sat side by side at the kitchen table, staring at her. Gwen knew they expected her to sit with them, and so, after taking off her own coat, she sank uneasily into one of the empty chairs around the table.
"I hardly know where to start," she said when neither of them spoke. Murphy sighed and got up from the table, making his way to the fridge where he pulled out three beers. As he returned and set one down in front of each of them, Connor lit up two cigarettes, passing one to his brother as he sat down. Gwen watched them take a few puffs before breaking down. "Can I have one?" she asked, paying much more attention to the task of popping open her beer than was needed.
"You smoke, Angel?" Murphy asked, looking surprised.
"Sometimes," she admitted as Connor lit one up and handed it over. She took a few puffs, breathing deeply and trying to still her flying mind. "I was attacked again." The four simple words caused the twins to exchange dark glances, but both remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"He asked me about the package, again, and had a knife to the back of my neck." She watched both boys stiffen noticeably. Now was where the tricky part began. Gwen didn't know how to explain Salem and what had happened; hell, she hardly understood it herself.
"How did ya get him on the ground, Angel?" Murphy asked softly, and she blinked, suddenly aware of how acutely he and his brother were staring at her.
"Oh, I didn't. He just suddenly fell over, and there was this woman. She shot him with a dart gun."
It was clear by the looks on both of their faces that they almost didn't believe her. Murphy's face smoothed out in utter shock, his lips parting somewhat in surprise; Connor's face, on the other hand, scrunched up, a frown puckering his lips and furrowing his brow.
"She said she was Sophia-"
"Wait, Sophia? The one-"
"Yes," Gwen interrupted Connor, flicking ash into one of the trays. "I don't know anything else, though, she left right before you got there."
"You didn't ask her anythin'? Anythin' about what's been happenin'?" Murphy asked, sounding shocked.
"I didn't have time! She just left- said something about being busy. She was dressed in an evening gown-"
"So, a woman dressed in an evening gown with a dart gun just saved your life and left?" Connor asked, scratching his ear and frowning.
"Yes, basically," Gwen confirmed snippily, tilting her chin up defiantly. She was tired of feeling like a kid being forced to explain everything to her parents. "Look, she said she'd be back, but other than that I don't know jack, alright?" It wasn't her intent to snap at them, but from their taken aback looks she realized her tone must have been much more singeing than she had meant it. The whole thing made her even more frustrated.
"Well," Murphy began slowly after the terse silence, "at least we know there really is a Sophia."
"Blagh, how does that manage to open up a whole new can of questions?!" Gwen muttered, her tone full of exasperation as she rested her forehead on top of her folded hands resting on the table.
"It'll be alright, Gwennie. We can figure it out," Connor said gently, crushing his empty beer can and chucking it in the can behind him.
"You can bet your ass we will," Murphy affirmed, tapping his forefinger on the table top with force. Despite the frustration and utter vexation of the entire situation, Gwen couldn't help but crack a smile.
She heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over her face and blinking hard in an attempt to refresh her mind. "We should probably tell Da and Smecker about this- about Sophia. Maybe Smecker can find more information on her. Oh!" Gwen's features brightened. "She said her name is Salem- her real name is Salem."
"Salem?" Connor repeated unfamiliarly, like he was tasting the new name.
"Yeah. I guess Sophia was just the name she gave to the mafia," Gwen said, shrugging.
"Aye, makes sense," Murphy agreed with a nod, putting out his cigarette in the ash tray.
"Maybe Smecker can find somethin' on her, 's'well," Connor put in, itching at his forehead with the thumb of the hand holding his cigarette.
"That's what I was thinking." Gwen nodded, watching as Connor slowly leaned forward to put out his own cigarette out. She still had a few puffs left in hers, and after flicking the ash off the end, she took a quick drag. "Did Da go to bed already?"
"Aye," Connor said with a quick nod. "Early ta bed, early ta rise, all that shit." He waved his hand around vaguely. "I think," he added, standing up and stretching, "I'll do the same."
It seemed like the signal for everyone to get moving. Gwen snuffed her cigarette out, and Murphy threw their empty beer cans away. Connor and his brother exchanged a few words before the former shuffled out into the hallway leading to the twins' bedroom. That left Murphy standing next to the couch, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as he glanced over at Gwen.
"D'ya mind if I stay up with ya a bit, Angel?" he asked with a boyish grin. "I'm not exactly tired."
"Not really. I'm not tired either," Gwen answered, moving over to stand next to him. "Just lemme go shower and brush my teeth. Try and find something on TV we can watch." Smiling, she moved over to her suitcases, grabbed her pajamas and toothbrush, and disappeared down the hall.
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Gwen emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later, her hair only slightly damp after a rigorous towling (she didn't want to risk waking anyone with the noisy howl of the hair dryer). She felt clean and much more at ease, as though the hot water had done more than just wash away the day's dirt. Although there were many questions still simmering beneath the layer of content, her mind was no longer flying away at a hundred miles a minute.
Clothes gathered up in her arms, Gwen entered the living room to find Murphy sprawled lazily on the couch, watching some cheesy McDonalds add flash across the television. He looked up as she made her way over to her suitcase and grinned.
"'Bout fuckin' time ya finish," he complained good-naturedly; Gwen nevertheless narrowed her eyes, her own irritation about as genuine (or not) as his.
"Thirty minutes for a girl to shower, dry her hair, and brush her teeth is not that long, you know. Especially since I stood under the hot water for a few minutes." She raised her eyebrows coolly, depositing her clothes from the day in the bag she used as a laundry basket before joining Murphy on the couch. "I hope it was long enough to find something good on TV." She produced a comb with criss-cross bristles and began working it through her semi-wet hair, removing stubborn tangles and such. Murphy watched her for a few minutes as though such an act was very peculiar before he shook his head.
"Nothin' but info-mercials and other boring shit on," he said, standing up and moving into the kitchen. Gwen twisted her neck to watch him, figuring he meant to grab a beer and probably light up another cigarette; such a thing seemed to be a very frequent habit amongst the MacManus men. He surprised her by opening a cabinet instead, pulling out a half-full bottle of whiskey.
"There's got to be at least one stupid movie on," Gwen commented, turning back to face the TV as she snatched up the remote and began flipping channels.
"Well there's nothin' that a little bit o'whiskey can't make interestin', aye?" he said, plopping back down on his end of the couch with a rogue (and very Irish) grin.
"Really Murphy?" Gwen queried, the question more an accusation. When he continued to look at her with that "Yeah, so what?" sort of expression, Gwen heaved a sigh, turning her eyes back to the screen as she continued channel surfing. "You would want to get drunk just because there's nothing else to do," she commented with wry amusement. Her statement elicited a very pleased grin from Murphy, who shrugged off any hint of insult her words might have carried.
"Makes everythin' that much more interestin', Angel."
"Pah, you probably have ulterior motives," Gwen muttered back, completely teasing.
"Ulterior motives?" Murphy repeated, sounding as though he didn't quite get her point. It casued Gwen to snicker a bit, shaking her head as she continued watching the screen switch stations.
"Taking advantage of an intoxicated individual could be considered an ulterior motive," she elaborated, grinning.
"I'm a fucking Saint, I don't have ulterior motives."
Gwen shook her head. "You're also a guy," she pointed out, finding a station airing Grease. "Haha! A movie." A smug smile tugged at her lips as she turned to give Murphy a haughty look.
"What's that supposed ta mean?" he asked, causing Gwen's smirk to flip into a scowl.
"It means there's a movie on, genius," she said sarcastically, and Murphy matched her expression. "Heh, nothing, Murph, I was just joking."
"Riiight," Murphy responded dryly. Gwen shook her head, turning her attention to the TV screen as Murphy poured more than a shot's worth of whiskey into his mouth. This brought her attention back to the Irishman, and she gaped at him a moment, looking shocked.
"Jesus Christ, you're not playing around, are you?"
"What?" Murphy asked, sounding confused.
"Do you even have a liver?"
"Ya want some?" He offered her the bottle. Gwen took it, staring at the label for a minute with an unenthusiastic expression. Then, shrugging, she lifted it to her lips and took a small sip, the liquor instantly burning her throat as it slid into her stomach; she couldn't help but make a face, her nose wrinkling as she swallowed several times to try and get the taste out of her mouth.
"Ugh, no wonder I don't drink whiskey," she muttered, handing him back the bottle.
"Some bartender you are, Angel," Murphy laughed. Feeling snubbed, Gwen flushed a bit and scowled at him indignantly, her wounded pride only making Murphy laugh some more. Straightening haughtily, Gwen turned back to the TV and crossed her arms across her chest, ignoring the large grin on Murphy's face. Finally she broke down, a small smile tugging at her lips as she turned to look at him.
"Oh shut up."
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((Again, waaaay too long between updates. The last few weeks of school were MURDER. But now I'm out on Summer vacation, so I should be able to update more. I finally got past a nasty case of writer's block in a later part of the story, but I need to pull some loose ends together and add some spice. At any rate, I hope this chapter is satisfactory. I don't like it much myself, I think it's a bit dry, but I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer. As a side note, I don't know why Gwen doesn't like whiskey. It happens to be my favorite liquor, and I encourage all you alcohol drinkers to try a Crown and Coke with a splash of Grenadine. LoL, thanks for all the fantastic reviews, by the way. Any helpful hints or suggestions are most welcome. I'm desperately trying to work Da in more, so if you have a good notion how I can do so, message me! Chocolate kisses to you all!))