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Author's Note: Thanks to my beta-monkey MKOLO for all the help with this chapter. Trust me, guys it's way better now.
Nifty fact for the day: Molly is a term that mean effeminate or girly
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Connor awoke to a whirlwind of movement and swearing that could only be his brother. Shifting in the uncomfortable motel room chair, he stretched, grimacing at the misery in his leg. He had known it was coming, but that didn't make the dull ache throbbing from hip to ankle any less painful.
Glancing at the bed where Murphy had slept, he found it empty, only a dark smear of red on the pillow indicating that his twin had been there at all.
The sight of the dried blood against the white pillowcase made his stomach constrict. Blood was just blood, he knew, but his twin's blood was different, more precious, and seeing it spilled troubled him. He remembered how pale Murphy had been slumped in the bathtub the previous night, still and silent. His stomach gave another sickening lurch at the idea, making Connor blink at the intensity of the sensation.
Even when he had been shot, Murphy had been alert and coherent, cracking jokes through his apprehension and later, through his pain. His twin was always full of energy, the very definition of exuberance and Connor hoped he never again had to see his brother as vulnerable and helpless as Murphy had been last night.
Frowning as he was struck with the sudden urge to see his brother, to reassure himself that Murphy had made it safely through the night, Connor opened his eyes and saw his twin rooting through one of their black duffel bags across the room.
If it was possible, Murphy's injuries looked worse in the daylight, bruises livid, and scrapes standing out in dark contrast against his fair skin. He knew that as the bruises blossomed his twin would only look worse, becoming a mottled array of colors, before he looked better.
"Mornin'." Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck, and was given a distracted grunt in reply.
"What the fuck are ye doin'?"
Murphy didn't look up, but instead scowled into the bag before shoving it aside. "I can't fuckin' find it." He muttered.
"Find what?"
"Danae's bracelet. She fuckin' gave it ta me before we left and now I can't find it."
"Is it in yer pocket?" Connor asked through a yawn, and Murphy shook his head.
"That's the first place I looked. It's isn't fuckin' anywhere, I've been tearin' this place apart all morning." He stopped, sighing, "Fuck."
Getting to his feet, Connor gingerly flexed his leg, trying to work the ache out of his muscles. He limped over to his brother and gave him an amicable pat on the back.
"It'll be fine, Murph."
"Do ye think I lost it at the fuckin' warehouse?"
"Even if ye did, we can't fuckin' go back there, that place is probably crawling with cops already."
"I know. Fuck!" Murphy made an exasperated gesture with his hands before running them through his hair. "What the fuck am I goin' ta tell her?"
Connor shrugged "Tell her ye were getting' the shite kicked out o' ye and ye lost it."
"Real fuckin' helpful, Conn."
"I'm serious. Listen, maybe Smecker found it, I'm sure he would have picked it up if he did." Said Connor, grinning as his twin brightened.
"That's a good idea; I'll call him later and see."
"Of course it's a good idea. C'mere now and let me have a look at ye."
Obeying, Murphy straightened and submitted to Connor's inquisitive touch in a rare display of patience. Carefully, Connor probed the back of his brother's head, feeling Murphy jerk slightly as he ran two fingers over the lump there.
"Ow."
"Sorry." Connor muttered, still inspecting the wound, "How are ye feelin'?"
"Like my eejit brother is jammin' his fingers inta my fuckin' skull." The words were abrasive, but spoken around a smile. "What's the prognosis Doc?"
Carefully Connor moved to examine the black eye and finally the deep purple bruises marring the skin of his brother's throat. "Ye look like shit." He said quietly and his twin laughed.
"Is that your professional opinion?" Murphy said, eyebrows raised.
"It is, aye."
"Well, that's good then, because I fuckin' feel like shit."
Chuckling, Connor stepped away from his twin, satisfied that Murphy was all right.
"Let's get out o' here. I'll leave first and meet ye back at Danae's.
o()o
Murphy walked up to Danae's patio, grinning as he saw her curled up in one of her deck chairs, talking to his brother, nodding at something Connor was saying.
Slipping up to her and wrapping his arms around her from behind, he brushed a kiss against her hair. "Mornin', luv," He murmured and felt her stir, breathing an audible sigh of relief.
"You're back."
"Aye,"
"I'm glad you're both here." She said sounding so peaceful that Murphy hated knowing that he was going to have to take that away from her.
"Did ye stay up all night?"
She shifted slightly, leaning into his embrace, eyes still closed. "Nope."
"Are ye lyin'?" Connor asked, grinning.
"Maybe . . . a little." The words were separated by a jaw-splitting yawn. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but how did it go last night? "
"We're alive." Murphy said unthinkingly, and regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, feeling Danae stiffen in his arms.
From the other side of the patio he saw his brother roll his eyes skyward, and the meaning was clear.
Way ta go, ye fuckin' retard
"What's happened?" she asked, all traces of sleep gone from her voice, replaced by alarm.
"We're fine," he said, trying to recant his words, holding her tightly as she made an effort to turn around in her seat. "Just be still and listen ta me now."
"Murphy, what's wrong? Connor?"
Over her head, Murphy exchanged a resigned look with his brother and shrugged; it was now or never. "My gun jammed while we were there. I had ta do a bit o' scrappin', and got knocked around some."
He frowned at how still she had become, he could feel her breathing against him, her breaths suddenly coming too fast and too shallow. This was going all wrong; he was making it so much worse than it had to be.
"You're hurt." Her voice was barely a whisper and he felt her shoulders hitch in another uneven breath. "Is that why you sound different?"
There was no sense in lying to her now; she was going to see him eventually. "It is, aye. One o' them grabbed me by the throat and it's still a bit sore. Listen ta me now, it looks a lot worse than it really is . . ." he stopped as she turned around, eyes widening until they swallowed the rest of her face.
"Oh, my God." She choked out, pulling away to face him fully. "Oh, God."
Murphy wasn't sure who was more surprised when she rose out of the chair and gave Connor a swift, forceful blow to the arm.
"Ow!" His brother yelped, expression indignant as he rubbed the spot she had struck, "What the fuck?"
"You lied to me, you said everything was fine!"
"I didn't want ta worry ye." He protested.
Danae gave him an heated, disbelieving look and Murphy bit back a chuckle as his twin looked away, chagrined.
"T'was just a little fib."
Shaking her head with a sigh Danae muttered something to him that Murphy couldn't hear.
Whatever she had said provoked a hearty laugh from his twin, though, and Connor looked at her, eyes sparkling.
"Yeah, but can ye say it in German?"
Murphy extended a hand to give her a reassuring pat and was more than a little hurt when she flinched away, wrapping her arms around her body.
"I'm all right, Danae." He said softly. "I'm standin' here talkin' to ye aren't I?"
Danae didn't answer, but instead reached out to touch him, pausing at the last moment, her hands trembling.
"Go on." He encouraged. "I'm not goin' ta break."
Feather light touches whispered around his eyes, down to his bruised jaw before finally caressing across his lip, sending an unexpected jolt through him. Her touch was too light to hurt, but just enough to send blood rushing to places it shouldn't be, especially not in public. Dimly he was aware of his brother slipping by them and into the apartment.
"Where else are you hurt?" she asked, and he hated the tears that he could hear in her voice, and see brimming in her eyes.
"The back of my head, and where that fellow grabbed me by the neck."
Her gaze never left his face, that keen searching look burning in her eyes, as she ran a finger lightly around the collar of his turtleneck. Reaching up, he tugged the collar down, not missing her sympathetic wince as the bruises were revealed.
Barely touching him, she traced the purpled outline of each of the gangmember's fingers along his throat, as though the gentleness of her caress could somehow counteract the harshness of his injuries. Murphy didn't understand exactly what she was doing, but he understood perfectly what it was doing to him as his body responded to her fingers across his skin.
Reaching, he caught her hands, shifting slightly to relieve the pressure that her touch had fostered. "Don't start somethin' ye can't finish, luv." He murmured into her ear, smiling down at her and raising his eyebrows.
Danae didn't reply, but instead freed her hands and gave him a look that effectively killed his line of thought, distant, and heartrending.
"S'all right," he said softly, wishing he knew what was running through her mind. "I'm right here."
He flinched when she eased her fingers into his hair, grazing the lump on the back of his head and she jumped, withdrawing her hand.
"I'm sorry." She gasped, "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Ye didn't. It's just a little tender yet."
Swallowing, she nodded, swiping under her eyes and not making another move to touch him.
The sound of the patio door opening drew both their attentions and Murphy saw Connor standing there, a beer in each hand.
Crossing her arms across her chest, cupping her elbows, Danae took another step away from Murphy and nodded toward his brother.
"What about you, any damage?" she asked quietly.
"Aside from some fuckin' crazy woman sluggin' me in the arm, I'm fine." He said, smiling at her as he offered Murphy the unopened bottle of beer. "Don't let Murph fool ye, Danae. He's not as molly as he looks."
"Oh fuck, ye." Murphy replied, reaching out to swat at his twin before taking the bottle from him. "I don't remember ye lending hand when that bastard had me pinned ta the wall by me fuckin' neck."
"Well if ye could handle yer fuckin' gun I wouldn't have had ta . . . Danae, what's wrong?"
Murphy followed his brother's line of sight and saw Danae backed into the corner of the patio, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Connor slipped an arm around her shoulders and he mirrored the act on the other side. "What's goin' on luv?" he asked her gently.
Danae wiped at the tears on her face and tried to force a smile, which abruptly turned into a quiet sob.
Frowning, Murphy shared a swift glance with his brother and Connor gave Danae a gentle push toward Murphy's arms, brow furrowing when she resisted, more tears falling.
Wounded, Murphy looked at her, trying to suss out what was wrong, and then he noticed the black circles under her eyes and wondered how long it had been since she had slept. One thing he had picked up from his Ma, Aunts, and many female cousins was that the more exhausted a woman got, the more emotional she became.
"C'mon, luv, yer so fuckin' tired ye can't even see straight." He said, reaching out and taking her hand, running his thumbs across her knuckles. "Let's get ye ta bed, now."
She hesitated and he gave her hand a gentle tug. "C'mon, everything's all right."
Finally, she obeyed. Connor gave her hair a sympathetic ruffle, and Murphy led her into the apartment then to her bedroom.
Eyes still troubled, she curled around her pillow, sighing.
Murphy sat next to her, running a hand down her side before moving to untie his boots. "How 'bout a little company for a while?" he asked, pleased when a ghost of a smile curved her lips.
"You're doing it again." She murmured.
"Doin' what, luv?"
"Making everything seem okay."
"That's because everything is okay." He said, kicking his boots off and coming to stretch out behind her, wrapping his arm around her middle. "Now go ta sleep."
Cradling her body against his, Murphy listened as her breaths became slow and even, the sound softer and lighter than his brother's breathing. Absently he toyed with her fingers, his own eyes growing heavy.
A shadow in the doorway drew his attention and looking up he saw his brother standing there.
"She okay?" Connor asked, inclining his head toward Danae.
"I think so, aye. She'll feel better after some sleep." Replied Murphy, yawning.
"Looks like ye could use a bit o' rest yerself."
"I can't believe I'm so fuckin' tired after sleepin' all night."
His twin chuckled, "Have a kip, I'm goin' ta go see what's on TV."
"Wake me in an hour or so, would ye?"
Connor nodded then disappeared out of the room. Murphy shifted slightly, pulling Danae closer to him and pressing a kiss against her shoulder.
"Sleep well." He murmured and smiled as she nodded sleepily, cuddling closer to him.
"Thank you." She whispered and Murphy chuckled shaking his head.
"You and yer fuckin' etiquette."
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