Murphy awoke to the soft rise and fall of Ciara's steady breathing.  Her weight on his arm was sweet.  He didn't move for fear of waking her.  Her fragrant curls cascaded across his shoulder like a sunset-tinted waterfall, soft against his skin. 

Over the smooth curve of her cheek he could see Connor and Kiley curled up.  After his eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the early dawn light, he could see that Connor was awake, and smiling at him.  Murphy returned the smile, his eyes sparkling a deep azure. 

Despite similarities inherent in most twins, he was beginning to realize just how different they were from one another.  Connor had laughter lines framing his eyes, which shone ice-blue.  He was slightly taller, and the weight of his years sometimes seemed heavy on his shoulders.  Murphy seemed carefree and youthful in comparison, as though God had wanted both faces in the MacManus children.  It had always seemed to Murphy that Connor and himself were the same.  Being with the women had taught him different.   He watched as his brother slid his arm carefully from beneath Kiley's head and buttoned his fly.  Kiley didn't stir as Connor did so.  Before he knew it, Connor had left the room, boots and belt in hand. 

Murphy breathed the scent of Ciara's hair contentedly, then moved her off his arm as well, following his brother from the room.  Smecker was waiting on the couch for them, a bemused expression on his face as he tried to hide behind a copy of the Boston Herald.  On the front page was a picture of Brighid's body, no longer covered up.  Murphy seated himself on the couch, trying not to look.  Connor stared for a moment, a sharp, hissing breath drawn through his teeth breaking the silence.  "It's not too pleasant," Smecker mused quietly.

"I wonder what really happened there," their father said, his tone of voice subdued.

"I could tell you, but you'd have to swear not to tell Kiley you know," a fourth voice added to the conversation.  Ciara was smoothing her unruly hair back into a braid with surprisingly clever hands.  She looked delightfully disheveled. 

With one smooth movement, she sank to the floor, drawing her knees once again to her chest.  With an angry tremor in her voice, she described the rape of their cousin, Kiley's bound wrists, and the attack.  When she got to the part where she had tried to stop the bullet, her shoulders trembled violently, and her head sank to her knees.  Connor suspected she was hiding her tears.  "There was no avoiding it.  Someone 'ad to die, and I dinna wan' to be the one in the bodybag."  The justification.  Connor remembered the first time they had killed in vengeance.  Memories of their friend David Della Rocco in his last moments flooded his mind's eye; the horror of his friend's blood spattering across his cheek, Murphy fighting his way over to Rocco, still chained to the chair…He knew well what the girls must have been feeling in their encounter, the tension and adrenaline bleeding together in a slate shade of gray.  Even as Murphy sat beside him, numb and tense, Connor knew his brother had feelings for this woman.  And that his grief for Brighid was most likely ten times worse.  They had played together all the time, while Connor, as his serious self, had spent his time in prayer.

He could remember sitting in his father's lap, quietly reciting verses from the Bible while his brother eyed the barrel of Da's gun.  Murphy had always been the doer, as Kiley had mentioned the night before.  He could still remember when they had left Ireland behind them to follow in the footsteps of their father, Brighid and company standing at the train station, wanting to see them off.  Ciara had seemed so carefree, so feminine and pretty.  Kiley had no strength to hide her tears then, and Brighid, sweet like the virgin schoolgirl she was, light tears on her lashes, blue-green eyes shining with sadness as they climbed aboard and left their childhood behind…He bit back his own grief as he watched Ciara disappear into the kitchen.  What had they done, leaving the girls alone in the apartment?  Guilt overwhelmed him.  They should have split up.  Someone should have stayed to watch over them.  But that wasn't their way.

"Connor?  Ya a'right?" Murphy asked his brother, hand gripping his arm. 

"I'll be fine.  Go see to Ciara," he ordered.  Connor watched his brother chase Ciara into the next room.  The feeling that the ordeal had been his fault cut him like the edge of a sharp knife in his gut. 

Ciara prepared breakfast for the group while she struggled to control her rage.  She had her back to the living room, shifting ingredients for omelettes around on the counter.  She chided herself as a teardrop landed in the empty bowl she would use to make biscuits in.  "I'm stronger than this," she growled to herself under her breath.

"Even I cry," a soft voice assured her, strong arms dragging her into an embrace from behind.  The warmth of Murphy's breath hung in her hair as his unshaven cheek tickled her own smooth one.  "Ya counna done more than ya did," he told her, turning her to face him. She stared at his bare feet, toe to toe with her own.  His hand forced her chin up until she was meeting his eyes.  "No one blames ya."

"I blame myself.  I shoulda been on my guard, like I a'ways am," she said sulkily. 

"No one's perfect.  Let me tell ya somethin', Ci.  I did me best to save a friend o' mine, but he died anyhow.  I try not to talk about it, it makes Connor act strange.  That's why Connor dinna wan't you two ta join us, even if he dinna say so.  The last person who helped us died."

"I don't fear death," Ciara said, suddenly hard. Her eyes tensed into emerald flint.

"No, but it would…" Murphy trailed off, suddenly very intent on his hands.

"Would what?"

"It would wound me like a knife."  She was suddenly caught in the sapphire intensity of his eyes.  He held her there with his eyes alone, breathless.  Neither one moved for a long moment. That was, until Kiley burst into the room. 

"Thought I'd 'elp wi' the biscuits," she explained, hiding her embarrassment at discovering them there. Ciara nodded, a smirk crossing her lips as she winked at Murphy. 
"Get out o'ere then, let us cook!"  She ushered him out into the living room, where he stared at her with schoolboy longing from the next room. She tried to hide the smile spreading across her features as Kiley glanced over at her.  Both became aware of eyes on their backs as they moved about their business.

"D'ya think we did the righ' thing, stayin' 'ere?" Kiley whispered.

"Have ya seen Connor smile?  An' all we'd 'ave back home to deal wi' is the mournin' of a family for their kin."  Connor would be enough to make her stay.  Kiley had had a crush on Connor since she had first lay eyes on him.  They had been three years old at the time.  Ciara, though still a toddler, could remember the meeting as vividly as if it were yesterday.  Kiley had said she would marry that boy.  And it seemed that time had done nothing to change her mind. 

Pulling the biscuits from the oven, Kiley straightened and set them on the table.  Ciara had set the dining room table like she had done when they lived with their mother, every plate and fork in its place. 

She finally realized that her wound was burning.  Medical training had become a handy study for her overnight.  She was glad she had taken the classes.  Sitting down, she tore through the gauze wrap and began to take stock of her injury.  The others filed in for breakfast, seating themselves at the table.  "I don' like the idea, leavin' these two alone as bait," Connor's soft bass argued as he entered the kitchen. 

"It's the best idea we've got to work with," Smecker replied, doing his best to sate Connor's worry. 

"They'll be fine," their father assured.  Murphy kept his mouth closed, though it was drawn out at the corners. He wanted to say something, but he knew it would do them little good to bicker.  Connor glanced over at his twin, seeking help, but he found none.  Murphy was staring out the back screen door at Ciara. 

"Ci is trained in martial arts an' hand ta hand.  She c'n take care of herself," Kiley stated.  "An' I am handy with a gun.  We'll be okay."  She dug her fingers into Connor's tense shoulders, continuing as he arched his back in pleasure.  "Now eat."  Connor had never denied an Irishwoman's orders when it came to matters of the household.  The girls were excellent cooks, and the men quickly cleared the table with their appetites.  Ciara still hadn't come inside. 

"Ciara, aren't ya goin' ta eat somethin'?" Papa MacManus beckoned her.

"I'll be fine, no worries."  Her voice seemed withdrawn, as though she were deep in thought. 

"Ci, git in here!" Kiley called.  Ciara shook her head.  "Come on, Ci, we're planning!"  Ciara slowly got to her feet, clutching her arm.  Murphy could see from beneath her hand that the wound on her arm was bleeding afresh.  She said nothing as she seated herself next to him and looked down at the tablecloth. 

"I think we should put ya right where they found ya," Il Duce said.  "Ya know they'll be back to collect what they left.  It'll be a good opportunity." 

"One of us should wait with 'em." Connor said.

"We'll watch from closed-circuit camera.  As soon as we think things are out of control, we'll come in to back the ladies up."  Smecker smiled reassuringly.

"Ciara?" Kiley asked.  She seemed to be a little lost. 

"Sounds fine," she said weakly, managing a smile.  "I need ta go ta church."

"We need ta get arms anyhow," Murphy replied.  Connor nodded.  Church was a regular stop on their outings. 

"Why don' the four o' yeh go get ready, then.  Smecker an' I will go back to the apartment an' rig the video."  Connor nodded again.  Murphy wondered what had gotten into his brother.  Connor was always the first to come up with an idea.  He was the first to put it into motion.  Even after his father's orders had slipped in one ear and out the other.  Something was wrong.  There was a feeling of intensity in the room that Murphy was certain stemmed from worry.  He glanced at Kiley.  She smiled and led Connor from the kitchen to get ready.  He seemed to perk up as soon as she laughed and cocked her head prettily.  She managed to keep her feminine edge no matter how she dressed.  Murphy admired that. 

"Ci, are ya feelin' a'right?"  She nodded slowly.  "Don' lie." 

"I'm fine," she said irritably.  Why is everyone a'ways so worried about me? I'll be fine."

"Take it easy, Darlin'," he exclaimed, taken aback by her animosity.  "If ya don' wanna talk, just say so."  Murphy waited a moment, then stomped out of the room.  Ciara watched him go with hard eyes.  If only he knew what she had figured out…She wanted to call him to come back, but she knew it was Murphy's way to have a good sulk before he would talk. 

"Kiley, you look scared," Connor whispered.

"Terrified."

"I was too, the first time I did this.  It'll be fine."  Kiley smiled.

"I believe ya," she replied, smiling more broadly as he pulled her closer to him and sighed.  "I'll be fine.  I'm not sure Ci'll be, though."  Connor nodded slowly.  She looked up at him again, lake-blue eyes shining.  Connor bent over and kissed her gently, fingers twining through her hair as she returned the gesture.  God, her kiss burned his blood like fire through his veins. 

"Kiley?"

"Yes?" she asked, feeling him shake nervously as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. 

"I think I love ya."

"I think I love ya too, Dear."  Connor hugged her tightly for a moment, letting go as his brother burst, brooding, into the bedroom.

"Murph?" Connor asked.  His voice held his brother still.  Kiley took the hint and left the two alone.

"I don' know how to handle 'er," he grumbled.

"Ciara?"

"Aye.  She's about as readable as a blank book.  She won' tell me what's wrong."

"Sure she 'as a good reason, Murph.  Don' let it get ta ya. We have a job ta do.  Ya need ta 'ave a clear mind."  Murphy sank onto the bed, and Connor sat across from him.   "Seriously.  She'll tell ya when she's ready."

"Since when did you become a ladies' man, Connor?" Murphy raged.

"I dinna claim ta be."  Murphy shook his head.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't right."  Connor was used to these mood swings. 

"It's not yer fault.  I know how ya feel."  As the brothers stood, embracing one another, Kiley burst breathlessly through the door. 

"Sorry ta interrupt.  It's Ciara.  She's gone." Murphy rushed around the room, arming himself with his Magnum and pulling on his P-coat.  Kiley's brow furrowed with worry as she chased him from the room.  Wide-eyed, she gestured urgently to Connor, who grabbed her hand and ran after his brother.