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Author's Note: Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed so far, I appreciate it so much! Your nifty fact for the day, Sláinte (pronounced Slahn-cha) is an Irish toast, it's used in place of 'cheers' and literally means heath.
o(5)o
Connor awoke to the sound of his brother's laughter. He was sore and groggy, but not half as bad as he expected to be. The sound of Murphy's laugh sliced through the fog in his head and made him smile. How long had it been since he had heard Murphy really laugh? Connor couldn't remember.
"And so the kid says 'Well I got a fuck for a duck, a duck for a fuck and twenty bucks for a fucked up duck!" That was Danae; giggling so hard, she could barely spit out the punch line.
Opening his eyes, Connor saw the two of them sitting in hospital chairs across from one another, leaning over a dimestore chess set, foreheads almost touching.
"Christ," Murphy said, rolling his eyes, "Yer jokes are as bad as yer coffee."
"Oh, no," Danae laughed, "my jokes are worse than my coffee could ever be. Wait until I tell you the one about the pirate."
Chuckling, Murphy looked up from the chess pieces and met Danae's eyes. They stared at each other, sobering, their laughter dying away. Danae bit her lip and slowly Murphy leaned forward, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand.
Clearing his throat loudly, Connor grinned when the two of them sprang apart, looking anywhere but at each other. He was sure that he should have felt guilty for doing such a thing to his twin, but he didn't. Pay back for Jenny O'Reilly in their 9th grade year, he told himself.
Murphy grinned at his brother. "It's about fuckin' time ye woke up, we've been waitin' all day."
"How are you feeling?" Danae offered him a broad smile.
"Pretty good all things conciderin'" Connor shifted uncomfortably and pulled a kidney shaped plastic pan out from behind his back. "What the fuck is this then?"
Danae made a face, "It's an emesis basin. In case you . . . well . . ." she made a helpless gesture with her hands.
Murphy snorted and gave her a teasing glance "For workin' in the ER, luv, yer mighty squeamish. It's a gawk bucket, Conn. The doctor said the stuff they used ta knock ye out might make ye queasy."
"Ah." Connor said setting pan aside, "Actually, I don't feel sick at all. I'm fuckin' starving."
Shooting Danae a look as if to say 'I told you so' Murphy grinned, "I was hopin' ye'd say that."
Connor raised his eyebrows in question and Danae supplied the answer, "I promised that if you were feeling up to it, I'd smuggle in pizza to celebrate."
"Pizza sounds good." Said Connor, "No, pizza sounds fuckin' great."
Danae laughed, "I'll go and place the order."
o()o
When she returned, Danae had not only two large pizzas but also a six-pack of Guinness.
"I think I love you." Connor said popping the top on his beer and tossing a can to his brother.
Danae laughed delightedly and Murphy smiled across the room at her. "Can I open ye a can Danae?" he asked.
She shook her head, reaching into her coat pocket and producing a bottle of water. "Thanks though."
Connor and Murphy looked at each other, aghast, "Water with pizza? That's disgustin'." Connor said.
"Ye don't drink?" Murphy asked.
She looked away, "Not really." Seeing Murphy's frown, she offered him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Think of it this way, if I don't drink any, there's more for the two of you."
Connor grinned, "Ye have a point there."
"Aye, ye do." Murphy said, still watching her.
"What kind of pizza did ye get?" Connor asked, opening one of the boxes. "Ah, pepperoni and . . ." he peeked in the other one, ". . . cheese. Perfect."
Murphy plucked a slice out of the box and took a bite, "Nicely done." he said through his mouthful.
"I'd like to propose a toast." Danae said, this time giving both brothers a genuine smile. "We are celebrating after all."
"All right," said Connor raising his beer "what are we toasting to?"
"To coming through surgery with an appetite," Murphy suggested, laughing as he dodged his twin's hand.
"Ye can't fuckin' toast to that!"
"Of course ye can, that's what we're celebrating, innit?"
"Here's to coming through surgery, then." Danae said raising her water bottle and the brothers raised their beers in answer.
"Sláinte." She said and laughed at the identical looks of disbelief that turned her way.
"Where the fuck did ye learn that?" Murphy asked incredulously making her laugh even harder.
"Sláinte." Connor said shaking his head as he tapped his beer can against his brother's then against Danae's water bottle.
"Sláinte." Murphy said, mirroring his brother's action, "But I still want to know where ye picked that one up, Danae."
o()o
Stuffed with pizza and beer, leaning over a game of chess with Murphy, Connor was certain that this was the most content he had been in months. It was odd to think that he could be so comfortable straight out of surgery, after being shot, but he was.
He was safe here, and so was Murph. In this hospital room, they didn't have to be the Saints; they didn't have a job that could very easily get them killed, and someday probably would. In this hospital room, they could laugh, and joke, and sleep at night. They could just be themselves.
Danae had sprawled over one of the chairs, kicked her shoes into a corner, and dozed off with her head propped up on her hand. At first she had smiled sleepily at the sound of their laughter and banter, but now she slept soundly.
Connor noticed that every so often, Murphy's eyes strayed away from his chess pieces over to where she was.
"Checkmate." He said, moving his bishop in for the kill.
Murphy examined the board for a moment, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "I think yer right."
"Of course I'm fuckin' right. I've beaten ye the last two games haven't I?"
Groaning, Murphy stretched, cocking his head from side to side and rolling his shoulders.
"Come on," he said, "I need a smoke."
Connor nodded "I was thinkin' the same thing."
Wincing as he slid out of the bed, he let Murphy slip an arm around his waist, supporting him, and together they hobbled out to the courtyard.
Murphy reached into his pocket, pulling out two cigarettes as Connor gingerly sat on a concrete bench nearby.
"Ye know," Murphy said, lighting the cigarettes and offering one to Connor "I sat out here for fuckin' hours the night ye got shot. It felt like my arse was part of that bench I was out here so long."
Connor nodded, taking a thoughtful drag off of his cigarette.
"Is this how it's always going to be?" Murphy asked suddenly, and Connor was taken aback at the emotion in his brother's voice.
"What do ye mean?"
"I mean are we just going ta keep this up until one time the doctor can't get yer fuckin' heart started again? Are we going ta keep going until one, or the both o' us end up dead?"
"Come on, Murph, it isn't like that." Connor said, not wanting to admit that he had been thinking the exact same thing not five minutes earlier.
"It's fuckin' just like that." His twin began to pace, "Someday this is going ta get us killed . . .and . . ." he stopped, shoulder slumping, "And I don't want that ta happen. Fuck, Conn, I don't want ta keep pushing fate until someday it decides ta push back and I'm alone."
The memory of his dream surfaced like a rotten corpse out of water and an unnamable feeling shuddered through Connor.
Sobbing, he reached out to his fallen brother, dragging himself to where Murphy lay sprawled in a spreading pool of crimson . . .
They had kept going after Rocco was killed, but how could they keep going when 'they' turned into 'he'?
He knew just where to aim and he knew that his twin would be waiting for him when it was all over.
"C'mere." Connor slung an arm around his brother, taking comfort in the warmth of Murphy's body next to his. He wasn't on that concrete floor, he was there and real and safe. They were going to be fine.
Murph leaned against him and sighed, "Do ye ever think about stopping, about just going back ta living our lives?"
"Sometimes." Connor admitted, "But we're doing good here, real good and it's worth it."
Nodding, Murphy took another drag off of his cigarette.
"Ye want ta tell me what the fuck brought this on?"
His brother shrugged, avoiding his eyes.
"Let's go back in then," Connor said gently, flicking away the last of his cigarette and slowly getting to his feet, "there's still a beer each waiting for us."
"Thanks Connor." Said Murpy as he offered his brother a steadying arm.
Connor grinned "Gotta look out for my little brother."
"We don't fuckin' know that yer older. "Muphy gave him an indignant look
"I know it, and that's all that matters. Come on, now, before Danae wakes up and thinks we've abandoned her."
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