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Authors Note: I can't make up my mind whether I like Murphy calling Danae 'luv' or not . . . is it out of character or over the top? What do you guys think?
Nifty fact for the day: Galya is Irish slang for a baby or young child.
o(6)o
It was during Connor's third week in the hospital when Danae missed her first visit. She had left the previous morning, playfully betting Murphy that he wouldn't be awake when she came that night. Murphy had made a point to stay awake, just to prove her wrong.
"Where do ye think she is?" He asked, fidgeting with an unlit cigarette.
"She's probably busy." Connor said patting his brother good-naturedly on the back. "She said they've been getting a lot o' people coming through the ER lately.
"Aye," Murphy said, refusing to be disappointed, she would have owed him breakfast too. "She'll be by in the mornin'."
When she didn't show up for the second time that day, Murphy knew something was amiss. "I'm going ta look fer her." He said shrugging into his jacket.
"Murph," Connor began, but Murphy wouldn't hear it.
"No. Ye don't understand. She's been here every step of the way, she's always fuckin' been here. Something's wrong."
"Fine." Connor said exasperatedly, reaching for his crutches, "We'll go ta the emergency room and talk ta her. At least then I can tell her what an idiot ye are."
They found the emergency room to be unusually chaotic and Danae was nowhere to be found, the morning registrar said she had come in to an empty desk and no explanation, something that had never happened with Danae.
"Maybe she's left already." Connor said, but it was an empty statement. He was beginning to agree with his brother's suspicion that something was wrong.
"Let's have a look for her outside, are ye up to the walk?"
"Aye, Let's go."
They heard Danae crying well before they saw her. Following the sound, Connor and Murphy found her huddled in secluded doorway, arms covering her head, sobbing.
There was blood all over her, coating her from fingertip to elbow and spattering her khaki pants. Murphy was by her side at once but she pushed him away with a cry of grief, leaving bloody handprints on his gray t-shirt.
"Danae, what the fuck . . ." When she didn't answer he shook her gently "Danae!"
She looked up and Murphy was bewildered at the raw anguish in her eyes. There was blood smeared across her face and he could tell there was some in her hair. She started to raise a trembling hand to her mouth, but saw the gore there and dropped it to her side, new sobs tearing through her.
"Jesus, fuckin' Christ, who did this to ye?" Murphy had gone still; dangerously calm and over Danae's head, the brothers exchanged a long glance.
Once this is over, and we're out of this hospital, the motherfucker that hurt her is the first to die.
Connor reached down, balancing precariously on his crutches. "Take a deep breath now, Danae. Where are ye hurt?"
Danae gasped in several breaths that were too shallow and too quick shaking her head. "No . . .it's not mine . . .she . . . Oh, God . . . I tried to start CPR, just until a nurse came, and there was so . . . much blood . . . she was hurt so bad . . . She couldn't have been . . . any more . . . than five. I watched her die . . . I held her while she died . . . I . . ." she swallowed, blanching. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick."
Murphy held her hair up, rubbing slow circles across her back with his palm and murmuring nonsense meant to soothe her. Finally, she sank back into the doorway pale and trembling, hunkering back into the corner as far away from the outside world as she could manage.
Looking up Murphy met his brother's gaze and Connor nodded once, answering Murphy's unspoken question.
"Come on, luv," he said quietly, slipping an arm around her waist and hoisting her onto her feet, more blood smearing over his clothing "let's get ye cleaned up."
The twins held a silent conversation the entire way to Connor's hospital room, communicating with glances, body language, and the uncanny bond they shared.
Murphy could sense Connor's outrage over what Danae had told them and wasn't surprised to feel the same twisting in his gut. His brother had always had a soft spot for kids, and Murphy knew that when they found the sick motherfucker that had done this, there was going to be hell to pay.
Once in the room, Connor eased himself into a chair and picked up the telephone, his face unreadable. Murphy led Danae into the bathroom, turning the shower on. "Strip." He told her, turning his back.
"I . . .I can't." she whispered "I'm sorry . . ."
Murphy turned around and saw that she was shivering violently, her entire body jerking with the force of it, there was no way she could undress herself in this condition. "I'll help ye." He said softly.
"What? No." she crossed her arms, looking at him apprehensively.
"Danae," murmured "yer gonna have ta trust me, now. Ye want to wash the blood off don't ye?"
Chewing her lip, she nodded, avoiding his eyes. Murphy could see there was bright crimson welling where she had bitten through her lip; gently he took her face in his hands, forcing her gaze to meet his.
"Then let me help ye, now."
Danae looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes and spilling over. He could see the pain in her eyes, the sorrow burning there. But as she stared at him, he could see something different, the same intensity that he had seen when she asked him about his scars. It was as if she were looking through him, and reading something that had been written on his soul.
"Danae," he repeated "Let me help ye."
Finally, she looked away and nodded. "I trust you."
Eyes carefully averted, Murphy helped her undress, unbuttoning her blouse, and releasing the clasp of her bra. Once she was nude, he pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her into the shower, still keeping his eyes anywhere but on her. "I'm goin' ta find something for ye ta wear. Are ye going to be okay here by yerself?"
"Yes. Thank you." Danae sighed the words more than she spoke them and Murphy felt another stab of pity for her.
He reached through the curtain and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, feeling her wet skin under his palm. "Everything will be all right."
She turned to face him, arms wrapped around her body, water and tears slipping down her face. "That's where you're wrong," she murmured, "Nothing will ever be all right. Not after this."
"It will be, luv, ye'll see."
Stepping out of the bathroom, he locked eyes with Connor. His brother's face was grim. "The whole fuckin' hospital is talkin' about this galya in the ER. Raped then stabbed ta death, she was four fuckin' years old."
Murphy sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Jesus fuckin' Christ."
"Someone just fuckin' dumped her at the emergency doors and fuckin' took off, they said that Danae was outside on break and found her lying out there, but by then it was too late."
"And she died in Danae's arms."
"Aye." Connor tilted his head slightly toward the closed bathroom door, "How's she holding up?"
"As well as can be expected, I guess. She's pretty upset." Murphy chewed thoughtfully on his thumbnail, "Why didn't anybody fuckin' go ta check on her afterwards? Doesn't anybody fuckin' care?"
Connor shot his brother a meaningful look, "They were preoccupied with the little girl and tryin' ta find her family."
"Have they found anybody?"
"The nurse I talked ta said not yet, but they're still tryin'"
Murphy nodded, "We'll leave that to them then. What matters now, is how are we going ta find the bastard that did this?"
o()o
Danae leaned against the cool tile of the shower, letting the water sluice over her as she stared blindly at the porcelain squares.
She was sure that her faith had mingled with the water that was swirling down the drain, never to be seen again. She'd meant what she'd said to Murphy, something inside of her had died with that little girl, and she was certain that nothing would ever be the same.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was back on the emergency room floor, a tiny body in her arms. The warmth of the little girl's blood pouring out over her hands as she tried to staunch the bleeding and the taste of it in her mouth as she tried desperately to breathe life back into that tiny body. Even after scrubbing her skin raw, she could still feel the sticky-slickness of drying blood. The child had still been alive when Danae had found her, maybe if she'd only been a little quicker . . .
Choking on a sob, Danae sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands. Who would do such a thing to a child?
"Danae?" she recognized Murphy's voice as he entered the bathroom, "Come on, luv, ye've run out o' hot water." His hand snaked through the shower curtain and turned the cascade off. "I grabbed ye some scrubs ta change inta, they're on the sink. Are ye all right to get dressed?"
"I think so." She said, rising to her feet, "Thank you."
"Yer welcome." He said softly, and she heard the door shut.
Stepping out of the shower, she reached for a towel, hoping that someday someone found the bastard that had hurt that little girl, and that there would be hell to pay.
Clad in clean clothes, all the gore scrubbed from her body and hair, Danae began to feel somewhat better. The horror of the day was rapidly fading into exhaustion, making her feel weak and slightly dizzy.
She was met with matching blue gazes as she stepped out of the bathroom and knew instantly that she had interrupted something very serious.
Danae stared at the twins, transfixed; these weren't the laughing, joking, MacManus brothers she knew. These men were cold, hard, and precise. These were men that got shot and had scars covering their bodies, not the men she had grown so fond of over the past three weeks. Unnerved she backed away.
Murphy stood quickly, breaking the spell as he offered her an earnest smile, "Have a seat with us, Danae.
"How are ye feeling?" Connor asked.
"Better, I think." She said cautiously, "I'm tired."
"Do ye want to go home?"
She shook her head, shuddering at the thought of being alone in her house, with nothing but memories and silence for company.
The twins exchanged a look, some silent question being asked and answered.
"Ye'll stay with us today then." Murphy said.
"I can't." Oh, but she wanted to. Danae's sense of propriety warred with her need for comfort.
"Why not?" asked Connor, and Danae looked away, unable to think of a single reason as her need for comfort won out.
"It's settled then," said Murphy, "Ye can have my bed."
Connor nodded "Ye shouldn't be alone, right now, Danae."
"Do ye work tonight?" Murphy asked and she shook her head.
"Why don't ye keep us company tonight then as well?" said Connor.
Looking at the two brothers, Danae felt a sweet throb of gratitude and affection toward them. Tears welled in her eyes. For once, she didn't have to cope alone.
Murphy slipped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him, taking solace in the warmth and solidness of another person close to her.
"Come on," he said "Ye'll feel better after some rest."
"I don't think I can sleep yet. Every time I close my eyes I see her." Despite her best efforts to control them, a couple of tears escaped, slipping down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"Yer all right," Murphy said running his hand down her back.
"How about some cards until ye get tired?"
Sniffling, Danae forced the tears back where they belonged, "That sounds great." She said softly, "Thank you both, for everything."
o()o
It took almost two hours, and over a dozen games of poker, but finally Danae leaned against Murphy's shoulder and nodded off.
"Poor girl," Connor said, shuffling the deck one last time before returning them to the package. "That's a fuckin' shitty way ta end yer day."
"Aye," Said Murphy, shifting slightly. "At least she's sleepin' now; she'll feel better when she wakes up."
"I hope so, she was pretty torn up."
Murphy looked down at her remembering her words in the shower: Nothing will ever be all right. Not after this. "She'll be okay." He repeated stubbornly "I'm goin' ta get her inta bed."
Danae made a sleepy noise of protest as she felt Murphy move away and Connor chuckled "I think she likes ye."
"Go on outta that." Murphy said as he slid a hand under Danae's knees, lifting her out of the chair, pressing her body against his. "C'mere, luv," He murmured to her "Yer all right."
"I'm serious," Connor protested. "I think our Danae has a crush on ye."
Laying her down on the cot, Murphy brushed a strand of hair away from her face, watching as she curled around his pillow. He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked and Connor got the impression that Danae wasn't the only one with a crush.
"Ye like her too, then?"
Murphy shot his brother a look "It doesn't really matter, does it? I can't do anything even if I do fancy her, she wouldn't understand what we do."
Connor shrugged, "Ye never know, Danae seems different than most."
Shaking his head, Murphy pulled the blanket over the sleeping girl, reaching out to smooth her hair one last time. "There's no room for that, and ye know it."
"Oh, I don't know, seems ta me there's always room for a beautiful woman." Connor said as he held up a piece of paper for his twin to see.
"And what the fuck is that?"
Laughing, he turned the paper around. "Remi's phone number," he chuckled at his brother's confused expression "The x-ray tech. Turns out I had a better chance than ye thought."
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