a long night, open, knowing

She wakes up slowly, her body still wrapped up with Connor's as the glow of sunrise illuminates the room. His heartbeat is steady, relaxed against her palm, and she realizes waking up next to Connor, again, is where she wants to be.

It's both terrifying and soothing all at the same time.

Elena lifts her head, the corners of her lips tugging up as she sees Connor sound asleep, as he should be. She carefully sits up, moving gingerly so as not to disturb him, or inadvertently hurt him. He's breathing deeply and calmly, and Elena trusts he's not anywhere near the realm of having another nightmare. She softly rakes her fingers through his hair, and considers kissing his forehead.

Terrifying. Soothing. All at once.

Connor stirs a bit as she pulls her lips off his skin, but his eyes remain closed, creasing ever so slightly as if he's about to smile. Elena waits momentarily, staring at him and not wanting to leave him. But as he settles deeper into his slumber, she exhales with relief.

She steps lightly into her room, expecting to find Murphy still sleeping in her bed. She figures that his nap morphed into a day's-long deep sleep after everything. But he's absent, leaving a mostly-made bed in his wake. Pulling clean clothes from her bag, she catches a whiff of freshly brewed coffee and figures Murphy is outside for his morning smoke.

The steam of the much-needed shower warms her body as she watches the last remnants of Connor's blood that had dried between her fingers wash off, while her muscles still ache from being so tensed up over the past few days. Sleeping in that chair probably didn't help either, but she couldn't leave Connor or Murphy.

As they sat there, waiting and watching after the doctor had left, Murphy shared some of his favorite Connor stories. He told Elena about the time he got his tonsils taken out and how Connor slept in the hospital room with him to make sure he was okay. And how, since then, even as adults, there was something about being able to hear the other one breathing in the middle of the night that comforted the twins. "I know there will come a time when we won't have that anymore, or rather, we won't need that anymore. But tonight…" Murphy's breath hitched a little, and he allowed a tear to fall down his cheek. "Tonight, I…we need to hear his breathing," he said softly, his eyes glassy yet comforted as he looked at Elena.

Her damp hair falls by her face as she readies a cup of coffee in the kitchen, grateful for the quiet solitude before reality wakes up. Murphy walks in, reeking of cigarettes and holding his own mug. "Morning, lass."

"Hey, Murph. You sleep okay?" she asks as she offers him a refill.

"Aye," he nods and hands her the cup. He rubs the back of his head as he watches her go through the motions. "Thanks for letting me use yer bed, by the way." He sips the fresh coffee with a slight glint in his eyes. "Figured ye two wouldn't mind being alone," he admits with that infamous smirk.

She doesn't want to acknowledge the statement, but she appreciates the sentiment.

Murphy leans his shoulder into the doorframe, his voice low yet so matter-of-fact. "Ye love him, don't ye?"

Elena feels her ears turn red as Murphy holds her gaze with those knowing MacManus-blue eyes. If she says the words aloud, it will suddenly become more real. If she admits how she feels, it will be that much harder to walk away. Because deep down, she knows this won't be forever, this being a Saint.

Real men hide their feelings.

Or you hide your feelings to protect them…to protect yourself.

Murphy looks down, half-laughing. "I get it. Ye can't say it out loud." He lifts his chin and rubs the back of his neck, the slight smile still on his lips as he shakes his head. "He won't say it either. Ever the superstitious one, he is."

Elena laughs nervously, "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Murphy grins as he moves to sit at the small table. "Ye can blame our mother for instilling that in him. I'd seen that woman throw salt over her shoulder too many times."

She eyes the dark-haired brother curiously as she joins him. "And you're not that way?"

"Hey, I know I can seem pretty impulsive, but that's because I have to do something. Otherwise, I'll go insane." He pauses with his mouth hanging open, laughing at himself more. "Not something I should admit to the therapist, yeah?"

"Not unless you want to talk about it…" Elena teases.

Murphy shakes his head. "Nah. Ye've got yer own problems to deal with, lass."

She bites her lip and drops her eyes to her coffee. It's almost comforting, knowing that Murphy knows.

It's been so long since she's felt something like this, this overwhelming combination of confusion and attraction and adoration. Another spy, someone she worked well with, but the job won out in the end after he was sent overseas for a covert operation. In the end, it was for the greater good.

Elena warms her hands on the coffee mug, watching the steam rise and swirl in the morning light. "Have you ever been in love, Murphy?"

His eyes faintly widen, a fair reaction to her question. She honestly can't believe it came out of her mouth, but she wants to know. Maybe out of comfort again, to reassure that she's not alone.

A fond memory clearly dissolves back into focus for him as his face breaks into a smile. "I have. But it just wasn't meant to be." Elena nods, avoiding the urge to prod more, yet Murphy continues anyway. "Wasn't long after we moved to America. Ye know, when Connor and I worked at that pub he was talking about?"

She laughs, hiding her face with her hand as she remembers that night. "That damn bottle spin!"

"Exactly!" Murphy laughs, too. "Well, that was how I met her. She came in with a bachelorette party, and I fell for her, hard." He takes a sip of coffee with a grin. "Hell of a thing, ye know? God, she was beautiful, too."

Elena smiles, her cheeks blushing a bit. She hates to ask the question, but that's the problem with love…it always ends somehow. "Why didn't it work out?"

He shakes his head, still holding a small smile, but just as he opens his mouth, the sound of Smecker's voice greeting them breaks in. They turn their heads toward him as he approaches with coffee. "I take it Connor's doing better if you both are down here."

They both nod and lift their mugs simultaneously, forcing Elena to chuckle as she realizes she's mirroring Murphy.

"Aye. I'll go up and check on him," Murphy says, giving Elena a quick wink before standing up.

"Hey, Murph?" she calls out before he crosses through the doorway. He turns around, his eyebrows raised a little. "Thank you." He smiles and then disappears into the hallway.

Smecker takes the now vacant seat across from her, his own eyebrows raised curiously, and Elena's afraid he's going to interrogate her about her feelings for Connor, too. "How are you doing, little bird?"

The nickname/codename warms her heart, and she lets out a long sigh of relief. "Better." She twists her mouth as she stares at her coffee, afraid to meet Smecker's eyes again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not your fault. Everything's been hell lately."

Hell. She had always heard about it as this otherworldly place, where you go after you die if you've committed evil. But hell exists here, and in the choices everyone makes. That's why Connor and Murphy felt their calling, why simply being good men wasn't enough. "To go as far as is needed," as their father once said, and each brother mentioned it separately during their therapy sessions with Elena.

She takes a deep breath, thinking about how much farther they need to go. "Beck mentioned a meet-up between Obsidian agents and some Russian…maybe we should..."

"Elena, no." It's not often she hears Smecker say her first name, but she knows that when he does, it's because he cares and needs her to listen. She blinks and finally raises her eyes to meet his, that same look he gave her when they first met in that interrogation room…that look that can read her mind. "You need a break. All three of you." Exhaling, he folds his hands on the table. "I'll talk to Eunice, and if we need to do something, I'll have Dolly and Duffy manage it," he assures softly.

"You serious? I like them both, but they—"

"They can get intel. That's all I will have them do." He leans back as he runs a hand through his hair. "That's if we'll even need them to."

Elena feels a new blend of stubbornness bite her tongue: her own now mixed with the MacManus kind, tasting like Irish whiskey and virtue. Despite everything, despite her fear, that need for justice keeps creeping up the back of her throat. Though it very well could be that she's mistaking justice for revenge…

Smecker repeats her name, a subdued smile on his face. "Take the break."

She breathes out, releasing that stubborn taste into the air so she can breathe in relief. "Okay," she agrees as she drops her shoulders. "Thanks, Paul."

He nods slowly, his smile growing more. "We both know you won't be able to leave him, anyway."