headlights on the hillside

When she first established her cover as the court-ordered therapist, Elena studied the boys' files carefully, looking at what she was getting herself into. Their mugshots that were stapled to each respective manila folder somehow captured the weird mix of grief and hubris each brother felt at that moment of their arrest. They had just lost their father and their freedom and were close to losing their friend Romeo, yet they still exuded a strong sense of self-righteousness. Somehow, they still seemed to believe in what they felt they were called to do.

All she had to do was play the part, see how they were doing, and report back to Smecker. Instead, Elena wanted to dig her way into their brains, see if she could find God hiding in the two Irish lads who killed evil men. "Be careful what ye ask for," her mother had always told her…and it sure as fuck applied in that moment the boys started to open up. Elena just didn't know it yet.

She quickly shifts her eyes between Connor and Murphy, a sinking feeling coming over her as they work out what to do now that Obsidian has framed the Saints for the death of a New York City Police Officer…the death of Johnny Beck.

Obsidian had waited to leak the fabricated story, proving that they could go in and clean up what happened at Saint Christopher's without raising suspicion. Seemed Beck was right to assume their power went deeper than a typical mob boss.

Elena had seen other splinter groups within government agencies, but they consistently failed to gain much traction before eventually getting caught. And none of them were colluding with organized crime factions like Obsidian. No, she had never seen a group so capable of creating a narrative that slipped through the cracks. A narrative fueled by more and more curious characters, like that guy running for Congress. A narrative no one paid any attention to until the Saints got involved.

Connor leans his fists against the table, newspapers, notes, and evidence spread out in front of him. Each headline marks a trail of Obsidian's suspected influence.

SAINTS WANTED FOR MURDER OF NYPD DETECTIVE

SEX TRAFFICKING ON THE RISE, POLICE UNABLE TO DETAIN SUSPECTS

NEW BRAND OF HEROIN KILLING ADDICTS IN NYC

HAWKINS, CONGRESS LOOKING TO PASS "ANTI-VIGILANTE" BILL TO DETER SAINTS COPYCATS

CATHOLICS AFRAID TO ATTEND MASS FOLLOWING CHURCH VIOLENCE SPREE

"It's never going to stop unless we do something," Connor states firmly, with everyone nodding their heads in agreement.

That stubborn sense of justice suddenly tastes different. Elena's chest grows tighter, and she reaches out to touch the boys lightly on their arms, forcing the words out of her mouth. "I need to talk to you. Both of you."

The twins look at Elena with concern, then back to each other as they nod slightly with raised eyebrows, speaking their silent language again.

She leads them into the hallway, looking over their shoulders to ensure no one else is within earshot. The lump in her throat threatens her ability to whisper, but she has to say something. "If you do this, if you go after Obsidian, you'll have targets on your backs for the rest of your lives."

"We already do," Connor starts, his eyes strangely accepting of what they have become.

"Aye, not to mention our little prison escape," Murphy adds.

Elena shakes her head. "No, this is bigger than that. This is bigger than the mafia framing you for murder. This is bigger than all of us."

The dark-haired twin looks so sure of himself and his brother. "We can take care of it."

"Murphy, we're talking about criminals who work deep within the government. Terrorists, and not the kind that say 'death to America.' These are Americans, who think they are the true patriots."

That stubborn sense of nobility builds in Connor's face. "All the more reason to take them down, yeah?"

Anyone else would commend them for their determination. But this is different…the boys are different. "If you get caught, you're not going back to prison." Her voice catches in her throat with the still-fresh memory of Connor bleeding, unresponsive. "You will be killed."

Elena stares at them, her words visibly weighing on their shoulders as they lower their heads. Connor keeps his eyes down, and Murphy sniffs once as he looks away. The twins can't even look at each other yet.

Murphy walks away without a word, not even acknowledging his brother. He disappears upstairs, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear with his right hand. Aequitas.

She folds her arms over her chest, finally sucking in a deep albeit shaky breath, and looks back to Connor. He lifts his head, still not looking at Elena, and rubs his left hand over his face. Veritas. Deep dread dulls his blue eyes, and it breaks her heart. But she had to say something. And then there's the thing she still can't bring herself to say out loud.

His eyes meet hers, ripping into her soul. She whispers his name, almost tasting him on her lips as he stares at her. Nothing else forms in her throat, but she feels a tear escape from the corner of her eye.

Connor exhales slowly, reaching up to hold Elena's face. He rubs his thumb over her cheek and holds her gaze. She thinks she's gotten pretty good at reading him…that she can talk to him without talking.

He pulls her into his arms, tight, and she presses the side of her face into his chest. She grips his back as he hugs her, feeling his heartbeat against her ear.

"Please don't do this, Connor."

He squeezes his arms around her, refusing to let go. At least, that's what Elena wants to believe. She swallows hard, pushing the suggestion out with a deep breath. "You could run away."

Connor slowly lets go of her, steps back, and looks at her with disbelief. "What?" he whispers, hoping he misunderstood her.

Elena bites her lip, lowering her voice more. "You could run." She swallows again. We could run, she wants to say. Instead, she straightens her back, the pose contradicting the sadness on her face. "You and Murphy. You could disappear, and no one will find you."

Connor's face falls more incredulous, his eyes narrow yet glistening with heartbreak. "We tried that. Didn't work, now did it?"

Her shoulders slump, and an unforgiving chill rushes under her skin. He's only a step away, but it feels like an entire ocean has flooded between them. She opens her mouth, but words fail her.

He runs his hand through his hair, his own mouth falling open as he sorts the words in his head. He finally looks at her again, his twilight blue eyes sparkling like glass. "Of all people, I thought ye would understand why we have to do this." And then a single tear breaks over his lashline, falling fast and disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Elena takes a deep breath. "Connor, I do understand. Believe me. I felt the same way when Smecker brought that evidence from Boston..."

Fuck. She trails off, stopping herself from saying more. The other thing she wasn't ready to tell him yet.

He holds up his hand with his eyes narrowing more. "What…what evidence?"

She can feel her heartbeat pound in every inch of her body, thumping in her head as Connor stares at her. She tries to inhale, but her chest feels heavy.

"What evidence, Elena?" he repeats, his voice sharper.

She feels so incredibly small. This is not how this is supposed to go. But she has to tell him now. Veritas. "From Copley Plaza. That's how we found Nikolai."

Connor's eyes widen as his face falls with shock. He doesn't say anything, and his eyes narrow again.

Once upon a time, Elena broke him, but not like this. This is different.

She tries to say his name, but he stops her midway, his veritas finger up like a warning. "Don't." He combs his hand through his hair again, letting his eyes unfocus as he visibly ruminates on Elena's confession. He blinks and looks at Elena with a mixture of betrayal and anguish. "It's my fault that ye killed Nikolai, isn't it?"

"No, that's not—"

"What? Ye saying ye were going to kill him before that?"

But even the truth is hard to believe sometimes. She presses her lips together to keep her nerves in check. "I would have, had I had the chance, yes."

He looks away again, and Elena knows he's replaying that day in his head: March 19, 1999. "It was my fucking idea to go there. When I got that info for the hotel meet, it was my fucking idea to go kill them. Murphy agreed, yeah, but I'm the one who fucking thought, we could destroy all of these motherfuckers."

"Connor…"

He shakes his head, still not looking at her. "It's all my fault. All of this."

The thought weighs heavy on his shoulders, finally proving that he's been carrying more than he ever wanted to admit…just what Elena wanted way back in that prison interrogation room. But he can't blame himself for any of this…he shouldn't.

Elena says his name again and slowly takes a step toward him, wanting more than anything to wrap her arms around him again, but she keeps them folded against her chest. And Connor steps back, out of reach, his eyes shifting more toward anger. Whether it's directed at her or himself or everything, doesn't really matter…her heart still breaks more.

"I can't." His voice sounds so unstable, and he starts for the stairs. "I can't do this."

Against her better judgment, Elena chases after him.

Outside, Connor blows right past his brother at the bottom of the church steps, refusing to stop as he heads for the field beyond the gravel. Murphy spins his head back to Elena, his eyebrows creased together as he asks, "What the fuck?" All Elena can do is shake her head…she can explain, but she can't at the same time. Murphy jogs after Connor, only to be told to "fuck off" as he disappears into the woods.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Murphy yells at Elena, causing her to flinch as her feet hit the ground at the bottom of the stairs. He presses his lips together taut, apologizing, "Sorry, lass." He gestures in the direction Connor ran off, a justified look of concern washing over his face and strangely silently asking her to join him. Elena waves her hand politely and shakes her head again, sucking in a breath as she watches Murphy follow his brother's path.

She turns around and finds those four familiar faces watching her sympathetically. Smecker moves slowly from the door, about to descend down the concrete steps, but Elena walks back up toward him. She tries to look into his eyes but drops her gaze almost instantly, afraid she'll break down here in front of everyone.

Smecker doesn't say anything, but he does place his hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb ever so slightly. Elena looks up, unable to keep her tears from welling up, but she'd be damned if she'd let them fall down her face. She half-laughs and shakes her head, looking Smecker dead in the eye with heartbreak. "Didn't I tell you I shouldn't be here?"