take me to sunrise from indigo

The pain pushes his eyes to open halfway, and he feels a hand on his shoulder gently pushing him down. "Just relax, Connor," his brother instructs softly.

He feels like hell. He's been shot before, but this feels worse. Something happened, and he wasn't able to walk away like usual. He rubs at his right side, feeling the bandage and wound dressings wrapped around his abdomen as he attempts to inhale deeply.

They must be back at the church—their church—because the bed feels familiar. Murphy rubs Connor's shoulder slowly and gives him a small smile. "Ye know ye really scared us there, my dear brother."

Connor closes his eyes as he exhales, unsure if the twinge in his gut is from pain or guilt. "Aye, scared myself as well," he admits.

"Do ye remember anything?"

Connor shifts slightly. "Got shot. That's about it. Sort of remember seeing ye and Elena…" The memory is hazy, but her face is clear even for just a moment, and the realization hits him hard. "Fuck. Elena, where is sh—" but the pain shoots again, and he moans out in agony.

He feels Murphy grab his hand, letting Connor squeeze it tightly as the throbbing wave crashes through him. "Sh-sh, it's ok, Conn. I got ye."

Connor concentrates on breathing slowly, hoping that will help ease both his body and his mind. His heart rate settles, and he's able to open his eyes again, looking at his twin still holding onto his hand like he's afraid to let go. Connor relaxes and lets his head sink back into the pillow.

"Elena's here, don't worry. She's asleep in the chair over there," Murphy says softly, nodding toward the other side of the room. Connor carefully rolls his head to see Elena curled up sideways against the back cushion of the armchair. Her bare feet had slid off the arm cushion to hang off the side, while her arms hug herself in her slumber. "Ever since we hauled yer ass back here, the lass refused to leave yer side."

Connor blinks hard, feeling the air growing heavy in his lungs. He knows she wasn't alone; his brother had also been there all night. Murphy won't say anything, though, just as Connor wouldn't if it was the other way around. They were still in school when Murphy had to have his tonsils removed and stay overnight in the hospital. Even as a teenager, Connor didn't understand why he didn't need surgery, too, because it was always him and Murphy, inseparable, the same. The least he could do was stay in that hospital room overnight and make sure that his twin would be okay.

Murphy nods toward Connor's bandages. "Duffy had an ER doctor friend of his fix ye up. Said to watch for any signs of infection and to call him if…" He chokes up a bit, but clasps his other hand over Connor's that he's still holding. "I'm just glad yer alright, considering." He then looks back to Elena and smiles knowingly. "And whatever she's feeling, she's feeling it hard."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Connor pats his free palm over their hands. He smiles, too, feeling the dulled pain as he inhales to speak. "Ye should get some sleep, Murph. I'm not going anywhere."

The boys let go of each other's grasp, and Murphy instantly throws his hand up to his teeth, chewing on the side of his thumb like he does every time his nerves get the better of him. He's visibly unsure, unconvinced that he can leave his brother.

And then his stomach growls, forcing a subdued albeit much-needed laugh out of Connor as he teases, "Or yer fat ass needs some food."

Murphy grins and shakes his head. "Ye need anything? Ye hungry yet?"

Connor waves his hand, signaling no, with another chuckle. "Gotta watch my girlish figure here," he jokes.

His brother stands up, still unsure he can leave, and looks at Elena. "She's gonna be pissed I didn't tell her ye woke up."

Connor can't help the concern threatening his brain and narrows his eyes to focus on their female companion. "She's usually a light sleeper. Surprised she hasn't woken up already."

Murphy laughs a little. "Think she passed out from the adrenaline." He turns back to Connor. "Like I said, whatever she's feeling, she's feeling it hard."

The repeated statement makes Connor blush, and Murphy smiles as he kisses his brother's forehead. "Rest up, brother. I'll be back."

Smiling, Connor feels the heavy fatigue creep back under his eyelids.

. . .

He rubs his wrists, feeling the handcuff scars as he closes his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Connor?"

He looks up and sees Elena sitting across from him. She tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing one of the gold sparrow earrings, and Connor's breath catches in his chest.

Looking down at his hands, he sees the blood all over again, hearing Elena call out his name.

Connor lifts his head to his left and watches Rocco fall back as a gunshot rips into his chest.

Yet as Connor feels a scream rise in his lungs, he falls back himself, collapsing on the ground where Rocco has disappeared.

He looks up and sees Elena again, fear wiping across her features as she leans over him. She reaches her hands up to hold his face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tells him to stay with her. He feels the sharp pain shoot into his side, and he screws his eyes shut in agony.

"Connor, stay with me!" Elena cries again.

He opens his eyes, only to find that he's holding Greenly's face, smearing the blood that's spilling out of the detective's mouth. "Help is on the way, hang on!" Connor cries.

He blinks and sees Da instead, the life slipping from his old Irish eyes. "Da, no…" He glances over to his father's cap, and sees tucked inside is the old black-and-white photo of him and Murphy as wee babes with their mother. The tears flood his eyes as he closes them again.

But when he opens them, he's holding Elena's face, her skin losing color against the palms of his hands. "Elena, stay with me!" he cries, rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks.

Hot tears sting his eyes, and he blinks them away, now seeing Elena holding his face once more as the pain shoots through him again. His rosary hanging around her neck slips out of her shirt, falling between them as she prays. She begs for forgiveness and says his name over and over again. "Connor, please!"

. . .

Connor lurches up in the bed, inhaling quickly and wincing at the pain that pulls in his side. He feels someone gently hold his shoulders and coax him to lay back against the pillows. Exhaling, he opens his eyes and slowly lets reality come back into focus.

The pain doesn't seem so bad anymore as he stares into her Irish green gaze.

Elena cautiously sits down next to him, adjusting the blanket over him. "How are you feeling?"

The all-too-familiar question forces Connor to chuckle, though it hurts like hell.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Elena half-laughs. "Stupid question, huh?"

Connor shrugs with a smile. "Depends, I guess. Are ye asking as a therapist or as a friend?"

Her grin breaks free as she looks at him. "What do you think?"

He bites his lip, feeling the creases around his eyes giving him away. "Therapist, for sure."

Elena shakes her head, her smile fading slightly, though not completely, as she looks down at Connor's abdomen. She takes a deep breath then reaches up, placing her hand against his forehead, checking for a fever just like his mother would whenever he and Murphy fell ill. Elena slides her hand down the side of his face, her fingers grazing against the stubble as she cups his jaw. Connor leans his face into her palm, feeling her thumb rub across his cheek as he closes his eyes.

"Don't do that again," she says softly, her words forcing his eyes to flutter open in confusion. "I can't go through that again," she confesses, her lip trembling a bit as she sucks in a shaky breath.

"Hey," Connor whispers, stroking his hand along her forearm. "It's okay. I'm okay." He rubs his lips together, feeling how dry they are from dehydration and uncertainty. "We're okay, yeah?"

Elena moves her hand across his forehead again, lacing her fingers through his hair with a delicate smile curving her lips. "Yeah, we're okay."

Connor smiles, too, closing his eyes as he shifts his battered body under the blankets. "I don't know how ye fell asleep in that chair like that," he teases lightly, opening his eyes to see Elena blush. "Yer starting to be like Murph."

They both laugh modestly, and Elena rubs her face. "I don't know about that. He's actually taking a nap in my room right now. I don't think he slept at all last night." She looks so drained, like she hasn't taken a deep breath in days, weeks maybe. Maybe Murphy is right, that she passed out from the adrenaline of everything. "I don't even remember falling asleep, really," she admits, rubbing her face again.

Peace. Something he's wanted for so long. Something they need…together, now.

He reaches up to hold her face, and she slowly blinks at him. He shifts again and slides his hand down to her shoulder. She leans down, curling her body into the space next to him and carefully placing her head in the crook of his left shoulder. He wraps his arm around her back and she rests a hand on his chest.

The light of dusk glows through the window, painting the room with electric pinks and vivid violets. Connor feels Elena breathe deeply, her exhale drawing out through her entire body as she melts into him. He leans his face into her hair, kissing the top of her head as he places his right hand over hers, pressing her palm against his heart.

That hand he had stitched up that first night in the church an eternity ago. That hand he had laced his fingers into as they woke up together in that motel room. That hand he felt pressed hard into him to stop the bleeding.

He feels a tear seep into his skin pressed under her cheek, and Connor holds Elena closer as the sky slowly dissolves into indigo. "We're okay," he whispers, for her and for himself. "Creid dom, mo cara…"

Trust me, my friend…