staring down the sun

[4] two dimes in the telephone

Peace. The word had continued to repeat itself since her session with Connor ended earlier. The word continues to repeat in her head as she draws in her notebook. Murphy will surely mock her for drawing a hippie peace sign beside their family prayer. Connor, on the other hand...

Elena broke him, just like she had promised. And she worries that she's fucked everything up. There's still so much to tell him, to assure him as he works through his pain. That he will get through this. That he and his brother are indeed good people despite what they've done in the eyes of the law. That nothing is his fault.

And then there are things that she absolutely cannot tell Connor and Murphy. Not yet.

First, she has to protect them. She has to make sure they're going to be okay. If not, she should just disappear, no goodbye, no explanation. Maybe they'll get someone better qualified to treat them. Someone better to help them. Hell, she's not even sure why she was picked to help them in the first place. Not that she really had a choice.

Elena stares at the peace sign, realizing she has unconsciously written Connor's name under it, the letters curving to match the circular shape.

Fuck.

She quickly closes the notebook and pulls out her laptop to type up her latest report on the MacManus brothers. If she had to be completely honest, she would write, "Murphy is fine, Connor is fucked up, and it's all my fault."

This is only temporary. She knows Connor will oscillate between the stages of grief and PTSD no matter what, and he'll be able to handle it. As long as he has his brother, Connor will be okay. They both will be.

Murphy had mentioned the St. Patrick's Day incident in their last session, what happened when Connor thought those Russians were going to kill his brother. "I had never heard his voice like that before." Murphy leaned his arms on the table and traced circles with his right finger that read aequitas. He smiled, despite the painful memory. "The night before, that fight at Doc's bar, Connor told them all that I could take care of myself. But then the next morning..." Elena swallowed hard as Murphy shook his head, still smiling. "That's Connor though. He knows when shit is serious. He knows when ye cannot take care of yerself. He knows when to take care of ye." Elena asked Murphy if he was the same way, and he shook his head no adamantly. "Fuck no. But I don't think things through the way he does. Me, I'll jump right into anything, really."

As long as they have each other, they'll be okay.

Elena types up a more formal assessment of the twins' psychoanalytical progress. Using words like stabilized, self-reflective, and emotional awareness, when her cell phone buzzes with an encrypted text, telling her to call from a payphone.

She walks out of her apartment building and heads two blocks southwest. The payphone has a new addition of graffiti scrawled across the side, ironically reading FREE THE SAINTS. As a result, Elena opts to use the payphone three blocks east instead.

The sun is flirting with the horizon, creating that color of periwinkle that only dusk and dawn know so well. Elena looks over her shoulder as she approaches the new payphone destination, and an older woman disappears onto the bus headed for downtown.

Two dimes in the payphone, and she calls the number as instructed. She recognizes the man's voice that picks up, and they both know not to use names. "You think they're ready?" the man asks cautiously.

Elena bites her lip, looking out at the sky growing violet. "I hope so."

"You can't second guess this." His voice is firm yet oddly comforting.

She shakes her head. "So when should they be ready?"

"You can't know that. Not yet."

Rolling her eyes, she doesn't tamp out the sarcasm. "Right. How foolish of me."

He sighs on the other end. "It's only to protect you."

"I can take care of myself—" Fuck. She sounds just like the boys now.

"I don't doubt it, sweetheart. For now, be patient. I'll be in touch."

The phone clicks and cuts to a dial tone. She stands there, still holding the phone to her ear, with no one listening. Her breath hitches as she finally tunes back into reality, hanging up and turning away from the payphone. She looks at the sky, now morphed into a calmer shade of blue, a sprinkling of stars slowly appearing over the city.

As she walks back to her apartment, taking the longer, more obscure way home, she wonders how she should just run away. The boys will be okay. Eventually, they'll either understand or simply forget all about her. The latter is more likely. But the problem is that she'll never be able to forget about them...not whenever the sky becomes this shade of MacManus-eyes blue.