staring down the sun

[7] look at my eyes

"Muinín dom."

A strange rush flows under Connor's skin from the sound of Elena's voice speaking pure Irish so confidently. Sure, she's American, but she could easily fool anyone that she's 100% Irish. He drops his shoulders as she runs her hand through her hair, pulling the strands away from her exhausted face and showing she's still wearing the gold sparrow earrings.

Trust me.

"Aye," he says with a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her sweat mingled with death filling the room.

Murphy nods in agreement, and Elena instructs them to go down the back staircase, and she'll meet them with the car at the corner of 5th and State, located three blocks southwest.

While Elena wraps a proper bandage around her hand in the bathroom, Connor and Murphy carefully inspect the bodies of her attackers. Murphy moves to the guy by the broken mirror while Connor takes the other masked man Elena had just shot. They pull up the men's masks, searching their memory to see if they recognize the faces. Strangely, the guy in the hallway has dark hair, while the second in the living room has lighter brown hair. The brothers look at each other, their faces pale as if seeing their own ghosts. They quickly pull up the black sleeves on each dead arm and, fortunately, find the arms are clean, with no tattoos matching their own. The fast, terrifying thought that they were already being set up still hangs between them, but they let out simultaneous sighs of relief that, for now, it's just a thought.

Connor looks back down at his respective dead body as Murphy stands behind him. Both men have no other items on them except for their knives: no identification, no money, no cell phone. Then Connor spots a black metal watch on the man's wrist. He slides the watch off and looks it over curiously. Nothing stands out except for a symbol engraved on the back of the watch, a strange geometric design that he's never seen before.

Elena reappears in a black jacket, and Connor quickly drops the watch in his coat pocket. She raises an eyebrow, splitting her attention between the two brothers. "You ready?"

After Elena disappears down the back staircase, the brothers rush down the other staircase at the far end of the hall. They turn right once they push the fire door open and land on the sidewalk, discreetly dipping into an alley two buildings south.

The night air is quiet and unfamiliar. Hell, just three days ago, they were still incarcerated. Until Danny Finch slipped Connor into an isolated cell that served as the gateway to their escape. It was immediately after Finch had gotten Connor from his therapy session, when Connor thought Elena was the "little bird" they were waiting for...when Connor didn't say goodbye.

Murphy told him he was a fool for wanting to see Elena just to say goodbye. But Connor, as always, convinced his brother that he had a plan, and they would be in and out within minutes. "This is just something I have to do, Murph," he tried to explain. Even though he didn't understand it himself, he knew he'd never forgive himself if he didn't say something.

But they didn't expect to hear the screaming, struggling, and gunshots coming from her apartment. For a moment, Connor thought they were going to save her. And then seeing her on top of that dead body like a dominating force of nature made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"So much for yer plan, yeah?" Murphy teased as they turned left at the end of the alley.

"Oh, don't even start," Connor snaps.

Murphy throws his hands up in sheer frustration. "Who knows what we've gotten ourselves into now with this broad! All because ye wanted to say goodbye like a fucking pussy."

Connor stops and fast grabs a fistful of Murphy's coat, pulling his brother close to look him square in the eye. "Look, we'll go with her just this once, and then we're on our own. You and me."

Strangely, Murphy doesn't react or throw a snarky response as Connor holds onto his coat. Connor can feel how red his face is and how white his knuckles are gripping his brother. He loosens his hand, and Murphy's shoulders slump while he keeps his eyes on Connor.

Murphy adjusts his coat, and both men start walking again. Neither one had to say anything; they knew they had to keep moving.

They reach 5th Street and spot a dark grey Honda Civic parked with the engine running. Elena rolls down the window, and Connor climbs into the backseat, leaving Murphy to ride shotgun. Ignoring Murphy's smirk and side-eye glance as Elena shifts the car into gear, Connor notices her eyes in the rearview mirror. He looks behind them, watching for anyone who might be following.

Connor's nerves vibrate with the hum of the car, trying not to dwell on the questions he wants to ask out loud.

"So, where are we going to, lass?" Murphy breaks the silence with his trademark snark.

"To church."

Grinning, Murphy twists his head to look at Connor. "Aye, she did say she was Catholic, too, huh?" Connor keeps his smile reserved.

"There's a church just outside the city. That's where you were supposed to go after you escaped."

Connor and Murphy shoot wide-eyed glances at each other, and Murphy turns his face back to Elena. "Ye knew?"

She inhales slowly as she shifts into the next gear. "I am a rogue CIA agent working with Agent Smecker to establish an underground network that will support you two in your mission, calling, whatever you want to call it."

Connor's chest feels tight while Murphy quickly calls out one detail. "Smecker's dead."

Elena laughs, rubbing her forehead. "God damn it, he's going to give me so much crap for this. He wanted to surprise you." She shakes her head, smiling, and shifting eye contact between each twin. "He's alive. Asshole faked his death back in 2003."

The twins are slack-jawed, something that doesn't happen often, until Murphy turns back to Connor, and they burst out in laughter. "Fucking Smecker! Badass motherfucker!" Murphy exclaims.

"Fucking Smecker!" Connor echoes in between giggles. "Talk about shit ye see in the movies."

"He did it for you two. So he could set this whole thing up for you."

That familiar heavy sense of benevolence floods Connor's brain, like all those years ago when he overheard Smecker's confession to the priest. The FBI agent admitted that he wanted to help the boys, and that he felt what they were doing was right. Kill all that which is evil. Both Connor and Murphy had already sensed the good in Smecker when he interviewed them about the Chekov incident. And they were right in trusting Smecker to look out for them.

Connor bites his lip and looks at Elena's eyes in the rearview again. She glances up at him, catching his stare, and he takes a deep breath. "We thought ye were just a therapist."

Shifting the car again, Elena focuses on the road ahead but softly explains everything to them. "Look, those therapy sessions were real. My job was to ensure you boys had the right mindset to return to work."

The road ahead is beginning to get swallowed up into darkness as the city's lights fade behind them. Connor rubs his face, opening his mouth as if he is going to say something. Nothing. He's not sure what to feel or think or say.

"And don't give me the whole 'real men hide their feelings' bullshit again," Elena speaks up. "You can't go to hell and back unscathed."

Murphy smiles, nodding his head in agreement and seemingly accepting the newly acquired information about Elena Jensen. Connor, however, can't hide the hurt that coats his voice as he asks, "Why didn't ye tell us?"

Elena looks in the mirror again, her green eyes soft and reassuring. "It wasn't part of the plan."