staring down the sun

[10] the saints are coming

Connor had always approached things as if he was an artist. Or at least he tried. Even when they were kids, Murphy would dive right in to do something, while Connor wanted to take a step back and think first. Every hair-brained scheme they'd ever done was a work of art to him. Sure, some were executed better than others, but that meant he could learn from the mistakes. And Lord knows Connor has made plenty of mistakes in his life.

He can't help envisioning a flawless, movie-like assassination. He paints a picture of himself and Murphy hailing as heroes, á la Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, with Elena gushing over them and approving of their job well done. Connor smiles as he finishes explaining his idea, but the smile fades as he sees Murphy shaking his head with a smirk that reads more like idiot instead of genius. Connor expects that from his brother, though.

Looking at Elena, her face reads differently, her eyebrows pressed together, and her nose wrinkled in pure disgust. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm the lovestruck damsel in your little fantasy?"

A huge lump forms in Connor's throat, and his cheeks grow hot as Murphy laughs his ass off. He must have explained it wrong or something because that's not what he meant. "That's not what I meant..."

Murphy's laughter grows, and Elena doesn't budge from her icy stare in Connor's direction. He feels the sweat beading up along his forehead, and his heart beats faster.

But Elena lets out an exasperated sigh. "Forget it," she assures, yet she's still pissed.

Connor stumbles on his words as Murphy's giggles fill the awkward silence. "It's just...I didn't think ye would want to be part of the action...not that ye can't...I mean...I figured ye would..."

Murphy finally calms down, wiping tears from laughing so much. "Oh my dear brother, ye really fucked that up."

Elena shifts her glare to the darker-haired MacManus, shaking her head. "It's fine," she says, still clearly irritated. "But you might as well use me for something."

"She's got a point, Conn. She did kill those two motherfuckers before we could even get in the door."

Connor chews on his lip, mulling over the idea of Elena having a more...active role. Maybe he's avoiding that consideration because he wants to protect her. Perhaps he doesn't trust her completely. It was different including Rocco and Romeo in their endeavor. They wanted to be there. Elena does not. She made that clear back at the church.

She had kicked Connor and Murphy out of Smecker's office with a pack of cigarettes like some sad consolation prize for excluding them from the conversation. And although he tried to mentally pull her thoughts right out of her head so he could make sense of everything, he caved and followed his brother outside. Once they were on the church's steps, Connor took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly like he was expelling all of the tension. He looked over to Murphy, who was blowing smoke rings into the air as they stood in the moonlight. The glow of the church created a soft golden haze behind them, contrasting the cool blue hue of night in front of them.

"Babysitter, huh?" Murphy broke the silence.

Connor took another drag, inhaled through his teeth, and exhaled through his nose. "That's not what she meant," he assured, even if he didn't believe it himself.

Smecker came out as they stamped out their cigs, and Murphy handed the pack back to him. His smile was both triumphant and mysterious as he offered the brothers a second smoke each, to which they obliged. He walked down the steps and stared up at the night sky, placing his weight and his hand on his left hip. The boys looked at his back as he smoked, wondering what the clever detective was concocting in his brain.

"Boys," he called out without turning around, his face still pointed toward the stars. "A little bird tells me it's raining in New York." Connor felt Murphy's confused face turn toward him, but Connor kept staring at Smecker. A little bird. The panic of uncertainty crept back into his lungs, proving more harmful than the tobacco. Smecker turned around, and his eyes glistened from both the church lights and his deep regard for the MacManus brothers. "And remember...be careful."

"Well?" Murphy's voice interrupts Connor's thoughts, forcing him to blink everything back into focus. His brother's eyebrows are raised, waiting for the answer that Connor's still unsure of. But patience was never his brother's strong suit, and Murphy shakes his head while turning his attention to Elena. "Fuck it. Here's what yer going to do, lass..."

Connor's instinct is to protest his brother, but he listens to Murphy explain how Elena will take out the guards so they can slip into the building undetected. Then he continues with Connor's plan, this time with the addition of Elena as their backup, covering any blind spots as they assassinate the entire drug ring. A wave falls over him, something that strangely feels like...relief.

"Then we head back to the motel and throw back some Irish to celebrate." Murphy swipes his palms together, smiling. "Right, Connor?"

Yeah, relief. His lips curl up one side of his face as he confirms. "That's the plan."

The boys do another check of their guns, pulling the slides back on each one to make sure they're loaded and ready. Elena does the same with her Glock. "Ready?" she asks.

"Aye," Murphy quietly answers, then they both turn their eyes to Connor.

Honestly, his confidence is strained, coming in waves over the past several months. Like a true struggling artist.

He blinks away the doubt and nods, and the three of them separate into two and one as they take their positions.

Two suppressed gunshots pop in the air, and the two dark-dressed men by the door fall dead. Murphy raises his eyebrows at Connor, silently boasting that he was right about Elena. But Connor remains cautious, not ready to celebrate just yet. He motions with two fingers for them to go, and they slowly walk into the building.

Usually, something would go wrong by now and throw the plan off track. But the brothers quickly kill every man inside, their two-handed aim still marked with incredible precision. No bullet is wasted, piercing each criminal and spraying their blood into the air.

The boss attempts his escape as his cronies fall around him, running away like the coward he truly is until Connor grabs him by the back of his neck. He drags the man back into the middle of the room, placing him on his knees as the brothers pull their rosaries from under their shirts. They move in sync as they point their guns at the back of the guy's head, reciting their family prayer together.

And shepherds we shall be. For Thee, my Lord, for Thee.

Power hath descended forth from Thy hand.

That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command.

So we shall flow a river forth to Thee.

And Teeming with souls shall it ever be.

In Nomine Patris, et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.

Two more suppressed gunshots ring in the air as Connor and Murphy each fire their Berettas. Then everything is quiet. Connor and Murphy stare at the dead man on the floor, blood pooling under his head, or what's left. Once upon a time, they would smile in triumph, feeling quite arrogant in their natural talent for killing. They were younger, naive, invincible. Now, after all they have lost, but in all they still have left, the MacManus brothers look at their success with humbled eyes.

They hear breathing still laced with adrenaline behind them, and Connor and Murphy turn around, knowing they will see Elena. She almost seems frozen, her body half in the doorway, peering around the corner at them. Her hands grip her Glock, lowered cautiously but still ready to fire. Her breathing steadies as she stares back at the boys, her eyes briefly drifting down toward the body at their feet. She looks back at them, her eyes locking with Connor specifically, and she relaxes her arms, still holding her gun in her right hand as she approaches them.

Murphy bends down to roll the boss onto his back while Connor can't tear his eyes away from Elena. She doesn't say a word, she simply moves closer. Connor looks down, and his heart swells at the sight of her left hand offering two clean copper pennies.