staring down the sun

[30] but i wanted to stay

Her mother had warned her of evil in the world and hoped Elena would never encounter such atrocities. But after her mother died, Elena had no one left, and a life of espionage became easier.

Being alone is what she's good at. Always has been.

Elena looks down at her hands, rubbing her thumb over the healed scar on her palm from that night her life changed forever. The instant that she killed those two men in her apartment and the instant Connor and Murphy showed up, all made the decision to go rogue that much easier and that much faster. But in that moment when Connor held her hand to sew up her wound, Elena realized she wasn't alone anymore.

The small window slides open, casting a glow through the intricate screen and diffusing the man on the other side as Elena crosses herself. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been..." she stalls, frantically searching her memory. "It's been a very long time since my last confession."

"It's alright, my child," the priest assures softly through the screen, his old voice sounding like an American version of the boys' Uncle Sibeal. "Go on."

She rubs her scarred palm again. She can't confess all of her sins...not yet. Surely God will understand, right? She still needs to protect Connor and Murphy, and everyone else involved.

She inhales slowly. "I lied to someone. Well...I just...I didn't want to tell him yet."

"Why is that?"

"I thought I could protect him. If he knew the truth...he wouldn't be able to do his job." How she can be so vague about something so big is nauseating. "But now he knows the truth, and I know he'll never forgive me."

"Why can't you give him a chance?" The question seems unfair, but the priest clarifies. "Why can't you give him a chance to forgive you?"

"Because I don't deserve it. I pretended to be someone else early on, thinking I wouldn't stick around, but...everything changed. I should have left a long time ago. I shouldn't have stayed. I shouldn't have fallen..." Still, she cannot bring herself to say the words aloud. Yet here she is, finally doing what Bloom told her to do—talk to someone.

A tear falls down her cheek as she realizes she can finally let go of everything now. She can finally let go of how she feels. "I fell in love with him." The sudden relief Elena feels in her shoulders and in her soul feels strange and almost frightening. "I knew I shouldn't have, but it just...happened."

"Have you told this young man how you feel?"

She swallows the bile of regret in the back of her throat. "No." But the moments crash into her, like the flickering grain of a movie as she replays them in her mind. Each and every single moment she was connected to Connor, emotionally and physically. They never said the words aloud, but they never needed to.

The priest's voice filters through the confessional with a soft hum. "Actions speak louder than words. But words can underscore your actions."

She closes her eyes, another tear spilling out.

Don't do that again.

Don't.

Elena cries, the weight of everything breaking around her as she silently begs God to tell her something.

She wipes her eyes with a deep breath, and the air around her seems to settle. Maybe this is all she can have, a glimmer of peace while her heart climbs out of hell. Another deep breath, and she closes her eyes.

"What do you want, my dear?" the priest asks kindly. And the memory of Elena asking Connor the very same question pushes into focus.

Her cheeks flush as she smiles weakly, seeing the look in Connor's eyes as he searched for his answer. She feels the guilt smear across her lips, admitting weakly, "I wanted to stay. I just...I can't."

"Perhaps not in the physical sense, but your soul is still with him, just as his soul is still with you."

Her breath hitches in her chest, her green eyes widening with the sudden awareness. "Anam cara..." she exhales.

"Pardon?"

Elena shakes her head, looking at the priest through the decorative screen. "Sorry, it's uh...it's Irish for soul friend."

"Ah, you're Irish then?"

"My mother was. And so is Conn—" She stops herself, afraid that saying his name is too risky.

The priest chuckles gently, though, clearly understanding what she means. "He's Irish, too, this man you love?"

"Aye," Elena answers with an Irish accent, a more relaxed smile curling up her face.

"He's your—how do you say it again?"

"Ann-am kara," she enunciates each syllable as requested. The priest repeats it happily, and Elena lets her shoulders drop. "He is my anam cara."

"Your soulmate."

She bites her lip. "It's deeper than that, beyond friendship and romance...it's an awakening between two souls, a sense of truly knowing someone without pretention." She had read about that in a book once, how an anam cara transforms your way of being in the world. It sounded so wonderful, but every friendship and relationship she attempted to have came nowhere close to that. So she had long accepted she would never get to experience such a feeling...because she was good at being alone. She was alone for the greater good.

And then Connor looked at her that way. Without explanation, without expectation.

He stared at her as the question hung in the air between them. What do you want? He couldn't answer her, not only because they ran out of time, but because he truly did not know. Elena knew that much, because she couldn't answer the question herself.

But that night in the motel room when the brothers assured her she wasn't alone anymore, Elena realized she wanted something she'd been fighting for so long. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

Elena takes a breath all the way out, and the pain in her heart starts to fade as the insight becomes clearer and sharper. "You look and see and understand differently..." Closing her eyes, she sees Connor again, and that look. "Why didn't I realize this sooner?" she chokes out, the pain fading back in, ready to gut her entire being.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways, little bird."

Fear rushes under Elena's skin, threatening to coat her voice as she searches for a way to leave immediately. She hopes she misheard him, that her mind is twisting reality as punishment for letting her guard down. "I-I, uh..." she stutters, adrenaline now flooding her veins. "I should go."

"Dear, are you alright?" the priest asks with what sounds like genuine concern.

Sweat beads up along Elena's forehead, and she shakes her head. "Thank you, but I just...I need to go," her voice quivers as she stands up quickly, already opening the door.

"But, child!"

"I'm sorry, Father," she blurts out, grabbing her bag and rushing out of the confessional. She hears the other door open behind her, yet she refuses to turn around and stop. She walks fast toward the church's doors, tears pooling under her lashes because she's alone, again, naturally. And she feels like a God damn fool.

As long as she keeps walking, as long as she finds somewhere to hide, she'll be okay. And then she can burn everything she has, everything that reminds her of the Saints.

She slips into an alley to catch her breath when a low voice hums behind her. "I know who you are."