AN: I felt the sudden urge to write this because, we never get to see the desperate side of the brothers MacManus. We don't get to see them deal with loss very often, you have to admit that they are some of the luckiest people in fiction without being Mary-Sue-like, so what happens when you take that away? Also, I use Blaise in all of these stories because she's familiar and I have a whole world built around her in my head (way back from my RP days, if y'all recall) so sue me.
As usual, I don't own the characters portrayed except for Blaise.
The lights of the police cars were visible from beyond the edge of the block. The alternating red and blue bounced off of the surrounding buildings and reflected back, making a strobe light of lawfulness. The brothers could see the lights from more than half a block away.
Worry began to creep past the edges of adrenaline and exhaustion.
Their hideout was in a good neighbourhood, where crime was virtually non-existent. They'd stayed as long as they had for a reason. Their guardian angel, Blaise, paid good money to keep her privacy intact and it had served the Saints well to be associated with her.
"It's someone else, right?" Connor asked rhetorically.
"Aye." Murphy replied hesitantly, unsure about it himself. "An' we'll just sneak in th' back like we always do."
The brothers slowed their pace, the twinges of panic coming quicker and more noticeably the closer they got to their hideout. Luckily, they were approaching from the opposite side of where the barricade began and they could get a better look at what was happening from a distance.
Both of the brothers felt their hearts sink as they were able to see the scene for what it was.
The police cars were situated around the familiar two story Victorian style house that the infamous Saints had been calling home for the past months. Yellow police tape fluttered in the cool night breeze and uniformed police officers milled about the neighbourhood, moving mechanically in and out of the crime scene.
Connor dropped the bag he was holding and it slipped through his fingers, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
"Blaise?" He choked. "Oh God..."
Murphy was quick, and he was lucky. He dropped his own duffel bag and threw his arms around his brother, one gloved hand barely able to muffle the tormented yell that escaped Connor's mouth. He pulled his brother close, fighting against his struggling twin and eventually pulling them both to the ground to stop Connor from running directly into the waiting arms of Boston's finest.
"Connor, hush..." Murphy begged, holding fast to his brother's shaking body. He was choking back his own worry and his own tears. "We're no good ta' her if we're in jail."
They sat there on the ground for a long time, the gravel and asphalt digging into Murphy's knees through his thin jeans as he watched the scene around Blaise's house carefully. Connor was barely paying attention, shaking and mumbling what Murphy assumed was a prayer between weak attempts to rush to the house.
"There's no ambulance." Murphy said after a long silence.
"So?" Connor replied, still doubled over with his head nearly touching the cold pavement.
Murphy slowly let go of his brother, resting his hand against his twin's back in a gesture of reassurance, and a reminder to Connor that he'd grab him again if he tried to bolt. "So it means tha' she's no' hurt, or dead."
Slowly, Connor lifted his head to look.
Murphy was right. There was no ambulance, just a half dozen police cars and two unmarked sedans with police lights flashing in their windows.
"Issat Duffy an' Dolly, d'you think?" Connor asked, pointing out the unmarked cars.
Murphy looked at where his brother was pointing. "Maybe." He replied. "Or at least Greenbeans."
Connor wrinkled his nose, as much as he loved Detective Greenly, he wasn't Connor's first choice in detectives to have working on a case. Especially not when loved ones were involved. As far as Connor was concerned, Greenly wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
"What do we do?" Connor asked, his voice cracking. He was lost for the first time in recent memory.
"We wait." Murphy said somberly.
A shrill chirp sounded from Connor's pocket, breaking the sullen silence that had descended upon the brothers again.
"The hell is that?" Murphy asked.
Connor reached into his pea coat pocket and produced the throwaway cell phone that Blaise had insisted he carry when they go on their 'missions'. She claimed that it was better to have one and not need it, than to need a phone and not have one. And phone booths were a rare commodity these days.
"She's a fucking genius." Murphy announced, clapping his brother on the shoulder.
"Blaise?" Connor asked into the phone as he held it hesitantly to his ear.
"No, sorry." The voice on the other end drawled. "It's Duffy."
"Oh, Duffy..." Connor visibly deflated and Murphy grabbed the phone.
"You at Blaise's?" Murphy snapped.
"Where are you?" Duffy replied.
"Safe, for now." Murphy said cryptically. "What happened?"
"Dunno yet." Duffy said. He was standing just beyond the police tape. Murphy could just make him out in the glow of the street lights. "We're working on it."
"Is Blaise okay?" Murphy asked, eyeing his brother.
Connor's body stiffened as he listened to the important question Murphy was asking.
"She's not dead." Duffy answered. "I think."
"That's not very reassuring, Duffy." Murphy warned.
Connor moved to get up but Murphy held up his hand to halt his brother. Surprisingly, Connor listened.
"She's not here." Duffy continued. "It looks like there was a struggle, but there's no blood anywhere. And we haven't found a note yet. We're not sure what's happened, so sit tight. I'll let you know what I know when I know anything, all right?"
"Yeah, thanks." Murphy said glumly.
"Slainté." Duffy replied and hung up his phone.
"And?" Connor asked desperation creeping into the edges of his voice.
"They dunno." Murphy replied slowly. "She's just... gone. Taken, maybe."
"By who?" Connor asked. "It's not like she has any enemies. And no one knows about us except the Detectives."
Murphy shrugged. "We'll find her, Conn." He said reassuringly. "Promise."
Connor nodded and stood slowly. He picked up his bag and set his shoulders in grim determination. "Someone is gonna pay for this."
"Aye." Murphy replied, following suit. "For now, though, we need ta' get outta here before th' cops find us."
Hesitantly, Connor followed his brother into the shadows and the Saints disappeared into the night.