missingthekeep | Christmas Eve [for Meredith]

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Christmas Eve [for Meredith]

Sean's so nervous, he thinks he might pass out. He was expecting to be nervous, of course, he was anxious as sin the last time he tried something as insane as this with the last woman to cross his path, but this... this really goes above and beyond. Fortunately, in the years since his last proposal of marriage, he's gotten a hell of a lot better at hiding how nervous he is, so the only outward show of it he allows is some fidgeting with the ring in his jacket pocket. It doesn't help much.

It's a good ring, he thinks. Fancy and pretty without overdoing it. He'll want something a little more personal than what he could scrounge from the Pond woman's stash for the final things, but as an engagement ring, it does nicely. Would that he were so confident about the rest of this, especially when he has every reason to be. This isn't about how lousy everything else in his life is right now, this is about him and Meredith, nothing else. And they're good. They're better than good, occasional hiccups aside. He wants this, she wants this, and they're great, they're solid. How could this possibly be the wrong thing to do, the wrong time to do it?

It isn't, he tells himself for the thirtieth time. Besides, it's already been weeks since she told him she was ready, that she was finally and fully ready to marry him. How much longer does he really have?

Right.

Right.

"Nice night, innit?" he asks with a smile, trying to keep up the charade that he dragged her out to the snow-covered beach for nothing more than a walk on Christmas Eve as long as he's able.

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"Fine," Sean brusquely replies, since she's not the only one who he feels like he needs to convince right now. As long as he keeps putting one foot in front of the other, he'll be alright, but that seems like some Herculean task at the moment and he has to relent at least a little. "Cold."

"Well, you would think so," Meredith says, watching the path. She hates this part of love, the way her already changeable moods are so much at the mercy of someone else's; that good cheer's come crashing to a halt, but she keeps going. Even in its mangled state, missing pieces, the motorcycle's heavy, one more reason to wish they hadn't come this way at this time. The time and place don't really matter, though, she knows. These things happen one way or another regardless. "At least it's not too far."

"Small favours," Sean mutters, and while he wants to speak as little as possible right now, it's probably a smart idea to at least try, to keep himself from retreating entirely into his own head until they're home. It's hard enough keeping himself from constantly adjusting his grip on the thing, knowing full well that it's going to do nothing to lessen the sting of frigid metal under his hands. "Blizzard's got nothin' on this, though."

It's Meredith's turn to be silent, unsure how to reply. She always hates not knowing what to say to him. It's rare enough to feel like another personal affront. She might be holding onto not knowing now — it's not the place for asking questions, out here and on the move — but she'll push until she gets an answer later, because the not knowing makes her resent everything. It eats away at her nerves and wears her out. She pulls her arm away to hold on with both hands. "Only because you got all wet," she says, more tired than anything else. "At least we can see."

Sean doesn't reply, because bringing up the blizzard has managed to make him remember what he came out here for in the first place for the first time since he figured out what was in the water. Now he does change his grip on the bike, slowing his pace and shifting to free up one hand so he can frantically scrabble at his pocket for a moment, his expression deceptively level.

The ring's gone.

It's impossible to miss that something's up, though at least it seems less like trouble. Meredith almost asks if everything's okay, but it isn't and she's a lot of things, but dumb enough to actually ask that isn't one of them. "What is it?" she asks instead, leaning forward a little to look at him as she walks.

Sean looks blankly over at her for a second before he steels his expression and speeds back up. "Nothin'," he says, shaking his head. How could he have been so careless? For that matter, how could he have ever thought this would be a good idea in the first place? Everything he touches turns to shite, he should know that by now. "Nothin', I jus' forgot somethin', is all."

"Okay." Meredith's not entirely sure she believes that, but she's not certain she isn't just making things up now either, looking for more problems. She walks a little quicker, trying to match him, doing her best to block out those thoughts. It's too easy to let her mind wander, to try and come up with explanations for all this, all hopefully worse than the truth, and that needs to stop. She grips the metal tighter. She can't afford to indulge the side of her prone to wading out ever deeper now. "Something we need to look for or something at home?"

Sean just shakes his head again, mouth pressed into a thin line. "I'll worry 'bout it later," he says, and to be fair, it's not actually a lie. Although maybe 'worry' is the wrong word for what he'll be doing.

Meredith glances sidelong at him and nods. "Okay." She's not sure why she holds onto this, going quiet to keep herself from pushing. It's sometimes worse than whatever comes to pass, this lull before the inevitable break, when she can feel it like electricity on the air before a storm, knowing there's something ahead — a falling apart, a fight, worse. Still she just watches the path, looking for the familiar signs they're almost home.

Sean can't think about what comes next, can't think about anything beyond the next few painful steps and how they'll hopefully add up to enough to get him inside where his past isn't currently sucking all the potential out of his present. He doesn't speak again for the duration of the walk.

Meredith doesn't trouble to ask him what he wants to do with the thing. There are lines she has to draw and bringing it inside to drip all over the floor, a visible, tangible symbol of whatever the hell it's a symbol of, is one of them. She just waits until they're at a reasonable spot in the yard and starts to set it down. If he wants to try beyond that, he can damn well do it alone. "Shh, Doc, quiet," she scolds, though he barks again for good measure before he slinks off. She sighs and looks at Sean as she starts for the door. "You should get changed. Dry off. I'll put on a fire."

Edited 2010-12-11 10:56 (UTC)

Again, Sean doesn't reply right away, and while he hesitates before setting the bike down, it comes as nothing but a relief when he does. "Yeah, o-okay," he forces himself to speak after a few seconds, his shivering causing him to stammer embarrassingly, but he doesn't actually make a move toward the door just yet.

Meredith stands in the open doorway, expectant. When Doc dashes up to come in out of the cold, she doesn't bother turning him out either. Though there's a doghouse for him now that came with the snow, she doesn't have it in her to waste energy on the dog now. "Come on," she says, waving for him to follow her. If she has to wait for him to make sure he doesn't stand in the yard all night, she will. "You need to warm up."

Sean gives a tiny shake of his head, but he's not sure what exactly it is he's protesting. Her concern isn't unjustified, but he's caught again, staring like an idiot, trying to tell himself that a mass of metal is just a mass of metal, nothing more, and failing miserably. Maybe standing in the yard all night is exactly what he needs right now, exactly what he deserves. "I'll be in in a m-minute," he says, not looking away.

"Whatever you wanna do can wait until you're dry," Meredith says. She doesn't want to go in without him, some small part of her very quietly, very desperately afraid that, if she does, he'll vanish or take off. For all her badgering, though, there's only so much she can do and she's not going to pick a fight over this when they probably don't need the help. The calm's already slipping again. "Be quick. Please. Don't make me come back out here for you." With that, she closes the door slowly and makes herself take Doc to get settled in her office for the night.

Once he's alone, Sean crouches next to the motorcycle, running his fingers along it until his hand comes to rest on the seat. He's not sure how long he stays there like that, paying his respects or whatever the hell it is he's doing, but it's a while. Now that he's alone, he's lost a lot of that edginess that's been dogging him, but he's also more aware of things. Maybe he's calmer, but he can also feel the way the bottom of his world is threatening to tip out from under him while he just stands there, waiting to fall.

It's only the cold that drags him back to his feet, a slight shift of his weight alerting him to the way his wet jeans are starting to stiffen. He doesn't want to leave it out there, some strange paranoia making him wonder if it will still be there in the morning or if it will be gone again as surely as if he'd let the ocean take it, but he can't stay out there forever. Slowly, haggardly, he hauls himself up and heads inside.

It doesn't make sense that the sound of the door opening should make her more worried, not less. Meredith's had time to get Doc settled in, time enough to get herself settled if she'd wanted it, but she hasn't troubled to change her clothes, only half-conscious she's keeping herself prepared to run either away or after. Sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, she hasn't managed to get it lit yet; she keeps getting distracted by her thoughts and forgetting she means to do it at all. He steps inside and something twists inside her. "I'm almost done," she says, pushing another log around needlessly before she reaches for the matches.

Sean nods absently, almost dazed as he lets his jacket lay where it falls on the floor and heads past her to the bedroom, already peeling his shirt off as he goes. "Thanks," he murmurs quietly before he shuts the door behind him and starts getting himself something to wear.

It takes a couple tries before Meredith gets it to catch, prodding at logs and paper with the poker to get the flame to spread. For a moment, as he heads away, she regrets saying something so simple, so unnecessary and non-confrontational. If he would just yell, if he'd be angry, she could deal with that, but she's never sure how to handle this, not sure she can pull off supportive when she wants to start yelling herself. Instead she waits, tending the fire, giving him a few minutes to finish up and come out on his own.

Somehow, it all hurts more now that he's inside, but even with the tingling pain spreading across his skin, getting out of his wet clothes is a relief like none other. He doesn't bother bundling up, knowing that it would be pointless with the fire going, so he just pulls on a nice, dry t-shirt and some sweatpants before sitting himself down on the bed to recoup. He knows he can't stay long before she'll come pestering him, but he needs another minute to himself just as much as he knows he's going to need her right after it.

A few minutes ago, he thought he'd be engaged by now. But then, a few years ago, he thought he'd still be married, so what does he know?

"Christ, Cassidy, it's jus' a stupid bike, get yer head on straight," he mutters to himself as he forces himself back to his feet and out to where she's waiting for him. She's always waiting for him.

Meredith's on the verge of letting Doc out just to have company, though she left him in the other room to keep him from getting in the way. The last thing she needs is someone else to mind right now, but she doesn't want to be alone. Still, in spite of that and her earlier regrets, when he comes back out and she looks up over her shoulder at him, she doesn't know what to say. Nothing's even happened and she's already wound tight, knowing something will, trying to steel herself preemptively against it, to make herself ready to handle whatever it is he needs her to bear. "Hey," she says and pats the floor near her. "A little better?"

"Li'l bit," Sean replies dully, though he's still shivering and feeling far unsteadier on his feet than he'll ever admit. His heart's hammering in his chest from the strain, something he's only just now noticing, and he winces as he eases himself down to the floor beside her and tries to get used to the harsh heat pouring off of the fire.

Meredith reaches for his hand, holding it between both of her own for a moment before checking his pulse, the gesture absent though she's intent on making sure he's better before they make things worse. "I wish you hadn't done that," she says, quietly scolding. Mostly she wishes she'd kept walking the other way. "It was stupid and dangerous and you could do some serious damage to yourself that way. Hypothermia isn't exactly fun, believe me. Are you still cold?"

"Frozen," Sean admits, too worn down for any more false bravado, but he shrugs it off. "Warmin' up, though." Just far too slowly for his liking. He could get annoyed at her attitude, but it seems far more trouble than it's worth, and oddly, it almost comes as a comfort.

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