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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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.

"Good." Meredith squeezes his hand and gets to her feet. "Hold on a moment." It's the work of a minute for her to head to their room to retrieve a blanket and, after some hesitation, a drink. Coming back out, she hands him the one before draping the other over his shoulders and high around his neck. "There," she says. "Now are we gonna talk about what that was?"

It's about as far as it gets from how he thought he'd be spending the night, but for one split second as she puts the blanket over him, it feels kind of perfect, anyway. It's over almost immediately, the rest of it crashing back around him with a vengeance a moment later, but it's something. God, she's good to him.

He tries to answer her, but he can't think of anything to say. There's something he needs to get out of the way, first. "C'mere," he says, setting his drink down on the floor before turning to pull her into a tight embrace. He needs to feel her right now. He needs to feel her and breathe her in and remember that everything he loves in his life isn't long gone, it's right here.

Meredith freezes, not expecting that at all, and then she slips her arms around him and closes her eyes, just holding on. It stings, realizing all over again that she's more prepared for disaster than affection. No matter how many times she thinks she's made herself okay, she just never really gets better. "It's alright," she murmurs, rubbing circles against his back, though she still suspects that's a lie. It'll become alright. They just need a little time. "It's okay."

Sean nods against her shoulder, not believing that for an instant but unable to disagree. She doesn't know the whole story and she's never going to, and if that means she thinks this will be okay, then so be it. There's no way he can ever tell her what he brought her out there for, about the ring that's probably sitting at the bottom of the ocean now. He could barely bring himself to tell her before all of this went down, so for her, it's going to have to be okay. Eventually, slowly, he draws back with a sigh, forcing a small, wan smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. It's fine."

"But not really," Meredith says softly, touching his cheek as she sits back. There's no need to pretend it's a question. Something's wrong. Whatever it is, though, it's not so intractable as she started to make herself think. She isn't about to let him sink into silence and dismiss it as nothing just because of a hug, even if she wishes it could be nothing, even if she knows she ought to get her guard up again while she can. "Are you gonna talk to me, Sean?"

Sean sighs, getting settled again and taking a long drink before he even tries to answer her. At least that's one burning feeling he can always count on to makes things better instead of worse.

"It's jus' one o' those things," he says, shaking his head and staring into the fire as he pulls the blanket closer around him. "Ye know how 'tis, jus' this place tryin' ta get t'me. An'... succeedin', I s'pose."

"You suppose." Meredith almost laughs. As if there's any doubt it's got to him. "You scared me a little out there," she says. "That's all I get, it's 'one of those things'?" She doesn't expect every last detail, not when getting him to talk can be tough on a decent day; just because she winds up blurting out almost every little thing is no reason he should have to. She deserves more than that, though, if only because she can think of about nine ways that's total crap and because she knows she'll just decide it's something horrible.

"I'm sorry," Sean says as he bows his head a bit, meaning it wholeheartedly and for a whole lot of different things, most of which he couldn't put a name to if he tried. "I didnae mean ta scare ye."

"I know you didn't," Meredith sighs. It's something, but it's not enough. She doesn't want to have to coax every bit of the story out of him, not when she's not even sure she wants to know. The frustration's creeping back in, though, and anyway, she can't leave him alone with whatever this is. "You're seriously not going to tell me anything?"

"I didnae say that," Sean says, holding back the urge to snap. The problem isn't telling her what's wrong, it's talking about this at all, because it's all something that he just doesn't talk about. "It's Maeve's, a'right? Was."

Jaw set, Meredith looks away. It's not exactly surprising after this much time left with just her imagination to figure it out, but that doesn't make it hurt less (she always feels guilty for that. What right does she have to be upset by something like that?). "Alright," she says. There's really nothing else she can say. It's his wife's. Suddenly she's not really sure why she thought she'd ever get to call herself that.

Sean's prepared to leave it at that, if only it were that simple. She wanted an answer and she got one, there's nothing left to say, but the silence that follows feels more oppressive than the tension from before he spoke, and he finds himself needing to fill it with something, anything to keep from going back to that.

"She loved that damn bike."

Meredith wants to say she doesn't give a damn what Maeve did or didn't love. She doesn't want to know about her, not anything, though the not knowing makes it easier to imagine she was utterly perfect in every way. It's better if she stays a blank. Instead she makes a noise, some hum of agreement, blank herself. "Couldn't just leave it," she says. "Right." That seems blatantly unfair after the way he acted about the stupid ring she found, but she doesn't want to think about that either, about any of it, about anything.

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