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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It's not okay at all, but Sean's silence serves as a decent enough statement of that as anything else and he eventually sits back up, staring into the fire again. "What'm I goin' ta do with it?"

Meredith hopes fervently he'll just get rid of it, even after that whole charade of dragging it back, but she doesn't believe for a second that he will. She should go, she should leave, but nothing's changed in a year. Being second-best is still better than anything else she's ever had. "I don't know," she says. "It's a wreck, what can you do with it?"

"Nae much," Sean morosely admits, but he can't just leave it at that. "M-maybe I could rebuild it? Ye know, see what sort o' parts that scrapyard has layin' 'round. Or... or somethin'."

"You could," Meredith says, suddenly casual, even blasé, and on her feet before she realizes she's moving. It's not even upsetting anymore. She's crossed right over into it being too much to handle, numbed by the ache as she heads for their room. This is what shock is for, the body taking over when it should be unbearable. "I'm getting a drink."

Sean feels a pang as she gets up and walks away, but he's not entirely sure why. It's not as if he can't relate to the urge. "Could ye top me up, too?" he calls after her.

Meredith doesn't answer. She doesn't know if her voice will stand for it now or if she'll just wind up yelling at him and she doesn't want to, not right now. She needs a moment alone, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, trying not to think. Breathing slowly in and out, she just wants some quiet in her head, a chance to try and keep these things from making her any crazier than they already have so she can remind herself again that he loves her. She gets herself a drink. She doesn't come out.

Even only a few minutes removed from his own brief, ignored need for isolation, it doesn't occur to Sean that this is what that is, and when she fails to materialize after what should have been more than enough time, he doesn't hesitate to speak up. "Meredith?"

She still doesn't want to answer. She keeps thinking that she doesn't know what to do, but she doesn't know why she has to do something either. Her drink's half gone and she doesn't really remember that happening. Filling it back up, she heads out as far as the doorway, his request already forgotten, her brow raised in question. She said she was getting a drink. She never said she'd come back with it.

Bugging her to grab him another drink slips a little further down Sean's list of concerns for the moment, and he gives her a confused look as she just stands there. "Wh- what're ye doin'?"

Meredith actually smiles, just for a second, as close as she'll let herself get to laughing at that. God, like she hasn't been wondering the same goddamn thing. She just shrugs and shakes her head, holds up her glass. "Getting a drink," she says. She wants so much to go to him, not to leave him alone at a time like this, but she's having trouble actually believing he needs her.

Sean just casts a despondent look at his still-empty glass before he glances back at her and frowns, too worn down and mentally scattered to get it. "Were ye plannin' on comin' back?"

Meredith opens her mouth to answer, but doesn't, huffing out a breath. "I don't know," she says finally. "I just... needed a minute. And you have a motorcycle to fix, so..." She presses her tongue hard against her teeth, looking away as the ache flares up in her chest again. She can't look at him and think of this and be okay.

The confusion in Sean's features gives way to hurt at that, although her comment really just confuses him more than ever. "Well, I wasnae 'bout ta start right this instant," he says, voice hardening a bit.

The trouble, Meredith realizes as she sips her drink, isn't so much that she hasn't got anything to say. It's that she has a lot of very terrible things to say and she doesn't intend to say any of them (except if she says nothing, things just get worse). He's got enough to deal with without trying to convince her that everything's as it ought to be with them, least of all when she knows she can't be convinced. "No, right," she says, "of course. Well, I'm here now."

Sean should just leave it at that, accept it and try to move on with the rest of his inevitably miserable night. He can't, though. Something's wrong, and try as he might, he can't ignore it, not right now when he feels like he's an inch away from shattering.

"Well, it doesnae feel like ye are."

Meredith just wants to shake sense into him until he understands. If she's not here, it's because she can't be. "I'm sorry," she says, heavy, and just saying it, just letting herself look at him for a moment, makes her throat tight again. That thing's going to sit in her yard every day as she goes out and comes home, a reminder; no matter how much time passes or where she goes, she's still in love with someone else's husband. "I just... can't. I... I can't help you decide what to do with it, I can't... I'm not a part of this."

"Ye're nae..." Sean starts before trailing off with a shake of his head, frustration rising at the way he suddenly feels like some sort of emotional cripple for not understanding any of this. "It obviously concerns ye, I'd say that makes ye a part of it." She's a part of him, after all, and this... well, this is just him. She's always known that.

"How does it concern me?" Meredith asks, gesturing toward him with her glass. "It's yours. It's hers. It's nothing to do with me. Do with it what you want." What the hell is she supposed to do, tell him to get rid of it? She can't, she's not heartless. This would be a lot easier if she were. Besides, she doesn't have the right.

"Ye goin' ta look me in the eye an' tell me ye dinnae care a whit 'bout any o' this?" Sean brusquely asks, and while he knows that's not what she said, he's trying to make a point, here.

"I didn't say that," Meredith snaps, looking at him just to prove she can though it's not what he asked. "Of course I care. I can't —" She cuts herself off before she can break, gritting her teeth then taking a deep breath. "I care. But it isn't up to me. I'm not going to tell you what to do with your wife's belongings."

"I wasnae askin' ye to decide fer me, I was jus' askin' what ye thought," Sean replies lowly, trying for all the world to make it sound like a simple explanation as opposed to a rebuttal.

"And I said it's up to you," Meredith answers. She knows she's not being fair, but nothing about this is just or alright. He seems so far away now, but she can't make herself move closer. "I don't want anything to do with it."

Once again, Sean can't quite pin down why that should hurt so much to hear, but this time, he nips it in the bud and closes himself off before he goes about embarrassing himself some more. "Fine," he grits out, turning back to the fire. If she wants so badly for him to bear his burdens alone, then he will.

"Fine." Meredith doesn't leave, though. She leans back against the doorframe, sipping her drink, an arm folded against her. She doesn't know how to claw her way out of this one. Whatever she does, she'll ruin everything. Try as she might to harden herself against that, it just makes her sick, wearing her down until she's just tired and sad again. "I don't want it here," she chokes out, pushing off the wall and back into the bedroom.

Any attempts he made to steel himself must have been half-hearted ones at best, because the instant he hears that, he's turning in a rush, a hand splayed against the floor to steady himself. "Well, what am I s'posed ta do?" he calls after her, nearly yelling.

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