missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

"People don't just get into a fight over nothing with strangers," Meredith says, stumbling a little as she moves back toward him. "You are hurt and you could have been hurt worse." Maybe in the grand scheme of things, it is nothing, but that doesn't make it any less troubling that he could do this or just expect her to brush it off or that he could have been badly injured and not have a reason for it. She's wound up enough over the lingering idea of losing him that she can't deal with this one, stepping back again without trying to pull free yet.

"'M sorry," Sean mumbles, for worrying her if not for getting into a fight in the first place. No matter how much he might regret it in the morning, he hasn't yet started on that. He's still trying to tug her closer. "An' I wouldnae've gotten hurt worse, I know what I'm doin'."

"Stop it," Meredith says, refusing to budge now. There's a part of her that wants nothing more than to let him pull her closer, to hold on and not let go until she feels like less of a basket case for worrying about him, but it's overshadowed by a flash of anger. "I don't care if you know what you're doing, I want to know why you were doing it. I didn't know where you were or if something had happened to you and I don't know what's happening now. The least you can do is give me a straight answer."

Sean looks up at her for a moment before he finally drops her hand with a sigh. "What's happenin' now is that ye're pissed off at me o'er nothin' an' I thought the hard part o' me night was over. Honestly, there was no why to't, things got said an' it jus' sorta happened. I said I'm sorry, what more d'ye want?" It's not that whole silly set of rules that's keeping from just telling her, but rather the fact that he's pretty sure it would only raise a whole new set of questions out of her. He just wants this conversation to be over.

"Fine," Meredith says, lifting both hands in defeat, "if I'm what's making tonight difficult, I'll just go away. I'm sorry I asked." Turning on her heel, she walks out, headed for her office. Maybe she should just let it go — this isn't that, she knows that, this is making another problem — but this isn't nothing and she can't stick around to pretend it is, least of all if he's going to return her concern with that.

"Ach, Meredith!" Sean sharply calls before throwing himself back onto the bed with a groan. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he stays like that for long seconds, just listening to her leave, until he reluctantly drags himself to his feet and goes after her. "Dinnae be like that."

"Like what?" Meredith asks, turning around to face him, though it's tempting just to close the door behind her. "You said I was the hard part, so I made it easy." That might not be exactly what he said, but it's close enough. It's how it feels anyway.

"Ye ken what'd make it e'en easier? Nae stormin' off in a huff," Sean says automatically, too out of it to regret much of anything that comes out of his mouth. "That's nae what I said, jus'... will ye come on back?"

"No," Meredith says, "not if you're not going to listen to me." She's not cut out for this life. It's far from the first time she's thought it, but it still hurts every time. Sitting around at home, waiting to know what's going on, to be the last to know, she isn't meant for this. "You were gone. You go out drinking and getting into fights and I don't know what's going on, I don't know if you're coming back, and I'm not supposed to be worried? I'm not allowed to be concerned?"

Sean closes his eyes for a moment, reaching up to press the ball of his hand against his forehead as he lets that sink in, and when he looks back up at her, his expression softens and his words come slower, more deliberate. "I'm listenin' t'ye. An' ye had every right ta be concerned. That's why I apologized." Trying again, he reaches for her arm once more. "C'mon."

Meredith hesitates, not wanting to capitulate so easily when he's made her so mad, not wanting to fight when he's done enough of that for both of them tonight. Letting him take hold of her hand this time, she sighs and follows. "You can't just act like it's nothing," she says, quieter now. "It's not nothing to me."

Sean wants to press the issue, to tell that it is to him, but he holds his tongue and just heads back to the bedroom. "Okay," he says, quieter as well. "That's more like it."

Meredith shakes her head, still uncomfortable with all of this, as much with her own behavior as his. The vague explanation might be true, but it makes her uneasy all the same. "Sean, I'm serious," she says. "You could've been hurt a lot worse. You're not the only person around here who knows how to fight. How bad is it?"

"I told ye, I'm fine," Sean says, as reassuringly as he can. His tongue darts briefly over his split lip, still smarting, and he's sure he won't know the full extent of his injuries until tomorrow when he's really feeling them, but it's all certainly nothing she needs to worry herself over. "Jus' a li'l banged up, is all."

"Don't do that to me again," Meredith says, gingerly cupping his cheek. He's already laid the grounds for his own punishment, but she's not dropping the matter until she's had her say, even if she hasn't entirely figured out what that is. "Why is it I have to promise to be careful, but you can run off and get in a fight and it's supposed to be okay?"

Sean's expression hardens a little at that, serious but not unkind, and he covers her hand with his own, ignoring the slight pain even that causes. "I didnae land meself in the clinic, f'r one thing." It doesn't help that she's got a point, but this is something he feels he has to be firm on.

"I didn't get in a fight," Meredith says. "I got in an accident. Not the same." Even if she goes back and forth on whether that's true, on whether she couldn't have been fine if she'd made the choice to move faster, to move, it wasn't up to her in the end.

"Exactly," Sean says plainly, nudging her toward the bed as he makes to sit down again himself. "It's nae the same." If he'd said as much, she'd likely have gotten on his case for it.

Meredith watches him for any sign it's worse than he's letting on, still wary as she sits. "I mean you didn't have to fight," she says, then realizes she doesn't know how true that is. For all she knows, it isn't, but it still seems to her he could have got out of it if he'd tried. "I didn't choose it."

"An' I meant that I'll be good as new in a few days, nae still fightin' jus' ta take a deep breath," Sean says, unable to let her downplay what happened like that. Besides, maybe he didn't choose what happened tonight, either. He still isn't entirely sure how it happened. "Ye cannae compare the two."

Meredith glances away, shaking her head. He's right about that much, she knows that, but that doesn't make him right about the rest. She doesn't want to think about what happened, though. "So if I get in a fight tomorrow," she says, glancing over, "that counts as being careful? I mean, as long as I don't land myself in the clinic, it's okay, right?"

There is nothing, not one blessed thing, that Sean can say to that which won't make him come across as an enormous hypocrite, so he does what seems to his addled mind to be the next best thing. He plays it off, a small smirk just barely teasing at the edges of his mouth. "Do I get ta watch?"

"Oh, well, as long as my getting hurt's entertaining for you," Meredith says, "then I guess it must be okay." Shaking her head, she draws away to sit at the head of the bed, legs drawn up against her. It's tempting just to bolt again if he's going to behave like this, but she's intent on holding her ground a little longer.

"Oh, c'mon, 'm only teasin'," Sean says, drawing in a sharp breath as he pulls himself more fully onto the bed and crawls awkwardly over to where she's sitting. "I'm sorry, it's jus'... it's been a long day an' I jus' want ta come home an' spend a nice night wi' ye." Why should that be so much to ask?

"Then you should've come home sooner," Meredith says, looking over at him. "Preferably before you got in a fight." And before she started panicking. She turns toward him instead of saying so, still sulking but shifting closer anyway. "It's the same and you know it. And if this were me, you'd be furious. Did you at least get ice or something for your bruises?"

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