missingthekeep | Homeplot: I Loved Her First

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Homeplot: I Loved Her First

The second time that Sean sets out at the crack of dawn, it's with considerably more determination and with a far different attitude. The days since his breakdown certainly haven't been easy, but every day the pain grows a little duller, seems a little further away. He'll always miss Maeve fiercely, always regret so much about what happened to her, but he's got other things to live for now, and that's not anything he should feel guilty about. She took a piece of him with her when she died, but he's always been able to stand as his own man, and he's kept a piece of her with him, as well. He'll get by.

More important than his pain abating with the days, perhaps, is the fact that the days continue to pass with a stunning regularity. They rapidly turn into weeks, with Sean and Meredith still solidly back in the real world, not a beach or palm tree in sight. It's too good to be true, but even a healthy dose of skepticism can only go so far when a man's every sense other than his gut is telling him something's real. So when the day finally comes that he can no longer treat this as a mere temporary reprieve, he becomes a man on a mission. If this is real (even now, even as he commits himself to the idea, the almighty if remains important), the time to continue shirking his responsibilities has passed.

He doesn't like the idea of leaving Meredith alone while he runs off (all in the name of duty, as always, boyo), but taking her along with him as he tracks down his errant cousin just isn't an option. He needs to be smart about this, efficient and safe, and these aren't traits that he tends to possess when Meredith's involved. Besides, he's pretty sure that she likes it even less, so he can't complain. Instead, he just promises to return within the week and prays that she'll be safe on her own in the meantime. Anything can happen, and it usually does, but treating her like a china doll to be coddled and fussed over is no way to begin their life together. He has to trust that she can take care of herself, no matter how much the act of leaving hits way too close to issues he's still working his way through.

He finds Tom on his very first night out, tucked snugly away in one of his nicer hidey holes, a drab but spacious apartment in Galway, no doubt funded through all manner of dark dealings. There's a fight, of course, but it's mostly just a formality. Tom never questions how Sean found out about Terry, and he never bothers to pretend that he has any real claim to be raising her. Hell, maybe it's for her safety that the other man never goes all out in taking Sean to task for coming to take her away. Maybe he really does care for her. It doesn't matter. He's come to take his daughter home, to wipe all the crime and the alcohol and the hurt clean from her life before she even has to go through it all. There are complexities and tricky questions about the child in his arms and the woman he once knew who'll never exist now that he'll have to address eventually, but for the first time in either of their lives, he knows that he's doing what's right with regards to Theresa. Tom doesn't enter into it. Their mutual hatred was well-earned on both sides, and it's far too late to do anything about that.

He's back before even three days elapse, most of it due to his taking the roads a lot slower once he's no longer traveling alone. That's one promise kept. A good start, he thinks as he arrives home and heads inside with a small, squalling bundle in his arms. Now comes the hard part: everything else.

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Eventually, Meredith knows, she'll have to figure out something to do with herself, some way she can go on being a doctor, because she doesn't do well with empty days. She's grown steadily more accustomed to life here, so when Sean heads off to find Theresa, staying alone in the Keep doesn't seem quite so daunting, but even so, it's a relief when he returns, sooner even than expected. There are still issues surrounding all this she doesn't quite know how to deal with, so she ignores them as best she can and hopes they'll somehow take care of themselves or just disappear, and as she hurries over to where he is, she can tell herself they don't much matter now. He's got Theresa, and though that was to be expected, though she knew he wouldn't come back without his daughter, it still surprises her a little.

"You're back," she says warmly, but she only kisses his cheek, not wanting to get the baby caught between the pair of them. It is incredibly strange to look at the child and know what she'll look like over twenty years from now, to know she was a friend in some other time; there's nothing of that on her tiny, chubby face now. "Both of you."

Sean's overwhelmed and kind of terrified in spite of all his conviction, but Meredith's greeting, just seeing her again, is more than enough to get him smiling. Theresa's fussing noisily, grabbing up at Meredith's hair as she gets closer, her eyes wide and alert. They're a little more blue than he's used to, but colour aside, she always did have her mother's eyes.

"Aye," he replies, carefully shifting her in his arms. "Miss me?" As if there were ever a more inappropriate time for small talk.

Meredith laughs, reaching up to loosen Theresa's grip on her hair. There are some babies that really aren't as adorable as everyone pretends they are, and maybe she's biased or maybe it's just she knows the kid grows up to be beautiful or maybe, maybe, it's just that she's Sean's, but this isn't one of those babies. "Very much," she says, glancing back up at him. "I get bored stupid when you're not here. Was she hard to find?"

Sean shakes his head, never taking his eyes off the baby for more than a second or two. How could anyone? Knowingly, he means. "No," he says, his voice steady, not betraying the unease he feels over his answer. "They weren't e'en hidin', nae really." She was always there, just waiting for him to come and get her. All those wasted years, when all he ever had to do was just open his eyes and look.

"Well, good," Meredith says. It brought him home sooner, it brought Theresa back to him sooner, so it couldn't be anything else, no matter how nervous she is about the prospect of being even partially responsible for the girl's upbringing. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she steps back. "Come on, we should get her settled in. I'm sure you could both use the rest."

Sean nods, sticking close to Meredith's side. "Honestly, I think this is the longest she's gone without wailin' since I went an' got her." There's one readily evident thing that she picked up from him other than his hair, at least. "Nae that I blame her, o' course. Did Mrs. McKinnon tidy the nursery like I asked?"

"She did," Meredith says, nodding. "It's all ready for her. And I'd be wailing, too, if someone'd come and carried me off out of nowhere like that." She grins, leading the way, not at all bothered by what she's said. Theresa's so young, the transition won't matter soon enough; children adapt to everything so quickly. It's nice to think she's calmed down some because she's home, but there's no reason to believe it. It's a good sign even so, or so she hopes.

It's not that Sean's bothered by her words, but they're so close to all the things that he's been carefully glossing over in his head that he can't help but dwell on them. "She's doesnae know me," he says, taking the stairs at a far slower pace than his usual. "I'm jus' some stranger to her."

"Right now," Meredith says. It's not something she's worried about, but then, this isn't her child; there's no reason for her to expect Theresa to know her yet. That won't stop her from doing her best. "She's an infant, Sean. Even if she'd just been born, you'd be a stranger. Babies adapt so fast; she'll know you soon enough."

"Right," Sean says with a nod, put at least somewhat at ease by that. It still seems wrong, somehow, but it's one of those things that just can't be helped, and now he's putting it right. "Right, o' course. I'm jus'... I dinnae ken what the hell I'm doin' wi' all this, ye know?"

"And I am the last person on earth to be able to tell you where to start," Meredith says wryly. "But you'll get the hang of it. You're her father and you love her. You'll be fine." She's less certain about herself, but that isn't the point now. The effort has to be worth something, her being here has to be worth something. They can make this work. She just has to keep telling herself that and trying.

"Right," Sean says again, sounding more and more like a broken record while damn near missing the top step in his extraordinary focus. "Right, ye're right. O' course ye're right. I am, an' I do, so... right." Theresa, for her part, continues to fuss. There's so much riding on him now, and he can't afford to fail her again. They'll be fine, all of them.

Meredith rests a hand on his arm as they reach the top, automatic, to steady him. "You're cute when you're nervous," she says lightly. "You'll figure it out as you go, alright?" She's honestly not worried about him, though she's sure he is. This means too much for him, he takes it too seriously, for him to falter so badly as he might think. Granted, the thought isn't all that counts here, but she still believes in him. Reaching over, she offers a finger for Theresa to latch onto, brushing it along her arm. "It's okay, you're home now."

Sean figures that he was imagining things when Terry seemed to calm a bit during their return to the Keep, but it's definitely no coincidence when she quiets down immediately at Meredith's touch, wrapping her entire hand around one finger. "I am nae," he protests, but he can't keep from beaming at the two of them, which he's sure lessens the impact somewhat. "D'ye think she remembers the place?"

"Maybe she does," Meredith says, smiling. It's remarkable how so small a touch can be so pleasing, especially when she knows infants will latch on to anything. There's no logical reason at all for it, but she still can't help being taken with it. "Stranger things have happened and they're smarter than we give them credit for. Strong, too."

Sean nods at that, just as taken with the sight of the two of them as Theresa lightly shakes Meredith's hand about. "She really is," he says under his breath, still smiling. "She's been through so much already, an' jus' look at her."

"You see?" Meredith says, glancing up with a grin. "She'll be fine, you both will. She's her father's daughter." She allows Theresa to shake her hand around, her own grasp limp, as she pushes open the nursery door with her free hand. It's going to take time and effort to adjust, but more and more, she's started to feel in earnest the things she's been saying, as if she's managing to convince herself.

"I s'pose she is," Sean says, easing carefully into the room. Maeve's touch is everywhere in here, one part of their life together that he never got the chance to be a real part of. "She always was," he amends after a moment to take it all in. Maybe that's why it never worked out between them.

"So don't worry so much." Granted, it's the kind of thing that requires a lot of worrying, raising a kid, though Meredith reasons she's doing enough for both of them as it is. It's all the more reason to get him to relax. "You've had her a couple days, right, no problems? Just one day at a time."

"One day at a time," Sean repeats with a nod, trying the words out for himself. So far, so good, anyway. "D'ye want ta hold her?"

It's ridiculous to hesitate, Meredith knows. There's no reason to think she'd drop Theresa or somehow get it wrong; she's steadier than that and it's a simple thing to do. All the same, for a moment, she does, finding the prospect daunting. "Of course," she says, shaking her head and holding out her arms to take her.

Even with the pause, Sean grins as he carefully (so damn carefully) shifts Theresa into Meredith's arms, taking a small step back afterward as if he's passed her a bomb as the girl babbles monosyllabically. "Look at that," he breaths, a quiet huff of laughter quickly following. "She already likes ye better'n me."

"She does not," Meredith protests, but she laughs a little anyway, swaying slowly back and forth. Supporting her carefully, she taps a finger lightly against Theresa's nose, drawing her hand back from grabby little hands. "She's adorable." Precious, even, and fast separating herself from the woman Meredith knew. How the hell she's supposed to help raise this tiny person, she doesn't know, but now she's holding onto her, she can barely look away.

"Saints, isn't she just?" Sean asks, practically enraptured by the sight of the two of them together. He'd been a little concerned, honestly, finding himself remembering clearer than ever before all the bittersweet feelings that seeing her with Madeline had always brought on, but this is completely different. There's nothing complicated or oddly painful about any of it, it's just right, maybe because it's no longer some unattainable dream that he dare not acknowledge. It's all actually happening this time. "Certainly didnae get that from me. An' she does, too, listen to her jabberin' away at ye. She ne'er did that f'r me."

"Maybe because you're so tense," teases Meredith, though she's nervous herself. Despite the responsibility she bears in all this, she's tried to avoid any sense that this is meant to be hers, too, that this belongs to her. He's her family and Theresa is his, but she isn't Theresa's mother and can't be, that's been clear enough since he first brought it up. Besides, she's told herself, she never wanted children. Actually holding Theresa in her arms, though, listening to her prattle on, it would be hard not to love her. She smiles down at the baby, wrinkling up her nose a little. "It's okay, I think he's just a little scared of you."

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