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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"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."

"I am nae," Sean protests stubbornly, but it's not exactly something he's about to get worked up over. It'd be difficult to get worked up over anything right about now, not when there isn't a single part of this that doesn't tug at his heart in all the right ways. He does feel a slight melancholy that he never got to see Maeve with her daughter, but it's distant, somehow unrelated to this perfect moment right here. Reaching over, he wiggles his fingers in front of Theresa's face for a second with a sound that's something in between a sigh and a laugh. "Well. Maybe a wee bit."

"As I'm sure you've noticed," Meredith says, continuing to address the child, "your father is a very silly man." She glances up at him, grinning. "She's a baby. And she's going to adore you, so just... enjoy it. Until there are real problems to worry about." There will be plenty of those along the way, she's sure. They may as well be happy while the peace lasts.

Since Sean's sure there will be plenty of those (even skipping over all of the hard years, he still managed to screw up, after all), he just bites his lip and nods. It occurs to him, then, seeing the way that Meredith goes on with the girl, that considering the female company Tom's been known to keep in the last few years, she's got to be the most maternal thing Theresa's seen since the day the world came down around her ears. He shouldn't need it, but the extra boost that gives to his assurance that he did the right thing in taking her home counts for a lot. "I'm gonna do right by ye no matter what ye throw at me," he says, drumming his fingers lightly against her chest. "Everythin' that came before... none of it matters now." Turning his gaze back up to Meredith, he grins. "See, I c'n enjoy a thing while still bein' scared stiff."

"Good," Meredith says, "'cause you've got a whole lot of that ahead." Somehow, she doesn't mind that. It's part of being a parent, part of actually being around for a child, and, whatever he may think to the contrary, she knows he'll be good at it. He cares too much to leave for good or be only half-available, like her parents.

Here's hoping.

"Ah, long as I've got ye, I c'n take on the world, ye should know that by now," Sean says, leaning over and around Terry to kiss Meredith's cheek. "Long as I've got the two o' ye now, I s'pose."

"The two of us," Meredith agrees. She can't pretend she doesn't like that, in spite of all her protests. Maybe she isn't cut out for this, but there's nothing for it now but to jump in and do her damnedest to do right by Theresa all the same. With a little luck, she might not even be so bad at it. She glances down again, smiling. "You really think she likes me?"

"Like father, like daughter," Sean replies cheekily, as if the way Theresa seems perfectly content in her arms doesn't speak for itself. "It's nae too strange, is it?" he asks, with a sudden slight shift in his demeanor. "Ye know, knowin' her before, an' all?"

"What's really strange is, it isn't," Meredith says, brow furrowing as she shakes her head. "I thought it'd be weirder, but... she's just a baby. It's kind of hard to see her as someone I knew. Like starting all over again. Maybe it will be when she's older, but right now... no." Biting her lip, she looks up. "What happens when she gets older? What is she supposed to call me? I'm not her mother and Meredith is a lot of syllables for a little mouth, trust me. We're starting all this and I don't know what I'm supposed to be."

Sean doesn't have any answers for her, just as lost in all this for all that he should probably have some kind of head start. He shakes his head, coming around to her side to slip his arm around her, gaze flicking back and forth between her and Theresa. "I s'pose that's up t'ye. What d'ye want ta be called?"

"I don't know," Meredith says, shaking her head, leaning closer to him. It shouldn't matter, when Susan was kinder to her than her own mother ever was; there's nothing wrong with being the step-mother, raising someone else's child. She'll love her just the same. It's just going to take some time, she thinks, to accustom herself to raising Maeve's daughter, something she's much more aware of now they're here and Theresa's so young. "I just want to get this right."

"Ye an' I both," Sean says softly, holding Meredith close while running the fingertips of his free hand gently along Theresa's arm, still grasping blindly even as her chattering quiets into the occasional murmur. "But ye'll be a good mother to her, no matter what she calls ye. I know't."

"Is that what I am?" Meredith asks. It's not fair, really, if she thinks about it, because she starts to feel she's stolen everything, but, though she's as surprised as anyone else, she wants it. Theresa deserves a hell of a lot better, but she's got Meredith instead, so she intends to do her best, which starts with trying to keep the worry from her voice so the baby doesn't pick up on it. "I don't know how to be a mother."

"O-only if'n ye want it," Sean quickly says, not doing nearly as good a job as her at keeping his concern tucked neatly away. Theresa starts to fuss again, though, and he does his best to knock it off. "I mean, nobody's gonna force ye ta... I dinnae think anyone really knows how right off the bat. I sure as hell dinnae ken what I'm doin', bein' a father, an' I've had years ta get used to the idea."

Meredith shakes her head quickly, turning her attention back to Theresa for a few moments. "Shh, it's fine," she says, admittedly a bit distracted, but hoping she sounds convincing enough for an infant. "And I do, I — I do want it. I want that." She'll just have to try like hell to be good enough for it. "I think it's different when you start when they're actually babies. You have a little more room to figure it out."

Sean's smile returns in an instant and he tips his head to kiss her again, light and quick, his relief palpable. He always had a feeling that she'd come around on the idea, he just never dreamed that she'd ever get such a good reason to. "Saints, I hope so," he huffs, shaking his head slightly. He's in way over his head with this tiny little person, but in a lot of ways, that's been the story of his life and he's made it this far.

"I could be making that up," Meredith says, starting to smile again, as much because he does as anything else. "Babies really aren't my field. I guess we'll find out soon enough." Nervewracking though that is, she can't help being pleased, almost relieved, now she's more certain of the part she gets to play in all this. There's a hell of a lot of pressure no matter whose daughter she is.

"I guess we will," Sean says, and if he's still not entirely confident in his prospects, he's doing a far better job of faking it now. They're in this together, and they haven't yet found anything that they can't handle. Surely the task of raising the perfect little girl between them won't be any different. "What d'ye say we see how she takes to her crib, then?"

"Right," Meredith says, "good idea. Could probably use a little rest after all this excitement." Heading over to the crib, she lowers Theresa slowly, carefully into it, though she doesn't pull her arms entirely away, letting them hang inside so her hands stay within the girl's reach. "As could you, I imagine. Did you miss me?"

"Always," Sean replies easily, positioning himself once more right at her side as he leans over the side of the crib, watching as Theresa sprawls out happily on her back, reaching for Meredith with both arms and legs now. With the baby and a whole lot of complicated thoughts to keep him company, he wouldn't say that the trip had been a particularly lonely one, but he'd also be lying if he said that those thoughts didn't have a habit of straying regularly back to Meredith, waiting in this big old castle for him to return to her. "It's good ta be home."

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