missingthekeep | [for Meredith]

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[for Meredith]

It's not often that Sean comes home in this state anymore, with that old swagger in his step that comes from too much focus spent keeping it steady, but really, that's what makes the times when he does go all out all the more worth it. That's what he tells himself, anyway. The guilt that he feels when he drinks is a rather unwelcome recent addition, however, fading echoes of a fight with Meredith that he barely remembers always ready to creep up on him as soon as he lets his guard down, and there's only so much rationalizing he can do after he's had a few. Which leads to more drinking, which leads to nights like tonight. It doesn't seem fair, somehow, when he's finally getting over the depression that had plagued him for months, to be brought low by something so utterly ridiculous, but at least it tends to fade away pretty reliably somewhere during the short walk home. These are good days he's living in, good times, and these nights are the exception as opposed to the rule now. Which makes them all the more worth it.

He pauses in the yard to ruffle Doc's fur when he gets home and the damn mutt nearly gets him rolling around on the ground with him by the time Sean drags himself through the front door. "Hey you," he drawls fondly when he spots Meredith and heads over to a chair, draping his jacket over the back of it before taking a seat with a heavy sigh. "We should have a couch. Why don't we have a couch?"

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"O' course," Sean replies as he reaches out to rest a hand gently on her shoulder, obviously confused. It is as long as she doesn't continue to make a big deal out of this, anyway, as long as she doesn't get it in her head that there's something fundamentally wrong with him again. The usual, in other words, which is a problem all unto itself, but he's pretty sure that's not what she's asking. "What could be wrong?"

Meredith raises her brow at him, head tipping to the side. Hand lifting to rest on his, she shrugs. "What couldn't be?" she asks. Things have been better the last few weeks, at least for her, but there's always a long list of what could easily go wrong, and that's not counting all the way their minds play tricks on them when nothing's really the matter. There's always something.

She's got a point, of course, but it's not one that Sean's in the mood to acknowledge just now and he shakes his head, squeezing her shoulder encouragingly, leaning slightly against the back of her chair in the process. "Things're good right now," he says, and it feels a little bit like he's reassuring himself of that as well. His only concerns lie in what happens if that ever stops being true again. Perfection, or their closest available approximation, never lasts. "Can't we jus' enjoy 'em?"

"We could," Meredith says. "But you're off enjoying them while I sit here with a book. And not even a good one." She can't even blame herself for that either; the bookshelf has its good days and its bad, and it's always a gamble. That isn't the point either, though. She's never altogether certain what's going to come out until she says it, but she knows she has a point, although it makes her wonder if the problem, then, is her, if she's not worried so much as jealous.

She sighs. "Yes. Yes, of course we can."

Sean sighs, breaking away from her in thinly veiled frustration. She doesn't seem to be spoiling for a fight this time around, but that's not enough when she still insists on making a big deal out of this when it isn't. When it shouldn't be, at any rate. "We get time apart. We need time apart, ye said as much yerself. Ye think I dinnae want ta spend as many nights wi' ye as I can? It's nae my fault that the thought o' proposin' we go out an' put somethin' stronger'n milk past our lips makes me terrified o' what ye'll think o' me. Wi' good reason, obviously, if'n this is how ye act."

"That is ridiculous," Meredith says, turning in her seat to face him better. "What, am I the teetotaler now? You know that's ridiculous." They need their space, that's true, but she doesn't know what him going off and getting drunk is supposed to do in their favor when it's already been a problem. He's just making excuses now, irritation bubbling up in her at the thought. "So you're scared of me now, is that what you're saying? Because I was worried about something."

"Maybe it is," Sean counters, surprising even himself with that, all these things that he's wanted to say for weeks but keeps shoving aside suddenly pushing to come out. Even he can see how that would be a bad idea in his present condition, although the idea of a built-in excuse for whatever it is he has to say is almost appealing. Shaking his head with another tired-sounding sigh, he steps closer again, his movements careful and loose as he bends over to kiss her cheek, fervently praying that she won't rebuff him. "Look, I really dinnae want ta do this right now."

Meredith stares dumbly at him, not pulling away but not paying much attention either, still caught on his first statement. "No," she says, "you can't say that. You can't just say that and then call it quits like you — like nothing's happening." It's not as if she thinks he doesn't scared of things, like they don't have plenty to lose. It's just not supposed to be her.

Sean's completely with her on that count, agreeing with everything she says and even some of the things she doesn't, which makes everything he can think of to come out of his mouth sound like a pathetic deflection at best, and the utter lies they are at worst. Even when it comes as naturally as breathing to him, though, he's never really had it in him to lie to her, anyway. "Well, ye shouldnae be able t'make me feel this way an' then go on like everythin's hunky-dory f'r weeks, but here we are," he replies tightly, features drawn down in consternation. "I really did have a good night, Meredith, I jus' want ta put on some music an lay down an' forget about this."

"Well, you go ahead," Meredith says, pulling to her feet. He's half-drunk and he's right, this is no time to have this argument, least of all when she's increasingly furious, but if she's going to give him that space to forget, she can't do it here. "But I can't. I need to get some air or something." She stops, whirling around to face him, head shaking. "And — no, you know, you've done that to me, too. You've done it a lot, so don't tell me I don't get to. If you do, so do I. You know, at least I said something."

Sean's eyes go wide as she rounds on him before his expression hardens, more hurt than angry. Getting his emotions flaring on a dime is always something she's had a knack for, and no matter how unsteady he suddenly feels, tonight is no exception. He really should have expected this, but he's not thinking any of it through, so she manages to completely blindside him. "It's nae the same," he says quietly, before his voice rises. For all the thought he's put into this over the weeks, he's never actually tried putting it to words, and it's proving to be a trickier prospect than anticipated. He understands perfectly what he means, but she just doesn't see it, doesn't see the problem, and he's not sure how to make her. "There's a difference 'tween bein' concerned o'er a person, an'... or givin' 'em cause ta worry, or... I wouldnae do that! Nae what ye..." He trails off, shaking his head and frowning at the way it all comes out wrong, confused, a perfect match for his frame of mind.

"Not what I what?" Meredith asks. Her hands drop to the side as she sighs. This is the wrong time to get into this, she knows that, and it's unfair to pick a fight when he's in this state, but she's not the one saying things like that and she can't just run off and leave him to push it aside while she clears her head. She can't just let this go. "What did I do that was so terrible? Because you're right, it has, it has been weeks and you haven't said anything to make me think we aren't okay until tonight."

Sean opens his mouth for a few seconds without making a sound, and now that she's giving him an opening to finally say something about this, he doesn't want to. It suddenly seems like such a silly concern, a petty little thing to get up in arms over when things have been so good between them, and for a moment, he even tries to think up something better, but he knows he's going to come out with it, anyway. "I-" he starts before cutting himself off, glancing down and off to the side as his voice drops, quiet but urgent. "Ye took yer ring off."

"I take it off all the time," Meredith protests. It's not what he means and she knows it, but it isn't like it isn't also a regular occurrence. It's just that most of the time, she removes it to protect it. That once, she was trying to protect herself. It clearly accomplished nothing at all.

Sean just feels dumber than ever at that and he can feel his face burning as he grits his teeth, steels himself against the rush of anger at himself. No matter how much he wishes he hadn't said anything at all, it's too late to take it back. All he can do is stand his ground and hope he won't keep feeling quite so exposed in the process.

"It's nae the same," he says, trying not to sound nearly as desperate as he feels. Admittedly, his perceptions may be a touch skewed at the moment, but she should still be able to see how important this is. "Ye ken what I mean, Meredith!"

"What does it matter?" Meredith asks, almost pleading for him to drop it. "It's back now. I am wearing the ring. I'm going to keep wearing it. I was angry and you weren't listening and I did something rash, but it's over." There's more to it than that, but she's eager to end this, irritated to have to talk about it now. There's nothing wrong with what she did and she doesn't understand why he thinks she should have to be sorry about it, although she'll apologize if it'll end this ridiculous spat.

"It matters," Sean says, low and severe, clenching his jaw almost painfully. "It meant somethin'."

"It meant you weren't listening to me," Meredith snaps. It just irritates her more, how much that makes her sound like she's being a petulant child, but that matters, too. "It meant that you said I was only with you because I can't survive without someone. Not because I love you. Not because I want to be here, not because I want to be with you, because I need you to get by and I'm too scared to live on my own. And if that's what you believe, then there was no reason in wearing it, was there?"

Sean just sputters uselessly for a moment before he gathers his wits, such as they are, about him enough to reply. "Look, ye- ye had every right t'be angry, I was out o' line, I knew it then an' I know it now, but that doesnae make it okay! Ye cannae jus'... do that when things're bad or ye're upset."

Except for the part where she quite obviously can.

Edited 2011-10-09 23:36 (UTC)

"So I was just supposed to stand there and take you saying I don't love you," Meredith says, hand on her hip. It's a counter-intuitive argument, but where he knew he was out of line, she felt it was the only thing to do. "It wasn't that things were bad, it wasn't that I was upset, it was you said I don't love you."

Biting his lip hard, Sean doesn't answer until he's sitting back down again, anything to feel a little bit more secure, not quite so off-kilter. She has to know he didn't mean it, that he was just hurt and insulted and hungover and ranting, but then again... even if he's in a better position these days to understand why she did what she did, he certainly hadn't felt very loved at the time. Maybe he did mean it. Who can say? It doesn't matter now either way, not when he knows better.

"No, o' course nae," he says with a shake of his head, his gaze not leaving the floor. "There are other ways, though, I really thought that..." He trails off with a noise of disgust right before his voice has the chance to break, leaning over to rest his head on the table, not finishing the thought.

Meredith falters, caught between the urge to go to him and the instinct that keeps her hackles up. "We both made mistakes," she says. That much is abundantly clear. It's hardly news for either of them, and she won't deny the action was a rash one, but she doesn't see how she can be blamed for the impulse. "What do you want me to say, Sean?"

"I don't know," Sean sighs, his voice muffled as he brings his arms up around his head like a schoolboy trying to settle in for a nap in class. Would that life could be so simple. He almost asks her to just drop the matter again, at least for the night, but that's probably overestimating his skill at dealing with these things even when sober, so he doesn't bother. "All I know is that I cannae do this if'n I'm always worryin' 'bout puttin' so much as a toe out o' line, o' makin' one more mistake for fear that ye'll jus' have... had enough."

"I am here," Meredith says, shaking her head at him, dumbfounded. "Sean, we've both made mistakes. A lot of them. And I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." She refuses to accept that as what it sounds like to her, not now, not when they're angry and upset and he's been drinking. If he says he can't do this tomorrow, she'll deal with it then, but right now, she has to get around the hard, painful lump in her chest her heart's become.

"I know that," Sean says before he slowly lifts his head again, looking up at her with wide, shadowed eyes. "I thought I knew that. An' then ye took yer ring off. I spent days, Meredith, jus'... thinkin' I'd finally done it, said the wrong thing one too many times, screwed up so terribly that it could actually end us. An' I was wrong, thank God I was wrong, but now I cannae get it out o' me head that the real thing cannae be much further off'n that an' it terrifies me. My mistakes didnae consist o' breakin' things off, that's the difference."

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