Sean Cassidy

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.

Sean sleeps well these days. Not heavily, and not nearly as soundly on the nights he spends alone, but better than he's slept in what feels like years, certainly. Which is what he chalks it up to when it takes him a few minutes to come to as he rolls over in the night and slips his arm underneath his pillow, finding a piece of thin, hard plastic there for him to wrap his hand around. Eventually, the fact that something's not quite right with that manages to filter through to him and he sits up abruptly, trying not to wake Meredith in the process.

It's too dark to see, but he's got that sinking feeling in his stomach that lets him know something's wrong, and he decides to duck out, see if he can get a better look outside. Scrounging around on the floor for a second in the gloom, he manages to find a pair of jeans to pull on before he sneaks out, as quietly as can, and lets his eyes adjust to the moonlight and the dim glow from a light down the path.

Of all the things to randomly turn up, he never would have expected the damn disk he'd been sent to Germany after, but somehow, he's not surprised in the slightest when he recognizes it, flipping the slim case over in his hands. The only question left is why it's there. It's not like the ring, it's nothing personal or of any value to anyone, especially here where it's worth less than the materials it's made out of. He should just chuck it off into the trees somewhere and go back to bed, back where he's wanted, forget about it the way he's been doing for months. And yet...

Sighing, he scrubs a hand over his face and searches for a spot to sit down, leaning against his hut. Take a second to process it and then get on with his life, he can do that. Never mind the way it seems to remind him that, on those nights where he's all alone with his thoughts, this life can feel like one big lie. "Mission accomplished, boyo," he mutters under his breath, tapping his nails against it. All the hell he'd been through before coming to the island, all for this. Fat lot of good it does him now.

None of it was ever about the mission, anyway.