Putting the EX in reconciliation...

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"Is she?" Sinead smiled a bit, glad for some normal news. But, stab wound? He must've been stabbed rescuing her. She fingered the healing knife slash above where it disappeared behind her eye patch and over her eye. "I'm getting there slowly..." she said with a sigh. She accepted his help to get sat up and didn't say anything about the whiskey breath. She even envied him for it. But the fact that he was sitting here talking to her coherently made it a non-issue.

"Tha concussion's gonnae linger fer about as long as I gotta wear tha sling, about a month're so. An' I'll need t' be careful wit' me eye. Use drops'n such, an' then exercise it once it's a bit more healed...but I'll nae lose it." She shook her head wryly, touching the bald patch where her own stitches had just come out yesterday. "An' me hair'll grow back eventually. Ugh, I hate it short. That'll take tha longest. I still cannae believe they did it while I was sleepin'. Ain't good t'shock a soul like tha'..." She didn't mention the panic attack that she'd suffered thinking about them touching her while she was in a drugged sleep. It had taken quite a while for Cicero to talk her down from that. "But I'm hopin' t'go home soon. I'm more steady on m'feet, an' once I don' need pain medication fer my ribs, they'll set me free from here..."

Sinead took a breath, sighing lightly as she finished listing off her injuries. She tried not to think about them. "S'been hard, but Cicero's been an absolute dear. He mus' be exhausted. I hope he gets himself a nap at home. He's been up almos' as much as I have through th'night. I, well, I've nae been sleepin' well. Nightmares an' shite like tha'..." Sinead took a careful breath, staring down at her lap and flicking the claws of her good hand awkwardly. "Cicero said...it might help f'we talk...if I ask ye..." Her eye flicked up at him and back down again. "What happened tha' night..."
 
The man let out a soft chuckle. "They gave ye meds fer yer ribs? They didn't give me any fer mine." He shook his head and ran a hand down his chest. She wanted to talk. Or at least, she had also been told she needed to.

He took a slow, steady breath and nodded. "Aye. Cicero says ye donnae remember any o' it." This was stupid. He rubbed his face and continued the conversation in Gaelic. It was just easier. She knew it, he knew it, why keep pretending they weren't Irish? Why did the pair always insist on speaking English around each other.

So, the rest of his conversation was done in Gaelic. "What do you need to know? Do you want me to just...tell you what happened? What I saw and did and all that? Or do you have specific questions about it?"
 
"Jes' tell me wha' happened firs'," she said, her words coming a bit easier in Gaelic. "Me nightmares, they're jes' shadows, grabbin' a' me. An', I need t'know wha' happened t'them. I, they're nae gonna be prowlin' after me when I go home are they?" she asked, her voice tight. She pulled her blanket up around her more tightly, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation, but bracing herself to hear it. "I jes', I need t'know. S'more scary havin' a blank space there. Tha las' thing I remember is lockin' up tha school an' lookin' out fer ye, cuz ye weren' home yet..."
 
"I was late because Mab and Lathen made their announcement. So Emily and I stayed and had a few drinks with them. I was driving home when I heard someone screaming. Parked, jumped out, saw two men beatin' on a woman in an alley, so I jumped in. I got cockey with one guy and forgot about the other. He was stranglin' you when I turned around. Took a knife in the side. It isn't a big deal. They said it didn't hit anything important. You ran to the other end of the alley and I continued to fight off the guys until I saw that little pistol you carry in your purse..."

He looked over at her. "They aren't hurtin' anyone anymore. After I saw how bad you were, and how out of it, I shot them." He put two fingers to his temple and mimed pulling a trigger. "They're in the county morgue. I filled all of the paperwork with the police. So no, they aren't out there waiting until you're alone again. They're closed-casket dead."

He sat back in the recliner, watching her face. "I got you into the car and brought you here. They wheeled you into surgery and I called everyone...got patched up myself first, but they never offered me any pain meds." He smirked at her. "You must be prettier than I am." he said, that old charm of his weaseling its way out of his slightly inebriated mouth.
 
She rewarded him with a weak smile, though it looked a bit sick. "Thank ye..." she whispered. "I..." She couldn't go on, her throat suddenly closed tight as she fought tears. She couldn't quite tell if it was relief, fear, bitterness, or gratitude. Sinead drew in a ragged breath, then another. "S-sorreh..." she gasped, trying to get herself under control. "This head...me concussion's makin' me jes' as emotional as Kacey..." She made a vain attempt at a joke before crumpling into tears.

"They woulda killed me...they, coulda done so much worse if ye'd nae've been there...Tiggy I'm...m'sorreh fer everythin'. I didnae treat ye right after...after we ended it. An' now, I jes' feel so guilty..." She wrung her paws awkwardly as she sobbed out her confession. "I blamed ye an' I broke yer nose, an' I didnae want ta admit that ye were right. I'd have gone tae jail if I wasnae a lass. 'Twas not fair on ye...an' then ye came an' saved me, an' I cannae take all tha' back. I cannae fix anythin'...I feel like tha wors' hypocrite there is..."
 
Tig had to admit, it actually kind of felt good seeing her apologize and be upset and all that. For a minute anyway. He got up and poured her a cup of water, bringing it and a tissue or two over to her.

"It wasn't tha punch, Sinead...well, it wasn't just the punch. Findin' out afterwards, after our whole long relationship and tha...tha no sex an' all. I understood it. But we broke up an' you went out and found a prostitute? That was more of a punch to the face than the literal one was!" He sat back down roughly in the chair and started picking at the stitches still in his hands. "I respected tha shit out of you, Sinead. It was why I lied about bein' a waiter. And it wasn't like I was her hitman or something. I was her driver. And young. And stupid, but I honestly thought that lyin' to you about what I did was the best way to go about things! It kept you out of as much trouble as possible. I...fuck, I knew I never deserved you while we were together. I knew you could have better than me but you picked me and I was tryin' ta do everythin' I could to be a god man for you. And you leave me. Then Alexa's comin' home, sayin' you were with that....Hawke guy...like there's a man in this city that don't know his name..."

He huffed and folded his arms. "I was never worth your time but ye dragged me along anyway pretendin' I was. But I know I never was. Tha girl I had after you was the same. Some rich socialite usin' me tae piss off 'er da until..." He frowned and shook his head.

"I'm fuckin' pissed, Sinead, and it's nae all at you. It's that this whole fuckin' t'ing is makin' me want tae go back ta me old ways and I can't an' I feel fuckin' trapped then I feel guilty as fuck for feelin' that way." he threw his hands up and dropped them into his lap. He put his head back and sighed, just staring at the ceiling now. "Just...why a prostitute, Sinead?" He rolled his head to look over at her. "Jes' answer me that one thing...or tell me if you were lyin', all tha reasons ye gave me that we should wait...were they a lie?"
 
Sinead listened meekly, drinking the water carefully so she didn't choke and wiping her tears. She carefully massaged her injured eye. She was going to need those drops again.

"Nae. They were nae a lie. I believed 'em ta me soul. But, I was hurtin' too. I felt like I had nobody tae help ease tha pain. I...tha firs' night I met him, I, we didn'. I wouldnae let him..." She flushed bright red. "I didnae go out lookin' fer him. I was jes' out, an' he foun' me. We talked an' drank, an' I was pretty drunk, an' we made out...But, that day when ye were waitin' fer me outside tha office...I was so upset, I was jes' wanderin' around and ended up there. It...he asked if I'd let him help me ta feel better, an' I was so desperate tae feel sommat other than tha pain, I let 'im..." Her ears fell shamefully. "But, he really was a good friend ta me then...he was tha one tha' showed me how wrong I was fer hittin' ye, an' convinced me t'talk ta somebody about me anger...he was, jes' a safe person t'be wit'."

She coughed a bit painfully, grimacing at the stitches on her stomach that she'd forgotten about, and the pain in her ribs. "But ye cannae say I didnae love ye, Tiggy. I did love ye, truly an' deeply. Ye were strong, an' ye had a purpose. You took care of yer family. I so wanted tae be part of it too. I jes'...I felt so betrayed. I cannae say tha' what she did didn' have an impact on it, but..." Sinead sighed, letting her head fall back against her pillow. Emotions were so tiring. "I was young an' naïve. I needed tae grow up. I couldn't have been a good wife tae ye, not like ye needed, livin' in me fantasy world. I, I believe that now. I jes...it hurts ta say, but I think she was tha one tha' started me on tha growin' up. What was I thinkin'? An' I still thought after, tha' I was invincible. Like 'twas nought that could hurt me. I didn' live in yer world, Tiggy. I never could. 'Twas me that was nae good enough. I was jealous of Kacey, y'know. Cuz she was perfect fer ye. Stable an' wise, an' she had her eyes wide open. She could handle tha life ye lived without flinchin'. Why couldn't I have been that way?"
 
"It wasn't without flinching. She told me not to talk about it." He slouched back in his chair. "She didn't want to hear anything about it and by the time we went on our first date, I'd quit." he flexed his fingers. "Besides, you know the kids she tutors. As long as no one's around talking shop, she doesn't care what they do when they go home. Hell, she tutors Chance, for fuck's sake, and I don't know who I'm more scared of, Xiomara or Aurora...one will literally rip your throat out and one will make you do it yourself..."

He sighed and shook his head. "This all just...brought up way too many things that I didn't want to think about. Things I'd buried...Kacey doesn't know this, but the child she's carryin'...ain't my first...just my first to make it this far..." he sighed and pulled one of the stitches out of his hand. Well, that had hurt. Oh well...
 
"I wish I could make it better...but I cannae. Apparently, m'terrible at fixin' folks' problems, includin' me own..." she said bitterly, glaring at her broken arm and fingering a short curl. Maybe she deserved this after all. The thought made her weep, and she couldn't stop the tears. She took the eye patch off and threw it, mostly because it was the only thing to hand that she could throw without damaging anything. Then, she just closed her eyes and wept. This was all her fault. She had caused this. If she had stayed with Tig, if she were a better person, she wouldn't have been walking away from his home looking out for him, and this wouldn't have happened. She deserved to have Tig hate her, to see her here broken and battered. For all the pain she'd caused him, she deserved every bit of it.

"This is all my fault!" she blurted out, scrubbing at her good eye in an effort not to claw at her hurt one. It felt like it was on fire from all this crying, and now with the sudden light.
 
Tig rolled his eyes and stayed in his chair. He guessed she hadn't changed at all. Her temper was still right there. "Sinead, stop. You're acting like a child now." He looked over at her. "It's never a woman's fault when they get attacked on the street. It's the man's for thinking it's a grand idea and that they can get away with it and that there's nothing wrong with what they're doing."

He was very uncomfortable, sitting there with her just sobbing. "Anyway, you're going to call a nurse in and they'll think this is all my fault...I came here to talk to you like adults, and I probably haven't done my entire share of that, but..." he shook his head. Mother Mary, give me strength...

"I plan on going to talk to Father O'Malley after this. I'm going to tell him to come by for you, so he'll probably be here later today."
 
She nodded, then shook her head, trying to answer two things at once. "They-they won't..." She hiccuped, then tried again. "They'll nae blame ye. They're used tae me sobbin'..." There was a hysterical little laugh as she started to gain control again. "Like I said, s'me head right now. Poor Cicero's been puttin' up wit' me all week..." She took a shuddering breath and sighed again, looking embarrassed. "M'sorreh me emotions are still a raw this mornin'..." Her head sagged back against the pillow again, and she looked at him with both eyes now, one of them a startling blood red with a fully dilated pupil. "Would ye mind, gettin' me eye patch, please? And tha bottle wit' tha dropper?" The bottle was on the bedside table, but it was awkward for her to reach it.
 
Tig cringed at the sight of her eye and nodded. "Aye, sure." He got up and retrieved the eye-patch and the drops, holding them out to her and not looking at her creepy eye. He sighed and looked around the room. The talk hadn't helped him much at all. He had made a big confession and she hadn't even blinked at it. He let out a soft sigh.

"I should probably get going. You need your rest, no doubt..."
 
"Wait..." Sinead looked away as she put in the drops and quickly pulled back on the eyepatch. "Aye, s'a wretched thing t'look at. But, ye said sommat b'fore..." She paused to replay the conversation in her head. She blinked when it struck her and she looked at him again. "S'nae...yer firs'?"
 
Tighearnan would have much rather been punched in the stomach. His ears folded back and he looked back down at the stitches on his hand. "Aye..." he shrugged. "The girl I saw after you, after a few months...Alexa doesnae even know about 'er. But I ah...suppose we weren't so careful. But it was nae a real t'ing, some on-again-off-again bullshit. I'd left 'er fer tha last time, then ran inta 'er again a couple o' months later. She was pregnant, swore it was mine, an' wasn't takin' care of herself. Drinkin' mostly. She was a ah...rich socialite type. Drank too much. It got ta five months I think...before ah...the drinkin' caught up..."
 
"An' yer on me about...about Rowan?" she wanted to know, then shook her head. That wasn't helpful, and she was too tired now to start another argument. Her head was starting to hurt. Too much crying and too little sleep and an empty stomach. "Ne'er min' tha', it dinnae matter. What would ye've done? If she'd had tha baby?" He wasn't just telling her for her benefit. He wanted to talk about it.
 
He snorted, then rubbed his nose. "I wasn't against having sex the whole time we were together. You wouldn't have been my first, second, third..." he shook his head. "I've never been a good Catholic boy." He smoothed down his shirt, using the practiced movement to touch his rosary.

"Daisy was a fling. She was rich. Railroad money. She wouldn't have been allowed to keep it if she'd had it. I would have taken it myself and raised it proper, well away from it's crazy slut of a mother." he sighed, moving so he was leaning back against her bed, sort of sitting on it but mostly still standing. He folded his arms and stared down at his shoes. "I haven't told Kacey. Or Alexa. I might have let it drunkenly slip out to the Russians last night..." he laughed a little. "I went to Anastasia's, of all places...the bartender and doorman....they're downstairs waiting for me. Guess I walked, so they gave me a ride here...they're uh...keepin' me from a full on week long drunken disappearance..."
 
"That's good..." she sighed. "I hafta say m'jealous. I'd have loved a drink lots o' times this pas' week. But th' doc said s'nae a good idea wit' a concussion. But, I dinnae if s'a good idea period. Nae until I cin get these, well, these nightmares an' ghosts outta me head." Sinead sighed, looking down at her lap and picking at her cast. "I'll nae tell 'em. Kacey an' Alexa. Ye dinnae hafta worry about tha'. But why tell me?" she wondered, looking up at him again, her one eye quizzical.
 
He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know." He looked over at the door, then back at the floor again. "It's just something else I'm fucked up over right now. One of the reasons I'm feeling as guilty as I am. All I want to do is go get drunk and disappear for a week. Come back, not remember it...I feel like it's such a great idea. Then I think about Kacey and how she's ready to pop, and how much stress it would put on Alexa. She'd probably be out every night looking for me and I'd hate for her to actually find me. Or for Kacey to go into labor and me not be there. Or for the stress to...to cause complications..."

He took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. He looked back over his shoulder at her. "You don't need to worry about the guys that did this. Just remember that, Sinead. Alright? And I definitely made them hurt for what they did."
 
"Thank ye, Tig. It...it does make me feel a bit better, but...I'll nae get over this right away. I dinnae know how long it'll take. But ye dinnae need t'feel guilty about me. I really hope tha' you won't. I did love ye, wit' all me heart, an' I still care about ye, but I've come tae th' conclusion now tha' we would nae've made a good marriage. I've come t'terms wit' it. But what I thought, an' how I felt, t'was nae a lie. I made a poor choice, aye, but I dinnae know if I cin properly regret it. But ye an' Kacey are perfect fer each other. Dinnae think that ye dinnae deserve her. Ye may not have been a good Catholic boy, but yer a good man, Tig. Ye've got good friends around ye. It dinnae make ye weak. It makes ye not alone."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "I'd greatly appreciate it if ye sent Father O'Malley aroun' this afternoon. M'sure Cicero would appreciate me bendin' somebody else's ear fer once..."
 
Tig let her words sink in for a minute. He was a good man? As he thought about it, he had no choice but to suppose he was. He had a daughter who didn't bite people anymore, who felt stable and safe at home. He went to church. He had a wife who was pregnant with his child (and he would go crazy if she gave him a son). He was in the illegal whiskey making business, but that didn't bother him. He was working for truly good people at a good, hard, mostly honest job.

He looked over at Sinead. He smiled a little and leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Sinead." He smiled. "I truly loved you, too, but you're right. We weren't really good for each other, were we? You and Cicero, though...you always needed an educated man and I never told you my deepest darkest secret." He smirked a little and shook his head. "If I couldn't tell you that then, I don't think we were as ready for all of that as we should have been."

He paused a moment before slipping back into English to let out his deepest, darkest secret.

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season
With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
By the injustice of the skies for punishment?
 
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