Putting the EX in reconciliation...

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Cammeh

The mascot formerly known as Cammytrice
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Light fantasy, historical, steampunk, some post-apocalyptic (think, biker rust-punk), anthro (non-anime furry), modern, some sci fi...this & that, I'm pretty random. I don't mind getting frisky as well!
Sinead sighed a bit wearily as she locked the door to the schoolroom behind her, looking up and down the street as she shifted her heavy bag on her shoulder. Tig was usually home by the time she left for the day, but he hadn't come yet. Oh well, probably something kept him late at work. He'd be fine. Shrugging mentally, she headed on down the street, but still kept an eye out for his truck. Enough of an eye out, that she didn't notice the dark shadows separating from the walls of the alley she was passing. The first thing she knew of them was when the pain creased the side of her head.

Dazed, but not knocked out, Sinead felt herself being dragged into the cool darkness of the alley. She was groaning, trying to get her wits back about her, until she felt their paws going up her legs. Immediate panic swamped her and the adrenaline brought her around more. She cursed and kicked at the hands, immediately trying to fight back and swing her bag at them. She didn't have time to try and go for the gun hidden at the bottom of it.

"Oh, a feisty Mick, eh? Always wanted some good Irish fuckin' luck!" The words made her blood run cold, and she spit and bit at the first hand that came towards her. All that got her, though, was a good beating about the head and stomach until she hardly felt them anymore. She heard someone screaming. Was it her? Another strike to her mouth told her it was. She kept screaming. It was almost dinner hour, so the street traffic was sparse, but maybe someone would come and help her. If someone didn't come, it just made her sick to think what might happen to her.
 
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Tig was running late. There had been a bit of commotion at the illegal brewery he worked with, but it was good commotion. His boss's wife and business partner was pregnant, and as tiny as she was, and as large as her husband was, it was damn near a miracle.

So, he was driving home with the top down, wind in his hair and a grin on his face. His bosses (and friends) were over the moon and he was just as happy for them. His own wife was just about to have a baby and someone was screaming in the streets.

Wait, no, that last one was horrible. He slowed down and turned his lights off, listening. Yeah, that was definitely screaming. He found the alley it was coming from easily enough and parked the car. He jumped out and ran in, slamming a heavy boot into the side of one of the men. He couldn't see a whole lot, the alley being dark and all, but he did see a few men attacking a woman, and Tig was not going to stand for it.
 
The cat that was right in her face had his paws around her neck now. Sinead found that as her air finished after the last scream, she couldn't draw it back in. She clawed at his paws, his arms, his face, anything to get him away. Kicking and bucking quickly drained her of any spare energy she had, and she began to flounder as her body felt the starvation of oxygen. She couldn't see, blinded by the creeping darkness and the blood and sweat rolling into her eyes. She finally managed a lucky kick with her last burst of desperate energy, and connected with his groin. He yelped, releasing his grip enough for her to suck in air and kick him again, this time effectively separating him from her.

She needed to run, needed to get away, but her body wouldn't respond. All she could do was roll over and curl around herself protectively, still coughing and gasping as her mind screamed at her to get away.
 
Tig turned and grabbed the guy that had been kicked in the groin and threw him away from the woman on the ground, slamming him against the wall and going right back into the fray. For the poor men who thought that they would have an advantage over the one lone vigilante, they were being proven violently wrong. Tig had spent plenty of time in the local underground fight club, though he felt like it had been a while since he had gone. Kacey tempered him. He wasn't as angry as he used to be now that he had her.

Not to say he was out of shape. Helping out at his friend's illegal brewery and farm helped keep him in very good shape. So, even though one of the men pulled out a knife, Tig still held his own. And while his original intent was to simply get them off the woman and get her in his car where it was safe, he was remembering how good it felt to fight and was...kind of enjoying it...no one tell Kacey, ok?
 
Sinead managed to get up to her hands and knees, then scrambled to her feet. The world tilted, and she had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. Once she found her balance, she tried to get away from the fighting at a stumbling run, but since she was still partly blinded, she didn't realise that she was running farther down the alley, towards the dead end. She tripped and fell over a trash can, but was up again almost immediately, still panicked and not knowing where she, or anyone else, was. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at the pain. It wasn't time to cry, it was time to survive.
 
Tig glanced over when the woman moved. His eyes were more adjusted to the dim lightning now and he could see who it was. The knife to his side didn't even really phase him at the moment. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. "Sinead!" he called before spinning a man into a wall, slamming him face-first into the bricks.

With Bad Guy Number 1 now unconscious, he turned to focus on the second guy who hadn't learned a lesson from the current beating. He had a knife and had already got a hit in. Obviously he was doing better than his partner was. Tig started focusing on the most important next step, disarming this guy. When he spoke again, it was in Gaelic and still directed at the woman. "Sinead! Wrong way! Get out to my car!" Yeah, the top was down, but so what? There were also about three guns still hidden in it from when it was owned by Aurora Tarquinius and he just sort of kept them there. They were hidden enough that Alexa and Kacey weren't going to find them. "There's a pistol under the front seat!"
 
Was someone calling her? She couldn't be sure. Everything was confused; she felt dizzy, like the ground was tilting away from her. She stumbled into the wall and collapsed, her blood roaring in her ears. She knew she was terrified and panicked, but she couldn't quite remember why. Only the primal thought of fleeing remained, even as her body gave out on her. Barely conscious, she lay in a heap, whimpering and groaning, trying to regain her wits. No one was touching her now, maybe she'd found a place to hide so she could rest for a minute. She hoped.

On the ground where she had been when Tig had found her, most of the contents of her bag had spilled and scattered on the ground. Just peeking out of the upturned bag was the butt of her pistol, gleaming dully in the faint light.
 
Tig caught a punch that snapped his head to the side and while the world was spinning, the pistol caught his eye. Because of it, he let himself hit the ground next to the woman's purse. His hand dove in and he pulled the pistol out, praying she kept it loaded. He brought it around and fired three rounds into the guy standing over him, then just sighed, flopping his arms out to his sides, taking a minute to catch his breath.

He sighed after a moment and sat up, then stood up. He put his hand to his side and walked over to the man who was just beginning to regain consciousness and just put one in his head. He tucked the gun into his waistband and started shuffling deeper into the alley. "Sinead!" he called, looking around. "Tá sé Tighearnan!" He looked at his hand and frowned. Well. Fuck. He shook his head and pressed his hand back to his side. "Teacht ar, Poppet. Tá sé sábháilte."

It wasn't too hard to find her, seeing as how she collapsed in the back of the alley. He slowly crouched down beside her and checked her for a pulse. Oh thank god. He sighed and touched his rosary, then put his arm under her shoulders, sitting her up. "Teacht ar. Faigh suas."

((It's Tighearnan....Come on...It's safe.....Come on. Get up))
 
Sinead reacted violently to his touch, recoiling and trying to fight her way out of his grip. It didn't do much good, as weak as she was now, and the time she spent struggling let the words seep in and make sense. "T-Tiggy?" she whimpered, sobbing. She sagged against him, wanting to faint in relief. Clinging to him, she struggled to her feet and almost did pass out from the pain. "Agam nach féidir, mo cheann ... Bhí mé chomh scanraithe!" Sinead was trembling like a leaf. She was barely able to make the shuffling limp back to the mouth of the alley, gripping his shirt with one hand and her stomach with the other.

The tears did manage to clear the blood from her eyes, and she hid her face in Tig's shoulder as she passed the dead men on the ground. "Shábháil tú dom. Siad, bhí siad ag dul go dtí ..." She covered her mouth and sank to her knees, retching. Blood, not vomit, seeped through her fingers to puddle on the ground. Pulling her hand away to stare at it, she sat there, horrified.

(("I can't, my head...I was so scared!" ... "You saved me. They, they were going to...")
 
Tig helped her lower to the ground, not wanting her to just drop like a rock and risk hurting something. When he saw the blood, however, he frowned. He knelt beside her, ignoring the pain that shot through his side. He started looking her over, touching her stomach gently, checking her mouth. He sighed. She was going to get blood all over his car...

He limped back over to her purse, picking it up and shoving some of the contents into....hey, there was blood on his hand...he looked down at his side and groaned. He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his side as he stood with her purse and walked back over.

"Hospital or Boden?"
 
Sinead looked at him blankly, not understanding what he was trying to ask her. She just wanted to go to sleep. Her head hurt and everything hurt and she still felt nauseous. She retched again, vomiting up blood and bile before she slumped to the ground, her eyes rolling up in her head.

Tig would've felt the hard lumps and welts beginning to form all over her battered form, and her stomach feeling very firm, as well as her mouth cut and bleeding from being hit about the face so much. Had she been coherent, she may have voted for a hospital herself, but now it was up to Tig.
 
Tighearnan weighed his options and decided that maybe the hospital was the best bet. He picked her up and put her down in his car. It wouldn't be the first time those seats saw blood. He made sure he wasnt leaving anything behind before sliding slowly into the drivers seat. "Sinead, i need you to hold this." he guided her hand to his side. "Push and don't let go, aye? And ye'd best t'ink about somet'in' tae talk about. Ye gettin married yet?"
 
Sinead came to slightly when he picked her up, but she was mumbling in Gaelic and didn't answer him. She barely heard him, much less understood what he was saying. She kept her hand where he put it, but it was more her slumping against him that applied the pressure, rather than her consciously pushing on it. It was clear she really was not doing well, her skin pale under her fur. The blood was still oozing from her head wound, further matting her hair and fur, getting into her eyes and mixing with the other cuts on her face. It stung fiercely and she whimpered as she clumsily swiped at her swollen eyes with her free paw. She wasn't going to be much for conversation, so this at least kept her awake for now.
 
The conversation wasn't for his own amusement. She obviously had a very severe concussion and he just didn't want her to fall asleep. He kept talking to her while he drove, driving pretty fast. He tried to keep her talking, or at least just tried to make sure she was awake. "Please hang on, Sinead....please hang on..."

He pulled up in his very nice car in front of the hospital and leaned back in the seat. He was honestly a little surprised he had made it, and just laid on the horn until someone came out. He made the nurses take her first, then made sure someone was going to put his car somewhere safe before he let them take him inside.
 
Sinead panicked when she felt several paws pull her from the car, but as weak as she was her flailing didn't hinder the orderlies any. They whisked her inside and straight into a treatment room. It was all chaos when her blood pressure dropped and she passed out. They immediately rushed her to surgery, calling for surgeons as they went.

In a separate treatment room nearby, Tig was getting his side stitched up by a young doctor, while a nurse was trying to get his and Sinead's information. "Is there any next of kin we can notify for Miss Teague?" she was asking. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Would you like us to notify the police to report the attack?"
 
Tig sighed. "Nae, don't call tha cops. I took care o' it on me own..." He put his head back, closing his eyes. "If ye give me a phone, I'll call everyone that needs tae be called. Me wife will worry sick an' she's pregnant, so tha less she worries, that better...an' Sinead's boyfriend...I dinnae. It's jes' easier hearin' all that from a friend, aye?"
 
The nurse hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, sir. As soon as Dr. Mayfield finishes up, we'll get you to the phone," she promised, giving the doctor a glance to make sure that was okay. The doctor nodded, and she finished getting the rest of the few details she needed, then waited for the doctor to complete the procedure.

Once Tig was bandaged up and his vitals taken to make sure he wasn't going to pass out, the nurse led him back out to the reception and pulled up the stool next to the payphone so he could sit while he called. She also set a few nickels on the shelf next to the phone, explaining that the hospital reused the coins so folks could make emergency calls and if there were any extra coins to please return them to the nurses' desk. She then left to fetch him some coffee and a sandwich from the automat, as the doctor wanted him to eat something as soon as he was able.
 
He sat and listened to the nurse, honestly thankful for the coins because his hands hurt so bad from the fight that he didn't think he could pull coins from his own pockets. He slouched on the stool and stared at the phone, wondering who he should call first...Sinead was in very bad shape...

He popped a coin into the phone and spoke to the operator.

Cicero was getting worried as time went on. Sinead was just about like clockwork and every minute that ticked by scared the poor man. So, when the phone rang, he jumped to answer it. "Hallo?? Sinead?"


"It's Tighearnan." he said with a frown. "I uh...we're at the hospital. Sinead and me."

"The hospital??" He fidgeted with the phone. "Is she alright?"


"I'm...not really sure, Cicero. She's in surgery. She got mugged, but I kept it from bein' any worse..."
"Which hospital?"


He gave the name of the hospital and Cicero thanked him and hung up. Tig sighed and hung up the phone, then picked it back up, calling home. That had been hard, but there was no telling how his pregnant wife would react...When she answered, he smiled a little. "I'm gonnae start out wit' sayin' that I'm alright....but I'm at tha hospital."
 
"The hospital?" Kacey asked curiously, much relieved rather than scared now, since he sounded alright, but tired. "I was worried, but since you sound alright, what happened? Did you hurt yourself at work?" she guessed.

"S'it Tiggy?" Alexa's voice could be heard near the phone as well. In truth, she was leaning on Kacey's knee. "You tell 'im he missed his fav'rite dinner an' you ate it all?" she teased.

"Ssshhhh!" Kacey giggled blushing. "Well, now he knows anyway, doesn't he?"
 
He smiled. "Aw, ye ate all me favorite dinner? Ah, oh well. I ah, well, there was an incident wit' Sinead while she walked home...she's..." he frowned. "She's nae so alright, Kacey..." He put his hand over his face, rubbing a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's in surgery. I-I dinnae if she's gonnae be alright..."

It was finally hitting him what had happened. The adrenaline was gone. He didn't have to be in survival mode anymore. He wasn't fighting. He was sitting in the hospital on the phone while his ex-fiance was in the operating room. She had been beaten half to death. He had come to help her, but what if he was too late? What if she died because he was late coming home?
 
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