Gaps and Fissures
Fiona retired after cleaning up. She was spent; the day had been so beyond anything she could ever have thought about occurring that she needed time to herself. She poured out two whiskeys and handed them over to Lin as she slipped off, a silent request to be left alone. She washed and changed for the night in an almost trance-like state. Her mind kept replaying the shifting of color, the licking of flames on the boys and their physical change over and over. It had taken so little time in reality, but in her mind it seemed like the moment stretched on and on only to abruptly end with their sudden disappearance into the sea. She wrenched her mind away from the vision and picked up her book. She did not even know what she was reading, but she needed to force her mind into another channel or sleep would never come. She somehow doubted it would even with the sure comfort of a book in her hands. She settled back and forced herself to begin to read. Surprisingly it only took a few pages before she drifted off, the light still burning at her bedside.
Lin held the whiskey pensively. Finally, as it seemed all that she could do, she took a cup over to Roary and handed it to him. She didn't say anything. They just stood there, side by side, sipping for several long moments. Finally, she broke the silence. "I'll get you some blankets and a pillow so you can sleep on the sofa. I know I should probably offer you one of the boys' beds, but I just think perhaps you will be more comfortable out here," she finished.
"I've no interest in sleepin' in their place. Tho' I thank ye' for thinkin' of the pillows and blankets for out here." It was clear that he understood and perhaps even shared her reluctance to have anyone but the boys fill the space that seemed to still hum with their presence. She drifted into the room, fingering the things they had left out, a shirt thrown over the end of the bed, a stray sock. Breathing deeply she picked up Ian's iPod and scrolled through the playlists. She found what she was looking for and hooked it up to the docking station on the small speakers he had brought with him. She played the "Chillaxin" mix he had made for her on a low setting. Drifting around the room, she found Sean's MP3 player and, as she let herself lean into the music, scrolled through to see what he had on it. She stopped when she found the same playlist. She laughed for a moment and almost choked when the first of the tears started to run through her. Sliding down to the edge of the bed, she listened to the words she knew so well from one of the many Snow Patrol tunes that ran through the mix. "With my hands open, and my eyes open, I just keep hoping, that your heart opens." How many times had they sang that together in the car? How many times had they let the roll and lilt of the lead singer's voice just lift their spirits and bring the smile to their faces? When would they do that again? The song transitioned to yet another from the same band and her body swayed to the rhythm of the music and the pain that racked her.
Roary stood in the doorway to the room. He had drifted over when he heard the music, finding it intriguing that she would be playing one of his favorite Irish groups and somehow incongruous with the moment given how harsh the night seemed to him. Yet when he saw her, he understood this music connected to the boys. It was a root between them. He watched as she moved from song to song, letting the music pull the anguish out of her. Finally, he just could not stand on the outside looking in any longer. He crossed to her and pulled her gently to her feet. She didn't pull away, she simply rose up into him, her fists clenched around fistfuls of his shirt and curled into his heat, continuing to cry and rock.
He wrapped his arms around her. She seemed so small this way, not the proud, fierce towering woman she was when she faced the wind and waves, just small and fragile, incredibly breakable. He held her, taking the brunt of her anguish, trying very, very hard just to hold on but not to break her. Lin could feel little pieces of herself cracking, chipping, crumbling away. She felt an awful lot like Sean's teapot except she feared that there was no glue that would put her back together again. She clung to Roary's presence as if he could somehow keep the last vestiges from breaking down and crumbling apart. She began to try to pull herself together. It was not his responsibility to keep her from coming completely unglued. She tilted her head to thank him and was caught by his gaze.
They stood there in the haze of her grief and his unassuaged guilt, wrapped together by the music, looking for something in or from each other that neither could define. He kissed her then. It was meant to be nothing more than an acknowledgement of her pain. The kind of kiss you give a sore spot to make it better. But as their lips touched it seemed as if she simply breathed him in. He was lost in the swirl and twist of their entwined breath. Just that, nothing more, yet he could feel everything about her in that touch and knew she could feel him, his length and his depth all in that one exchange. The kiss hung there, suspended in time, until the music abruptly switched to an incredibly rowdy tune that sent them both laughing, breaking the tension and freeing them from the trance. Yet they found their way back together as the laughter ebbed and this time the kissing was more thorough, more questing and certainly more deliberate. They let their hands explore and tease and please as the rhythms swelled behind them until the edge of Sean's bed caught the back of her leg.
Lin was completely lost in him. Lost in a way she had sworn she would never let herself feel, had not thought she was capable of feeling actually. "Lord, the man can kiss," she thought briefly, before thought ripped away and instinct took over. She was flowing with sensation when she felt the hard line of the mattress behind her. Instantly she shifted modes. She pressed both hands to his chest, pushing him back so she could look at him. "No, Roary, no," she managed to get out. "Aye, ye'r right there," he sighed. He pulled her back to him and just held her. "This is not the time no' the place. Tho' I'm of the mind that the time will come for us. I don't think all that was just the music." He smiled down at her gently.
Lin looked at him and slowly, tentatively smiled back. "I guess that is something we will find out later. But for now, we need to concentrate on what's missing from this room." She moved away from him, gathered up the blankets and pillows she had somehow forgotten and left him to turn off the music.
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