Susan had just finished checking on Cecily for the final time tonight when she noticed the low light coming from the nearest outbuilding. That's odd, she thought, slipping on her dressing gown. She couldn't imagine who was out and about this late at night. One last peek, and she was quietly down the steps and out the door, heading into the warm night.
Standing in the doorway of the lambing hut, Susan watched Seamus. He was pacing like a caged animal, kicking up hay and straw with every erratic movement. His hair was loose and wild, flying in his face, his hands fumbling to keep it away from his mouth and eyes as he turned, pausing on the balls of his feet. He never looked directly at her, but she couldn't imagine that with all those years spent on the Belfast streets that he wouldn't notice her there now. Observation was survival; she knew that from her last year at Hogwarts, but his life had changed dramatically after that living day to day on his own, a traumatized shell of the boy she knew at school. He continued to ignore her, finally finding himself near the supporting beam in the center of the hut.
He smashed both fists into the beam, causing Susan to jump in fright. She stepped back, wondering if she had made a mistake in bringing him here, to her home, so close to her child. She knew what he had done; about the men he'd murdered, but she also knew that wasn't the man she knew in school. She hesitated, not wanting to leave him, but also not wanting to interrupt or startle him. She didn't know him very well; he had only been at the Loch for a few weeks, still recuperating from his injuries. She turned to go, deciding to leave him in his anger, but then he took hold of the timber with both hands and leaned his forehead against it. His hair fell forward, shielding his face from her and then as suddenly as he had become angered, he stilled. He sat down, knees drawn up to his chest, head resting on them.
He was breathing deeply, eyes closed. He didn't look up or react at all when Susan approached him, her bare feet crunching on the straw. She kneeled in front of him, covering his hands with one of hers, the other sweeping the long strands back from his face to touch his cheek with the back of her hand.
"Why?" he whispered.
"Why?" she repeated.
He lifted his head, looking hopeless as he stared into her eyes. His eyes were the color of the sky and as light as hers were dark. He barely blinked, repeating his question, even more hushed than the first time. "Why'd ya bring me here?"
"Everyone deserves a second chance, Seamus."
"Even me, love?" He should have sounded teasing. There was a twinkle missing in his eyes.
She bent her head down, kissing the back of his hand. "Everyone, Seamus. It will get better for you. Each day will be a better one." She pushed his hair behind his ear. "You'll see. Now get some rest. If you're well enough to tear up the hut, you're well enough to work, and there's much to do on the farm in the morning. Mornings here start earlier than what you're used to, I imagine. "
"Idle hands are the devil's playthings," he winked.
"Then you've nothing to worry about, Seamus Finnigan. No one here has idle hands."
She laughed, standing, tugging on his hands that she still held. He got to his feet readily and followed her out of the hut.