"I love you."

"Ah, would you take that thing off before you say things like that?"

"I can't help it."

Assumpta bit back a smile. "I know." She was biting back the words as well, but then the lights flickered and went out.

"I'll go." Padraig offered but Assumpta needed a breather. Any second now one or the both of them would give the game away. She was half way down the steps when Peter caught her.

"Wait on." He flicked on a lighter. "I nicked it from behind the bar."

"I've taken on a thief have I?"

"I was going for handy around the house, but take it how you like it."

"Oh, I will." She continued down the stairs, nearly stumbling when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry, unfamiliar territory." He said.

"Ha." Unfamiliar territory indeed. "Isn't that what the lighter is for?"

"I'm afraid I'll set you on fire."

She laughed outright and stepped down onto the floor. He didn't need her for a hand-hold any more and she was disappointed when he loosened his grip. But then he brushed her hair aside and his breath on her neck served a meagre warning. He kissed her once, twice.

"I thought you were the one of us supposedly practised at self-control." The timbre of her voice surprised them both.

He cleared his throat and let her hair fall back in place.

"Not that I'm complaining." She turned, trying to see his face in the dark. It was no use. She reached, touched his cheek.

"Assumpta." Her name tripped from his lips, into the palm of her hand. He flicked the lighter twice and held a steady flame at eye-level.

"I know." She slipped her hand away and turned to the blasted fuse box.

"This is a mess." Peter said.

"Is that right?" As if she wasn't well aware. She went for the fuse.

"Wait." Peter reached up to turn off the mains but she hadn't paused. The jolt snapped through them both.

The lights shone for a moment then went out. Upstairs, the cheer of the crowd dissolved into a few distinct calls.

"Assumpta? Father?" Steps and more exclamations followed. Padrag's "Oh God," was followed by Brendan, "Michael, get down here." In moments the basement was full of people, crowding the pair on the ground. Quigley pulled out a lighter and held it over the scene.

Assumpta was half beneath the priest, but she was blinking, groaning, trying to move out from under his weight. "Oh my god." She half laughed.

"Are you alright?" Brendan asked in disbelief.

"I ah-" She began then turned to Peter and blanched. "Peter?" She reached for him, panicking when he didn't respond. She said his name again. Michael nudged past her and felt for a pulse.

"Brendan, do you know CPR?"

"Oh my god." Assumpta fell back, her hand over her mouth. Niamh moved to help her but she pushed her away. "Peter, say something." She begged, reaching out again as if her arms had minds of their own. "Peter, don't leave me."

"Assumpta." Niamh began, as if to scold, but Assumpta didn't hear her.

"I've got a pulse." Michael said tentatively. "It's not much. Did they say how far away that ambulance is?" He'd taken off the collar, opened Peter's top button. "Come on Peter." Michael nodded to Brendan to keep giving him breaths.

Assumpta groaned.

"Are you alright?" Michael turned to her.

She didn't even think, "I'm fine." But she couldn't quite manage to hide the pain.

"Keep going Brendan."

He turned to Assumpta. "I'm going to take off your shoes."

She shook her head. "No, just help Peter." She was pale, tears sluicing down her cheeks. "I'm fine. Just don't let him-"

Peter lurched.

Brendan sat back and the Doctor leaned over, speaking to Peter calm and clear.

Assumpta shook, confused – how could he be so calm? "Is he-?" She couldn't form a sentence.

"He's breathing." Michael exhaled relief. "Come on, let's clear some space."

Niamh stepped up and shepherded the crowd up, out of the cellar.

Assumpta moved around to see better, groaning all the while. "He's not breathing." She said, straining her eyes to see what she daren't believe.

"He is." Michael assured.

"Come on, Peter." Brendan sat back on his feet, watching Assumpta more than Peter. He caught sight of the burn on her hand and went for ice and water. She refused it all, knelt over Peter, shaking.

It seemed an interminable time before the ambulance arrived and they were half way to Cilldargen before Assumpta would let Michael look at her. She did as she was told without question or care, eyes fixed on Peter all the while.

"What about his feet?"

"They can wait."

"Why isn't he awake?"

"He's breathing, Assumpta. It's looking a lot better than it was."

The heart monitor beeped away reassuringly, then faltered again, but continued. She watched it, breathing through another wave of her own pain.

Michael reached for her other hand.

"It's fine." She said. "Can I touch him?"

Michael nodded. "Does he know?"

"What?"

"How you feel."

She looked him in the eye and eventually nodded.

"Good." Michael moved away.

"I suppose everyone does after..." Assumpta watched Peter and wondered what kind of mess he'd wake up to.

"Let's not worry about that now." Michael checked Peter's hands. "He wasn't touching the fuse?"

"No." Assumpta realised what had happened and reeled, "This is my fault."

"Assumpta-"

"He was touching me, that's why he got the worst of it. He told me to wait but I didn't. He was about to turn off the power."

"Where was he touching you?"

She gave him a look.

"The current passed between you. Was it his chest?"

"I don't know."

Michael pulled down the blanket and undid the rest of Peter's shirt, searching. "Oh thank god." He said.

"What?"

"It's his arm not his -"

Assumpta reached out and put her hand on his bare skin, over his heart. She couldn't feel it but the machine kept beeping.

They were separated on arrival at the hospital. Assumpta was checked over and checked out with nothing but a few bandages to show for it. She'd listened to her own heart monitor beep for a solid hour, and she'd have to do it again the next day, but she was desperate to hear Peter's. She found Michael in the hall, waiting. He stood and shepherded her to the seat, lifting her feet onto another chair immediately. "It can help with the pain."

"I don't care."

"Well, you should. This could be very difficult. Peter is going to need -"

"Say it."

"I was going to say he'll need you, but to be honest, I don't know how this is going to work."

"But he's going to be okay?"

"He was awake, briefly. He asked for you, and he understood where he was and what had happened, but he was in a lot of pain. They sedated him."

She gritted her teeth.

"I know it doesn't sound good, but it's better than I expected. They'll want him to stay here for a few days. I'll see if I can get them to keep him for longer, since there's no one to look after him at home."

"What?"

"He lives alone."

"I will."

He didn't say anything.

"It's not as presumptuous as it sounds."

"I didn't think it was presumptuous."

"Then what?"

"Father MacAnally was here earlier. I take it he was aware that you- ah."

She nodded. "Peter told him this morning – yesterday morning. What time is it?"

"Four."

She rested her head in her hand, barely containing tears.

"He'll pull through."

"Are you sure?"

He hesitated.

"Can I see him?" The tears spilled but they both ignored them.

"Of course." Michael led the way.