"Is this – " Doc Ryan fingered the bar, "Good God, it is."

"What?" Assumpta put his beer on the bar and started on the next. Everyone had come to see the spectacle and they'd stayed to drink a beer after the more dangerous bear had departed. Fine by her, but busier than she'd dealt with in some time. And she still wasn't feeling a hundred percent, but if she could manage no one would notice that.

"I think your friend left his mark." Doc Ryan was still looking at the bar.

She put down the drink and leaned over. There were scratch marks on the bar. "Her mark." She corrected, since Donal wasn't there to do it. The man was drowning his sorrows in the far corner, telling tales of his beloved bear as if this was a wake.

"You're very lucky." The Doc made to move away.

"Aren't I?"

Peter laughed at her potent sarcasm. She turned away.

"There are paw prints on the bar." Peter informed her later, up to his elbows in dishwater, though she still had a few punters going for long distance records on their last orders.

"Just a scratch."

He shook his head, "I still don't believe it."

"And you a man of faith."

"No, I meant – never mind."

She went back to the bar, returning with the last of the empties once she'd locked up.

"You alright?" He asked when she avoided eye contact, again.

"Tired."

"Of me?"

She sighed, looked at him. "Did you forget, or just didn't dare tell me for fear I'd have your head?"

"What have I forgotten?"

"So you just forgot?"

He looked utterly confused, then apologetic, then frustrated, and finally hurt. "What?"

"Father Mac popped in earlier."

"What did he say?" He turned his anger on the older priest.

"Not a lot. Gave me the phone number for a counselling service. Just in case."

His eyes went wide, "I told Father Mac."

She exhaled sharply and shook her head. "You forgot."

"I didn't want to keep you up last night."

"When has that stopped you?"

He looked at her seriously. "And then this morning it just went right out of my head."

"Yeah, I get it. You forgot. It happens."

He gritted his teeth. "What did he say to you?"

"Hardly a thing. The point is what you said to him."

"He half-guessed. I didn't plan to tell him. I needed to tell someone, I suppose. He was – I don't know. He's not all bad."

"I know." She crossed the room but stopped before touching him. "I know. Brendan's not exactly available for confession, and on this of all topics, and Father O'Connell's a bit, ah, fresh." She picked up a tea towel. "You can always confide in me."

He gave his sudsy hands a haphazard dry-off on his trousers then hugged her tight. After a moment's surprise and another moment's futile grasping at her rage, she gave in and put her arms around him. "You can tell me, you know, even the stuff I'll never agree with or understand."

"Okay." He loosened his hold on her, kissed her hair, then let her go. "But the only thing I said to him, that I haven't said to you, was," he shook his head, "you seemed to pick it up anyway, sending me off like you did this morning."

She waited, not wanting to put words in his mouth.

"It's not that I can't pray – it's just, I don't know how to even begin, how to ask or answer anything. I get half way through saying words I've said a thousand times and then realise I don't mean them, not really, not now." He sighed, reached out for her hand. "I want to but I can't quite manage it. And this is what those old prayers are there for, for when you don't know what to say otherwise, but I get stuck no matter, on the old ones or my own bumbling attempts at – "

"Oh Peter." She reached up and hugged him, pushing away every response that came to mind.

"I know it will pass." He leaned into her. "I hope it will pass. Knowing anything at all with any certainty feels a bit out of reach, to be honest."

She held his face between her hands, kissed his forehead, an eye brow, his nose, a lip, his chin. "Know that I love you."

He nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. He kissed her before it escaped. She pushed her hands up under his shirt and pulled him closer. He tried to keep a little distance, distracting her with dizzying kisses, but she wouldn't be kept at bay.

"Let's call it a night." She said, breath haggard, then kissed him again.

"There isn't much more here." He pulled away but she stepped in, her hip going up against him just right. He took a sharp breath. "You are barely recovered. This isn't a good idea."

"It's an excellent idea." She pulled the plug from the sink. "Trust me."

"Assumpta-" he warned.

"I'm sure. Alright?" She switched off the light.

He stood in the dregs of street light and moon light, and watched her. She was waiting for him. Remarkable. He nodded once and followed her upstairs.

"I feel I should clarify," she sat on the bed to take off her shoes. "This is not some kind of a reward."

"I didn't think it was," He sat beside her, already half-undressed, and reached over to kiss his neck. "I do now, though." He couldn't resist.

She stood up fast and he fell into the gap. Then dizziness hit her. She leaned on the wall, room spinning.

"You alright?" He was on his feet, at her side, instantly.

"Just dizzy." She sat on the bed, then lay down. "It's nothing. Low blood pressure."

"You have low blood pressure?" He switched off the light and tugged the covers out from under her.

"Just now, it's no surprise."

He lay on his side, watching her closely. "You should rest."

She propped herself up, "It's a miracle really, my blood pressure isn't through the roof with you – "

He kissed her. She tried to pull away, to finish her rant, but he put his weight into her and rolled her back, his arms wending around her. "I'll do my best," he said, lifting her shirt. He pressed his face to her breast, kissing the underside as he scooped his hands beneath her and tugged off her pants.

"There's a good man." She shifted, aiding his undressing.