In which Martin needs to explain

Martin's feeling nervous when he opens the front door.

More than nervous.

Terrified.

He really doesn't want to tell Rhiannon, but Douglas made him promise that he would. And he was feeling a bit better about it, right until the moment when he walked up the path.

He wishes he hadn't got to tell her, wishes Douglas hadn't made him promise, wishes she hadn't got to know. But he's got to tell her.

It's late, but Rhiannon's waiting up for him, curled up on the settee, in her dressing-gown, a book on her knee. She looks up and smiles.

'Good trip, cariad? How was Palermo? Everything go all right?'

He really, really doesn't want to tell her. But Douglas made him promise. But suddenly Martin has this dreadful feeling that it might not be the right thing to do. He'd meant to be calm, to just say that there was something he needed to tell her, something she needed to know about. What was it Douglas had said? Just tell her, Martin. She'll understand. It'll be all right. But what if it isn't? What if she doesn't understand?

What if she leaves me when she finds out?

And Christ, who could blame her if she does?

And so, because he's so very, very frightened and he can feel the dreadful, shaming tears starting - oh dear God, why can't I stop doing this? - he just blurts out 'Rhi? I - I'm autistic.'

-o0o-

She doesn't looked shocked, doesn't look horrified. She just reaches out to him and says 'Come and sit down, my love, and tell me about it.'

And she puts her arms around him and holds him while he talks.

-o0o-

There's a lot he hasn't told her - never intended to tell her, never wanted her to know. A lot he doesn't want her to know, because he's too ashamed of himself, of what he is. But he's tired, and frightened, and she's so comforting, holding him as though he were a child, gently loving him. So, before he can stop himself, he tells her more than he means to - about Simon and Caitlin being so close in age to each other that a much younger brother was an embarrassment, especially a much younger brother who wanted to be an aeroplane; about how they and their friends taunted him, especially after he was diagnosed as being mildly autistic; especially because of his autism; about how he was never able to make friends with anyone because he just didn't know how to, and so he was just that weird skinny ginger kid who stuttered and was obsessed with planes and fell over a lot because he had an inner ear problem, and who was always the target for bullies because he cried so easily.

About how his mother still tells him that he was such a disappointment to his father.

About how lonely he's always been, knowing that he doesn't fit in because there's something wrong with him.

What it's like to know that you're not normal.

And Rhiannon just goes on holding him tight and making little soothing noises. And he really doesn't want to tell her, but he can't stop, Christ, what must she think of me? But it's just so easy to talk to her - it always has been. And so he tells her about how it hurt failing his exams so many times, about how he'd never had a chance to make his dad proud of him, because of Dad dying just before he finally got his licence. How much it hurt that his dad left him an old van and a multimeter. How he's never told his family that he worked for MJN for nothing, because he can't bear to think how Simon and Caitlin would gloat. How he still doesn't know how to get on with people, how he always manages to do and say the wrong things, how he always feels as if he's on the outside, watching other people doing the right thing, not knowing how to do the right thing himself. Not knowing how to join in. Getting it wrong when he tries to join in.

About not liking himself very much.

About not liking himself at all.

And she just listens, and holds him until he stops talking, stops crying. She just listens and comforts him. She's just - just Rhiannon. His Rhiannon.

-o0o-

Rhiannon's angry, but she's not going to let Martin know that. She's not going to risk him thinking that she's angry with him. She's angry for him. Because what's happened to him is nothing short of abuse.

When he stops shaking, she kisses his forehead and gets up very slowly.

'Poor love. You have had it rough, haven't you? All your life.'

'W - what are you going to do?'

She smiles at him gently. Lovely Rhiannon, who surely can't want him now - not now that she knows.

'Right now? Right now I'm going to make us a cup of tea, get you something to eat, and then we're going to bed. You're exhausted.'

'Don't leave me, Rhi.'

'Only while I make the tea, sweetheart.'

'No - I mean - please don't walk out on me. Please, Rhi - you - you're all I've got.'

'I'm not going to do that, cariad. I've got no reason to.'

'Even though I'm so pathetic - so - so abnormal?'

Rhiannon knows exactly what it's like to crave affection, to need to be accepted.

'You're not pathetic, Martin. Or abnormal. Don't you ever think that about yourself, sweetheart. You just need someone to love you and look after you, that's all. Someone to make you feel better about yourself. Go on up to bed - I'll bring you a cup of tea and some toast. Don't look so worried - I'm not going to run away in the middle of the night in my dressing-gown.'

When she goes into the bedroom, he's lying face down on the bed, fully dressed, fast asleep. She manages to slip his shoes off without waking him, wriggles under the duvet and snuggles next to him.

So that's what's behind it, that's all it is - mild autism. But the constant bullying? Just look how they've damaged you. No wonder you've no self-confidence.

You'll take a lot of mending, Martin Crieff. But you're worth it.

-o0o-

When Martin wakes, Rhiannon's still holding him tight. She smiles at him sleepily.

'Good afternoon, my handsome Captain. Do you realise we've slept through the whole morning? You needed that, didn't you? To sleep - and to talk.'

'Rhi, I'm so sorry - '

'Hush, love. You don't ever need to say you're sorry to me. You've just been so very, very lonely, that's all. And frightened. But we've got each other now. No need for you to be frightened any more.'

She understands, he realises. She never judges him. She just - understands him. She's just - just Rhiannon. His Rhiannon.

Another chapter written (sadly, perhaps) from experience.

Thanks, as always, to Launa Alvara for the comfort/advice/reassurance that comes from having to beta my writing!