Author's note: I'm out of canon again here for the first part, morning after the lock-in / private party. As I've said, the timing of The Reckoning is so condensed (just three days by my reckoning (pun intended)) and I just felt we needed a little bit more to get them to where they need to get by the end of the day. As ever, I hope that it's believable within canon even though it's strictly out of it.


Peter, early October 1998

Peter's eye had been caught by Fitzgerald's open door, which was unusual this early in the morning. He'd come out, after early morning mass, for milk from Hendley's and, as always, hadn't been able to resist the urge to look over to the pub. The night before, which had been a lovely evening with his friends, had had a somewhat unexpected ending and, though he was sure that Assumpta could handle Ambrose, he'd had a thought that she might be burdened this morning tidying up after their after-hours gathering and the ongoing problems with the electrics.

He made his way over the street, milk in hand, and stuck his head in the door. Assumpta was fiddling with the coffee machine, her back towards him.

"Everything ok?" he said, hoping he wouldn't startle her.

She turned towards him.

"Oh, hi, yes, just sorting things out after last night."

He looked around the bar. It was obvious she hadn't done any of the tidying up last night.

"Do you need any help?"

"I can only pay you in coffee" she said with a smile.

"Coffee is fine!"

He started moving glasses and plates from the pub tables to the kitchen and then emptying the ash trays. Assumpta wiped down the surfaces and emptied the bins. They worked in companionable silence and had the place looking ready for service fairly quickly.

"I need to wash up" Assumpta said once they were done. "Do you want to bring the coffee in?" she nodded her head towards the kitchen and the pile of dirty glasses.

Peter brought the pot of coffee through to the kitchen as Assumpta started filling the sink. He poured two cups and sat down.

"Shall I dry?" he offered, feeling bad for just sitting whilst she worked but also knowing how fiercely she prized managing on her own.

"Ah no, that's ok. You've earned your coffee. Also…"

She paused, lifting her hands out of the bubbly water and shaking them dry.

"…I thought you might want to look at these."

She picked an old envelope up from a pile next to the kettle, using just the corner to stop them from getting too wet, and dropped them on the table in front of him. She took a sip of coffee and returned to the sink as he raised one eyebrow at her.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see…"

He opened the envelope and pulled out a wad of photographs. He smiled as he realised what they were. The first photo was a woman with Assumpta's auburn hair and alabaster skin holding a baby, smiling bashfully at the camera.

"This is your mum?" he said, pointing at the woman.

Assumpta turned from the sink again and nodded.

"She looks like you."

"Yeah, everyone says that."

He flicked through the photos slowly, as he finished his coffee and poured another from the pot. He smirked at the photos of Niamh, Ambrose and Assumpta as young teens, clearly still in that awkward adolescent phase and skipped quickly past the ones of a young Leo with his arm around Assumpta. The final photo was a teenage Assumpta out the front of Fitzgerald's dressed in a mini skirt and sunglasses, clearly posing for the camera with her arms raised above her head. It was a beautiful and candid shot; Assumpta looked happy, carefree and almost reckless. He looked at it for some time, enjoying seeing her so happy, and he thought of the photo of him and Susie at home; they must've been about the same age in the two photos.

"Is there a story behind this one?" he said, eventually.

Assumpta turned to look at the photo and smiled.

"Oh yeah! This is me just before I went to my very first music festival - in County Tipperary. If I recall correctly, Van Morrison was headlining."

She dried her hands and came over to the table, taking the photo from Peter's hand.

"You look happy" said Peter, simply.

"I was," she nodded, "I was so excited, I couldn't believe that mum was letting me go, and it didn't disappoint, it was perfect."

She was looking at the photo wistfully. Peter thought she looked as beautiful as she'd ever done and he ran out of words. They sat there together for a few minutes neither speaking, drinking their coffee. Peter felt the familiar conflict surfacing in his mind; if he was really meant to be a priest then why did he want to stay here with her forever?

It was Assumpta who broke the silence.

"I sometimes wish I could find this version of me again."

Peter thought again of the photo of him and Susie, young, carefree and in love.

"I know what you mean."

She got up to finish the dishes and he drained his coffee and headed back to St Joseph's.


Assumpta, early October 1998

Assumpta stepped out from the pub into the chill of the autumnal evening, clutching her bottle of wine. The weather had been unseasonably warm, but there was a definite autumn chill now the sun had gone down. She often took an evening off mid-week, relying on there being fewer punters, usually just popping out to Niamh's or watching TV upstairs. Tonight, she'd left Brendan watching bar, assuming she wouldn't be back late. Despite telling Ambrose where to get off earlier, she'd always planned on turning up to babysit for Niamh's sake. She checked her watch, she was a bit later than she'd planned because she'd had to sort the fuse out yet again before leaving for the evening, but she figured they'd still easily make it to Cildargen in time for dinner.

She hurried down the street towards to the Gard's house. It'd been an eventful couple of days, with Peter's return and a court summons for after-hours drinking, and she figured some time to relax in front of the TV at the Egans would probably do her some good, even if some of the drama was Ambrose's doing. Fundamentally she knew Ambrose was only doing his job, even if it drove her mad sometimes. She wasn't especially worried given that Ambrose couldn't possibly have seen her serving any drinks, she wasn't even sure she had done after-hours, they'd mostly been eating the Thai food and talking; it hardly felt criminal anyway.

It'd been nice having Peter back, both in the village but also in the pub and in her life. He'd come over to Fitzgerald's last night around 8pm and then stayed all evening, including trying the Thai food with Brendan, Siobhan and Padraig. It hadn't been since before Leo, before Kilnashee probably, that he'd done that. She counted back in her mind, that must be about four months at least. And he'd popped in this morning to help and for coffee. Things were definitely good between them and, right now, that was enough. If she stopped to think about things too much, about the fact that she'd ended her marriage because she was in love with him, then it did threaten to overwhelm her, but her solution for now was not to think about it and to enjoy being friends. He was a priest, nothing had changed on that score, and so there was nothing more to dwell on.

She reached Niamh and Ambrose's and tried the front door, which was open.

"Hi" she called down, as she took off her coat.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"Hi?" came back an unexpected yet deeply familiar voice.

"Peter?"