Author's Note: We're nearly there folks. Big thanks to LMS5XP for some much-needed consultation on this chapter (I hope you're happy with what I've gone with!). I've mapped the rest out and I think there'll be three more chapters and, as promised at the start, we'll follow canon but end before the tragedy.


Peter, October 1998

Peter splashed water from the tap onto his face, relishing the sting of the cold water on his hot face. He hoped the chill would help his mind to focus, so that he could think. He needed to think.

He'd kissed Assumpta. Whether he'd meant to or not, he'd broken his vows physically now, as well as the countless times he'd yielded in his mind and in his dreams. Was it just another moment of weakness, of temptation, or did there come a point where you had to accept defeat, accept that you could no longer be a priest? It felt like this was another major step away from the church, but not in a planned thought-through way. He didn't want to throw away his vocation accidentally, that didn't feel like it would be doing right by either Assumpta or God, but equally perhaps this was God's way of showing him that he wasn't cut out for the priesthood and should get married instead?

Peter tried to think back to when he'd ever even entertained the possibility of getting married before. Certainly never with Jennie, probably to his shame, and prior to that probably with no one other than Susie; and that had only been in an eighteen year old sort of 'maybe in the future' way. He'd not had a long term girlfriend after Susie and gone straight from University to Seminary. Being a priest, a single man, had so long been his identity, the answer to the 'who am I?' question, the shape of his existence, that actually seriously contemplating being something else was terrifying. Who was he without the collar? What sort of man would be be? What sort of husband? Despite thinking about Assumpta almost every waking moment and many non-waking ones, he'd never seriously considered a life where he was free to marry her. He'd imagined it sometimes, dreamt of it often in that vague dreamlike way, but never actually thought about it rationally - because he'd never, until now, until his vows lay in tatters anyway, really seen that as something he would ever dare to do. It was like that door had been so tightly sealed up when he became a priest that it just didn't occur to his rational brain to consider it and even more so after Assumpta had gotten married and closed her door too. But now, now he knew he needed to somehow dare to open that door, consider it and chose between pursuing that road, wherever that lead him, or sticking with what he knew and who he had pledged himself to be in front of God.

A sudden insistent hammering on the door brought him back to the present and he dried his face quickly before opening the door.

"What are you playing at? What are you trying to do to me?"

Assumpta's voice was raised and it instinctively made him uncomfortable, his priest identity kicking back in.

"Assumpta, please…"

He tried to shepherd her through the door and away from listening ears.

"Oh, that's what it is, you're worried about the neighbours now?"

She stalked inside and he closed the door.

"Well?"

She turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something. He felt momentarily frustrated with her thinking that he could read her mind, and that he was ready. His mind was still churning.

"Well what? What do you want me to say?

Now it was her turn to look frustrated.

"What do you want?"

What did he want? He wished it was that simple. What he wanted was some sort of parallel world where he could do right by Assumpta and by the church; where he didn't have to hurt one to have the other. Or to have met Assumpta at university… that was a fantasy he'd played out in his head many a time…

"It's not that simple"

"It is that simple!"

She shot back at him straight away, getting into her stride. But she was wrong; it wasn't simple, not for him.

"Not from where I'm standing"

"Oh for God's sake Peter, we have moved on!"

She was right, they had moved on. He had moved them on, by kissing her he had moved them from friends to something else. He knew it, and he knew he owed her an explanation and a decision, but he just couldn't at the moment. He'd moved them on too quickly, without thinking of the consequences, without knowing what he really wanted. He loved her, O God, he loved her, but he was a priest; he thought he'd be a priest for the rest of his days, it wasn't small for him to even consider giving that up, it was huge.

"I'm a Catholic priest"

"Goes with the territory"

He sighed. One day he'd work hard to find out what was at the root of her dislike of the church, but for now he probably just needed to let that barb go.

"Cheap shot"

"It's the truth."

She paused and he wasn't sure what she meant. He didn't want to fight, he knew she was angry, he understood why, but he needed to get things straight in his head so he could be sure of what he was doing.

"For you and me, it's the truth."

She made her way past him as she spoke, making to leave. It felt like there was a chasm between them. It was the truth that they had moved on, that was undeniable, but he was still a priest and so things weren't simple, whatever she thought. He hated that there was such a gulf between them though; it wasn't how he wanted things to be between them.

"Assumpta…"

He called to her instinctively, wanting to be reconciled, wanting to be able to calm her down as he had done countless times before. She turned back to him, and her face softened visibly. His breath caught at her beautiful vulnerability; he knew very few people got to see that and he wished he could just freeze her in that moment whilst he worked out what to say to her. Time didn't stand still though, and he suddenly became uncomfortable again, knowing she was expecting him to say something and just not being able to form any words. The vulnerability faded and her shutters came back up in exasperation.

"You know what you're going to go and do now? You're going to go and discuss this in a wooden box with a grown man in a frock, and you won't talk to me!"

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember her how she was before and not now in her anger with him, and with his faith.

"I will"

He would, he would talk to her. He owed her that.

"I just need to think."

"It's not what's in your head I need to hear!"

And for the second time that evening she ran out on him into the dark. He wanted to scream after her that he loved her, that his heart burst with love for her, that that wasn't in doubt; it was just everything else.


Assumpta, October 1998

Assumpta sat at the empty bar in the semi-darkness. A single glass of red wine on the counter. Her head pounding.

After she'd stormed out of Peter's, nearly getting run over in the process, she'd raced back to the pub and kicked everyone, including the regulars, out despite it only being 10:45pm. Clearly everyone sensed her mood, maybe blaming it on the court hearing in the morning, as they'd all cleared out sharpish. She'd tidied and cleaned the bar, with the radio blaring as she did to try and drown out her thoughts. It might've worked had the radio not decided to only play love songs. She'd managed Aerosmith and The Goo Goo Dolls, but Savage Garden tested her and K-Ci & JoJo was the final straw.

And all my life

I prayed for someone like you

And I thank God

That I, that I finally found you

Cause all my life, I prayed for someone like you

And I hope that you do love me too

And I hope that you feel the same way too

She'd snapped the radio off in anger at this point, instead pouring and downing a glass of house red and then topping up a second glass. Sitting now, alone in the stillness, her mind was racing.

She was desperate for some sort of clarity from Peter, even just an idea of what he was thinking, of what he wanted. Was this just another wobble or crisis or was it different? It had felt different earlier, in the Egans' kitchen; it had felt like they'd come to a point of no return, a moment of reckoning, but all Peter had given her tonight was awkward silence. She knew she'd probably gone in too hard, but she'd watched for him at the window for ages and almost convinced herself he'd do the decent thing and come and find her once he left the Egans, so when she'd watched him going back to his house, not even looking up at the pub, her anger and frustration had bubbled over and she'd arrived at his door angry and upset.

Assumpta took another sip of wine. She still couldn't really believe he'd not manage to say anything to her, nothing other than the 'I'm a priest' refrain he'd given her before. Before he'd kissed her, before he'd admitted he was always thinking of her, before he had moved things on thing on, him not her. She wanted him to fight for her, like the singers of all those songs.

Even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you baby

And I don't want to miss a thing

Was that true for Peter? She longed for it to be; she was so tired of being in love with him and feeling so lonely. Love was meant to be exhilarating and exciting, not depressing and lonely. Yet here she was, in love and alone. She just didn't know how long she could keep doing this; at some point something was going to have to give.

She downed the rest of the wine, turned the lights off and went upstairs to bed.