Series 5, Episode 4.5

"Crushing Blows"

Peter had always liked hospitals. He liked the quiet and the clean, the nuns and doctors, the patients looking for hope or reassurance or a moment of grace. He was also one of those rare people who liked giving last rights – not because of the death that was imminent, but because it was a gift he could give, an easing he could offer, a piece of God working through him to touch a soul. But lately he'd come to understand why people were so apprehensive in hospitals, and as he walked down the corridor he didn't notice the clean or the nuns or even the patients tucked away behind open doors. It was Father Mac lying in the bed when he slowly opened the door, not some stranger looking for solace, and he looked far older than Peter had ever seen him.

Dr. Ryan sat beside the bed, and he waved Peter in.

"Oh, I can come back," Peter said.

"No, it's all right. I need to write a few things up," Michael said. "Sit with him for a bit. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"I'm all right," Father Mac insisted, though his voice seemed unusually thin to Peter's ear. "I feel good."

"You had a heart attack," Michael told him, "you can't take this lightly any longer. Strict bed rest for a few days and then we'll talk about diet and exercise."

Father Mac rolled his eyes. "A fate worse than death."

The doctor stood, and asked Peter, "How's Assumpta feeling?"

"She says better, but she still looks like rubbish."

"Couldn't get her to stay in bed, could you?"

Peter had to shake his head no. "You know Assumpta."

Michael glanced over his shoulder at his patient. "I know she doesn't have a monopoly on stubbornness. I'll be back to check on you tonight."

Father Mac gave a dismissive wave of his hand, and Michael leaned closer to Peter. "Please stay only five minutes. He really does need to rest."

As the doctor left, Peter took the seat next to Father Mac and offered a smile he hoped wasn't too forced.

Father Mac rolled his eyes again, and grumbled with a glare to the closing door, "That man is going to make me exercise."

"And eat your vegetables," Peter commiserated. "I don't envy you."

Father Mac narrowed his eyes at Peter. "Have you come here to mock me?"

"I was worried."

"About me? Nonsense," Father Mac dismissed.

Peter shrugged, glanced out the window. "You're my priest," he said.

"There are other priests."

"Not like you."

"No. Not anymore. And yet…"

Peter looked up to find Father Mac staring at him. "What?"

"How are things, Peter?"

For a moment he thought to say everything was fine, but he couldn't lie to Father Mac, not even for his own piece of mind. And, very likely it wouldn't have been a successful lie, anyway. Peter had always been rubbish at that. He could successfully be politic, but never dishonest.

"Things are difficult."

Father Mac smiled in his apologetic way. "Well," he said on a sigh, "you knew it would be. Assumpta Fitzgerald has never promised to be anything but difficult."

"Leo is back in town."

"Is he?" Peter could tell that the priest tried not to react, but he wasn't at the top of his game, and his eyes gave him away.

"Yeah. I know." Peter had to look away. "I worry I'm not enough for her."

"I did warn you."

I know. But she's agreed to marry me."

"Oh? Agreed? Well, there's a declaration of love if ever I heard one."

"She does love me!"

"Of that I have little doubt," Father Mac conceded. He touched Peter's hand, gave it a reassuring pat. A fatherly pat. "It may be a while before I'm up to performing a full mass for you."

"Oh," Peter said, interrupting before too many assumptions were made. "No, Father. I'm sorry, but she won't have you. It'll have to be Father O'Neill."

For a moment Father Mac looked at Peter with the strangest of looks, something between amusement and disappointment. Then, the amusement won out, and he smiled. "I can't say I'm all together surprised. In fact, I'm a bit shocked she agreed to marry in the Church."

Peter smiled broadly. "That's how I know she loves me."

"Yes." Father Mac sighed, and then he took a moment to study Peter's face. He had to fight the urge to squirm. "Is this what you really want, Peter? Is she what you really want?"

"More than anything."

"Then I wish you well. I will pray for you.

"Thank you, Father. I will pray for you, too."

They'd been crying for the better part of an hour, and Assumpta looked it, so Leo reasoned that he must, too. His back was killing him, and the two beers hadn't helped. He was halfway through his third, but his stomach was starting to bother him, so he set it next to his empties and stared down at the floor framed by his two splayed feet propped up on the coffee table. Assumpta sat at the other end of the couch, her legs tucked up under her. A box of tissues was between them.

"Listen…I'm knackered," Leo said, because it was true, and because there was so much that simply couldn't be voiced. It was easy to focus on the physical and the immediate, and if he couldn't make love to her, then he just wanted to sleep. "Can I book a room here, or will it be a problem."

"Of course you'll stay here."

He glanced at her, surprised by the ease of her response. She'd already thought about it, considered it, and decided. "You know, I wasn't at all sure you'd see me," he admited. "I thought maybe you'd moved on. Didn't want to look back."

"I nearly called you a hundred times in the last eight months."

He hadn't expected that; the admission or the implication. "Really?"

"I needed a friend."

She didn't look at him when she said it. Funny, because he couldn't look away. "You should've called. I would've come."

"I know. I think that's why I didn't. It would've been…"

"Awkward?"

"A mistake." Like a knife through the heart. Even without meaning to Assumpta always seemed to strike true.

"That's right. Kick a man on the worst day of his life."

"Oh, Leo, I didn't mean…I'm sorry!"

He didn't want her to feel guilty. Not when she was finally being straightforward with him. "No, it's all right," he told her. "I understand. In a way, it's nice that you're so brutally honest with me again. It feels like old times."

"I wasn't honest with you when we were married."

And now it was his turn. "No," he said frankly.

"I'm sorry for that, too."

And, because he had her talking, because his every nerve was raw and frayed, because he was searching for something, anything to cling to, he asked, "Did you ever love me?"

"There's no good answer to that question."

"How about," he pressed, "if you'd never met him, would we still be married?"

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a brief moment of pain. And then slowly, quietly she admitted, "If I'd never met him we never would've been married."

And there it was. "Brutal," he quipped, but it came out dark and strangled.

"I love him," she said, as if he didn't know. As if he needed the words spelled out for him, as if the knife in his heart wasn't shoved in deep enough.

"So why didn't you almost call me a hundred times?"

She crossed her arms tightly. "Because you were right when you said that you know me better than anyone else on this planet. And because you were right when you said I can't have that with anyone else."

"Not even Peter?"

She smiled, and it churched in Leo's gut. She was thinking of him, he could see it in her face. "Peter is in a constant state of discovery."

"But he doesn't understand you."

"He tries to."

"It's not the same thing."

"No, it's not," Assumpta agreed.

"You should've called me."

"No."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have come!" He couldn't sit beside her any longer, and so he flung himself up to standing, collected his bottles and took them into the kitchen. A room away he was able to breathe again, able to get his hurt under control. Everything hurt him at that moment, and every part of him wanted to yell and shout and rage.

When he turned, she was standing against the kitchen wall, arms still crossed, looking exhausted. "Is this how it's going to be between us? Will you ever be able to forgive me?"

He leaned against the workbench look for stability and the strength to tell her no. "I don't know," he finally told her. "God, I miss you so much."

"I miss you, too. You have no idea how many of those hundred times I wished we'd left things differently between us. I really needed a friend."

He knew what she meant. She was remembering that summer in France, and now he was remembering it, too. "We were great friends."

"I know."

"But we were great lovers, too."

She sighed. "So, this is how it's going to be, eh?"

"Are you really going to marry him? I'm half surprised to see you haven't already." When she nodded, he added, "Well, next time do it in a church, will you? So it won't be so easily annulled."

"Leo, I'm sorry."

"Yeah…I know."

"And about Anna. She was the smartest, gentlest person I've-"

"Don't!" And then he caught himself, and started again. "Please. I'm tired. I just can't anymore."

"All right. I'll get you a room key." But when she turned she wobbled, and Leo reached out to steady her.

"Are you okay?"

"Sick," she said.

And she was, he could see it around her eyes, in the tension around her mouth. "Assumpta, I didn't come here to argue, or to win you back."

"I know."

"I was sitting in the hospital last night after they stitched me up, staring at the organ donation papers with Anna's name on them – I've never felt so completely…"

"Alone," Assumpta finished for him. "I know."

"I want you in my life," Leo said. "I still need you."

"Even if we're just friends?"

"We started out as friends," Leo reminded her.

She smiled. "Yeah."

Niamh was watching the stair as she poured a pint, anxiously debating whether or not to ignore Peter's orders and march up to Assumpta's flat. How long had they been up there? More than an hour, but had it been two? And where was Peter? How long did it take to visit Father Mac, anyway? It's not like they would take the time to catch up now, was it? The man was in hospital, after all.

She placed the pint on the bar and took the offered coins. When she looked over again, there were feet on the stairs, and then jeans. Assumpta slowly made her way down the stairs, and Niamh hurried over to meet her.

"Well?" she demanded, irritated that her friends just stood there looking all tired and sickly instead of spilling her guts like a normal person.

"Well what?"

"Is Leo back, is what!"

"Oh, Niamh, don't start, all right?"

So he was back then. "Well, he can stay at my place if you like. I can put the boys in together and-"

"He's got a room," Assumpta snapped, and then walked around Niamh to the bar.

"A room of his own?" Niamh asked, following.

Assumpta whirled around. "Why don't you ask what you really want to know? I'm not cheating on Peter!"

At least she'd said it, it was out there. "It would be cheating, you know. Everyone knows he's basically living with you."

Assumpta winced as she pulled herself up on to one of the bar stools. "Yeah, well, we'll be married soon, so people will have to start gossiping about something else, won't they?"

"Married! Really?" And suddenly Niamh's head was full of flowers and white bells and ribbons and lace. And Assumpta finally walking down the aisle. She couldn't help herself, she jumped at Assumpta and gave her a celebratory hug. "We'll have a party – a real hen party – and the reception will be here, of course, but we'll need dresses and music and-"

"No. Stop right there. This is going to be a quiet wedding."

"Are you serious? After everything the two of you have been through, you deserve a celebration! Balloons!"

"I can't afford it," Assumpta said, and Niamh realized her friend wasn't half as excited about a wedding as she was. "And quite frankly, if it's going to be very soon, I don't have the energy to plan anything bigger than a mass."

"Well, surely Peter will wait until you're feeling better."

"I hope not," Assumpta said, scratching a nail over the lip of the bar. "I think I'm nearly two months gone already."

It took a moment for Niamh to register what Assumpta had let drop, and then another for her voice to find its way through the shock. Obviously she's misheard. Hadn't she? "What?"

"Well, Peter and I have been…together for about seven weeks, give or take-"

"Assumpta! You're pregnant?"

All heads turned, and Assumpta hid behind her hand. "Thanks for that."

"Oh, they didn't hear anything," Niamh told her, leaning closer and continuing in a whisper. "Are you certain?"

"Michael is supposed to stop by today. I'll ask him for a test."

"But you're late?"

"I forgot to take a couple of pills when we first got together, and didn't realize it until I got to the end of the month and had some left over."

"Peter must be beside himself."

Assumpta winced. "I've not told him yet."

"What?"

"Well, I've only just figured it out myself, and…and I wanted to be sure I could marry him before – I didn't want to marry him because he insisted, and you know he would insist if there were a baby."

"Oh, my God, Assumpta! A baby!"

"Yeah, I know," she said grimly. "But I expect Peter will be happy enough, and he'll be a loving and attentive father."

"You make it sound like you'll have nothing to do with it."

"Well, I'm feeling very involved right now," she quiped, "but I expect, once it arrives…"

"You'll be the mother, Assumpta."

"Doesn't that sound frightening to you?"

"No," Niamh said emphatically, "it sounds wonderful."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Exciting?" Niamh suggested.

"Nauseating?" Assumpta teased.

"You're happier about this than you want to let on. I can tell."

Assumpta sighed. "Yeah, well…I am. I think. But things were starting to get easier between Peter and me, and now this just throws another cog in the works. Everything is forever complicated between us, and I was hoping for a little…I don't know…easy, I guess. I mean, he worries I don't smile enough, what's he going to be like when he find out about this?"

"You don't smile enough."

Assumpta conceded with a shrug. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Does Leo know? About the baby?"

"I'm not going to tell Leo before I tell Peter!"

"Well, you told me."

"Yeah. I think I just needed to hear it out loud. It doesn't seem real. All I've got to show for it, really is dizziness and nausea."

Over Assumpta's shoulder she saw Leo painfully making his way down the stairs. She straightened, letting Assumpta know it wasn't safe to talk anymore, and then gave a casual, "What can I get you, Leo?"

"Got anything for a headache?"

Niamh nodded, and pulled a bottle of tablets from her purse.

Leo leaned playfully into Assumpa, knocked his shoulder lightly against hers. "Talking about me, were you?"

She smirked. "Niamh is curious as to where you're sleeping."

"Ah," he said. "Sure, thank you for the firm bed."

"We take care of our friends here."

Niamh nodded, and handed Leo the bottle. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly and sincerely.

Leo didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge she'd said anything at all, but she knew that he had. He knocked a handful of aspirin back, and swallowed them dry.

"The doctors didn't give you anything?" Niamh asked. As banged up as he looked, they should've at least given him a few days worth of good meds. "Those cuts and bruises look painful."

"Life is full of pain," he said with a half-shrug. Then he stood. "I'm going to turn in early. I just want this day to end."

"I'm glad you came," Assumpta said, touching his arm. "I'm glad you felt you could come here."

He looked at it for a moment, and an uneasiness knotting in Niamh stomach. Then he looked into Assumpta's eyes. "I'm glad I did, too. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't come here."

Their gaze lingered, and Niamh cut in with, "Shall I make you a sandwich for later? You might get hungry in the middle of the night. Missing dinner and all. By turning in early. Now."

Leo looked at her with half-lidded annoyance, but said politely enough, "No. I'll be all right."

"Oh, I'll do it," Assumpta said, but when she stood she faltered a little, and Leo caught her and steadied her.

"You okay, there?" he asked, but in the next moment she collapsed, and he scooped her up just as Peter walked in the pub door.

"Assumpta?" he said, panic lacing his voice.

"Call a doctor!" Leo shouted as he scooped Assumpta up in his arms and hurried up the stairs.

Peter pointed a finger at Niamh. "Call Michael Ryan! Tell him to come here now!"

"What about an ambulance?" Niamh asked, but Peter was already halfway up the stairs after them.

Niamh did as she was told.

Peter bolted up the stair, down the corridor, and through the back entry into Assumpta's flat. His heart raced, and his head buzzed with panic as he came to a stumbling halt in the living room. Leo was just settling her on the couch, and he knelt down beside her. She was conscious, smiling weakly at him.

"I'm all right," she told him.

"We'll let the doctor decide that."

"I just got up too fast, is all. I'm good."

"You're heart is racing," he told her, and Peter realized Leo was holding her hand and wrist. "I can feel your pulse."

Rage shot through Peter, and a jealousy so strong it blinded him for a split second. Then he lunged for Leo, knocked him away. "Get off her!"

"Off her?" Leo said, stunned and on his ass. "What the bloody…?"

"Peter, please," Assumpta began, but he shook his head. He wouldn't listen to her protest.

"Are you hurt? Michael is on his way – Niamh is ringing him."

"She just fainted," Leo began, but Peter cut him off with a sharp wave of his finger.

"She's not yours," he said, and his voice wavered with restrained emotion.

Leo, for his part, looked almost shocked at the statement. "I know, mate. She bloody well chose you." He took a step back when Peter didn't back down, and then said to Assumpta, "I'll wait downstairs for the doctor."

It wasn't until the door closed behind Leo that Peter turned back to Assumpta. He knew he couldn't hide the tears in his eyes, but he couldn't not look at her.

"You didn't need to do that," she gently scolded, running fingers through the hair at the side of his head as if to brush it back behind his ear.

"Is it your heart?" he asked, and then made a silent prayer that it wasn't.

"Peter, Leo's not a threat."

"The last time you fainted he was your husband, and Michael said I wasn't to see you, that it wasn't my right."

"Well, it is your right now."

"We're not married yet."

"Soon."

"Not soon enough," he grumbled, and glanced anxiously over his shoulder. "Where the bloody hell is that doctor."

Assumpta smirked. "Language."

"This isn't funny, Assumpta."

"It's a bit funny. Oh, come on, Peter, it's not my heart."

"How do you…you know what it is? Have you done this before? When I was away? Are you sick? It's more than just the flu, isn't it? Oh, God…is it a tumor?" His mother had died from cancer.

"Peter…" She took his hand, and he squeezed tightly. "Peter, I thought to wait until Michael confirms…"

"What? Please, just tell me!"

Slowly she placed his hand on her belly. "Please don't be angry. When you came back so suddenly, and everything was upside down, I forgot to take my medication for a couple of days, and that included birth control. Well, to be honest, I hadn't been that diligent with it since you left. There didn't seem any dire need and…Peter? Peter?"

He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything beyond the beautiful brown of her eyes.

"Are you angry?"

"You're…are you telling me you're…" He stared at his hand, and at her stomach. "Oh…oh, God in heaven…" The room began to dip, and Peter fell back on his bum, his long legs splayed out awkwardly in front of him.

"Peter? Peter, breathe. You're turning blue!"

He gasped, sucked in a lung-full of air, and then looked down at her flat stomach. "You're sure?"

"No. Which is why I thought to talk to Michael before I said anything. But I also didn't want you worrying about my heart or anything else."

"But-but you fainted. Something's wrong."

She studied him for a moment, and her face darkened. "I thought you'd be happier."

"I am! I'm-I'm…scared out of my mind!"

"Peter-"

He dove for her and buried his face in her belly.

With a loving hand, she caressed his head, ran her fingers through his hair. "Peter, it's going to be all right."

That was supposed to be his line. It was his job to take care of her. "I love you," he said.

"I know. I love you, too."

"So, you're not upset? Our child conceived outside the holy bonds, and all that?"

He leaned to her and kissed her deeply. "I have never wanted anything so much in my life," he whispered, breathless. "Our child…" He reached down and spread his hand over her abdomen. "Ours."

A throat cleared, and Peter turned to see Dr. Ryan standing in the doorway. "I heard I had a patient at this address." Leo stood just behind him, but when he met Peter's eyes, he turned and left again.

"Shall I?" Michael asked, pointing to Assumpta, and Peter stood to let the doctor kneel beside her.

"Hello, Dr. Ryan."

"Ms. Fitzgerald," he humored as he pulled out a stethoscope. "I hear you passed out. Have you eaten today?"

"I can't keep anything down."

"Uh-huh. And, how long has that been going on?"

"Early this morning."

"Right," Michael said, running his hands up her neck to feel her throat and glands. "Swallow."

"She's pregnant!" Peter blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer. He managed not to jump up and down as he yelled it, but only just. Michael glanced over his shoulder at him, and then back at Assumpta.

"Are you certain?"

"No."

"But you suspect."

She looked at Peter, and swallowed.

Michael turned back to Peter. "I'm going to examine her now."

"Right."

"I need you to leave the room, Peter."

"Oh. Oh, right." Peter turned, and with one last look at Assumpta, he went down to the bar feeling happier and lighter than he ever had in his life. When Niamh saw him her brows raised, and Peter realized he was smiling. He couldn't help it. It was all he could do not to laugh and skip and sing his joy. Surely this was a sign from God, a signal that all was forgiven; that following his heart had been the right choice. God was happy, and the angels were with him, and life was perfect.

He took a seat next to Leo at the bar, and when he looked to the man at his side and huge fist made contact with his jaw. Peter flew backwards, hit the ground, and rolled on to his side. That, he hadn't been expecting, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up with what had happened. No teeth lost, no blood. No real damage, he decided. He glanced up, and saw Leo standing over him. He didn't look like he was going to attack again, but the locals in the pub didn't seem to agree. Two grabbed Leo's arms and started to haul him back. He didn't fight them.

"No, no," Peter told them, and he waved them away. "It's all right. Let him go."

"I won't have brawling in here," Niamh said in her mommy voice.

"No brawling," Peter agreed.

Leo didn't answer, but he held out a hand to help Peter up – a hand that Peter took.

His jaw ached, his cheek burned where he'd bitten it, and as Peter saw back down on the stool, he realized Leo was also wincing. He looked in pain as he gingerly sat, and then rested on his elbows against the bar. Leo was hurting a lot more than Peter.

"I suppose I deserved that," Peter said. "Sorry about…how I acted upstairs."

"No hard feelings," Leo said, and then he sipping his whiskey.

"No. Of course not."

Peter moved his jaw a little, stretched through the soreness. It would most likely swell. And again, Leo shifted and looked as if he was in considerable pain. He winced as he touched his side.

"You should take something for that."

"What?" Leo said flatly. "Aspirin? Piss off." He took another swallow of his drink, closed his eyes, and exhaled. He looked tired, and maybe a little grey around the edges. Actually, he looked almost as bad as Assumpta. He needed a friend.

"So," Peter said, "Leo. What are you going to do?"

Leo glanced at him from the corner of his blood-shot eye. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm asking. Are you going to walk out of her life forever, or what?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"It's not about what I'd like, it's about what she needs, and what you're going to do about it."

"What I'm going to do about it? She chose you. I'm not her husband anymore."

"But are you her friend?"

Leo glared. "What's it to you?"

"If you're going to be around, we need to come to some sort of understanding."

Leo snorted, sipped again. "And what sort of understanding would that be? That I don't steal your wife? Don't worry, that's your style, not mine."

"We both care for her," Peter said stiffly, "can we at least agree on that? Do what's right by her? Get along, if only for her sake? Look, I'm not asking for us to be friends, or anything. But I know you to be a good man, and a good friend to Assumpta, and I realize now that there are some things that she needs a friend for – a friend that's not me."

Leo chewed on the inside of his cheek, and then swallowed the last of his drink. "What did you do to her?" Leo asked. "What's happened since I left? Why haven't you married her yet?"

"That's none of your business."

"Like hell it's not. I left her in your care-"

"She's not a child," Peter said, "and she's not a possession. I didn't steal her. We fell in love."

"I loved her first!" Leo said, and he slammed his empty glass on the bar.

"Then you're going to leave again? And only come round when you need her? When it's convenient for you?"

Leo shook his head. "Yeah, every time my sister dies, I'll come calling."

"That isn't what I meant."

"It's exactly what you meant!" Leo roared.

"Enough!" Niamh snaped. "Take it outside if you're going to go at each other!"

Both men are chastened, somewhat. Peter didn't want to fight, and he was fairly sure Leo didn't want to move off the stool again. Even small movements, like shoving his glass toward Niamh for a refill seemed to pain him.

"I think not," Niamh said.

"A pint, then," Leo said.

"Assumpta needs you," Peter told him in a low, flat voice. It was difficult to say, and his stomach clenched around a ball of resentment.

"I know," Leo said without looking at him. "And not half as much as I need her."

Dr. Ryan came down the stairs, then and offered Niamh a smile and a wave. "Send something up for Assumpta to eat, will you? Something with some protein in it. And juice."

"She's better, then?" Niamh asked.

"She will be," Michael said. "I gave her an injection. Peter, wait a moment." He waved at Peter to follow him, and he nodded out the pub door. "Walk with me a bit, will you?" Then the doctor pointed at Leo. "Don't you go upstairs just yet."

"No?" Leo asked, pausing as he stood. "Why?"

Michael kindly, gently patted his shoulder. "Sorry, mate. You're not the husband anymore."

Peter followed the doctor out into the cold sunshine, putting his coat as they walked. "How is she?"

"I'm just going to say it," Michael said, "because there's no good way to break this kind of news. Assumpta's not pregnant."

Peter stopped walking, and his stomach felt as if it had fallen out from under him. He thought he hadn't heard correctly, but the moment he looked into Michael's eyes he knew that he had. "God…is she all right?"

"She has a heart condition that's left over from the electrocution. It's not anything to be overly concerned about as long as she takes her medication, but the medication – one of the side effects in women is a failure to ovulate. She can't get pregnant while she's on the medicine, Peter, or at least, it's very unlikely."

"And without the medicine?"

Michael shook his head. "With or without the medicine, her heart can't handle the stress of carrying a baby to term. Most likely the pregnancy would end in miscarriage. And the risks to her would be…significant. If she had been pregnant, Peter, knowing how you would feel about it, I still would've recommended aborting to save Assumpta's life."

"My God…but…is she sick? Why did she faint?"

"Dehydration, low blood sugar, and the flu."

"But…"

"Peter, I'm sorry. She asked me to explain it to you so I could answer any questions-"

"No."

"Peter, you might want to give her some time."

"No!" Peter repeated, and then he sprinted back to the pub, through the bar and up the stairs to Assumpta's flat. She was still on the couch, weeping in Niamh's arms. When she saw him, she tried to pull herself together, but Peter knelt in front of her, and whispered, "It's okay, love. It will all be okay."

He gathered her against him, and her arms went tight around his neck. She relaxed against him and cried. Grief welled in Peter, and tears slipped down his cheeks and into her hair.