Ceilies, nicknames, and the past

[seberia]

The seventh evening found them in a tiny village that was having a ceili at the pub that night and their bed-and-breakfast hosts had insisted they come. Timothy sat on the bed, watching Arleen get ready. It was a very different experience from watching Cynthia get ready. Faster, for one thing.

"I totally know I'm not talking as much time as you're making me think I am taking." She said with a small pout in his direction. Him watching her on the bed made her think she was taking far to long. She had brought heels with her here, but she felt so comfortable at her real height with him that she couldn't bring herself to wear them. She liked how she fit perfectly under his chin. She had her hair down as she always did and a green sweater that hung off her shoulders, a black muscle shirt countering it. She tried to keep her clan crest tattoo covered, but the edges of the sweater kept slipping down to expose it. She sat on his lap to spite him so she could tie her shoes. Her jeans were a bit tighter than normal and black, but they looked fine and would probably just leave some faint red marks once she got them off later.

He smirked at her, wrapping his hands around her waist as she sat on him to get her shoes on. He held on a moment, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, before letting her go. "I didn't mean to make you feel like you had to hurry. I was just thinking about the difference between watching you get ready and watching Cynthia."

"Cause I don't spend 5 hours in front of a mirror trying to perfect make up and hair that I normally have people do for me?" She asked cheekily. She honestly had no idea what the difference between them was, so she looked curious. She did her normal pat check; wallet, blackberry, keys not needed. She looked at him, ready.

"Not usually quite five. Three was the norm. You're also still wearing the same clothes you picked out at the beginning." He stood and opened the door, giving her an "after-you" gesture.

"My ex-brother-in-law had a girlfriend just like that. Oh I hated her so much. You're with a guy, going down to the Chili's or whatever for some food... you're not going to a shoot and you're not there to pick up guys. God." She grumbles, moving past him with a faint smile and waiting for him to join her at her side before going down the stairs.

"Cynthia couldn't be casual, not really. She was nearly always taller than me, she wore heels even at home." He put a hand on the small of her back as they started down the stairs together. "The ceili flyer I saw said it was at the pub."

"I barely like wearing heels in the courtroom, I get home and flop against the door and take them off before I even pick up Trouble half the time. Or I drive barefoot." She said, still getting a little thrill at his hand on her back. Despite being bombarded with various accents by several handsome, charming guys, no one had made her blush like he had. In fact, most the time she either didn't seem to notice it, or she made a face while trying to decode their hard to understand manner of speaking. Something about the way he did it was just perfect. Though one boy had managed to make her flush a little bit and bow her head. But she had just scooted closer to Timothy and that was that.

Timothy ducked his head as they entered the pub, spotting Rory, their B&B owner. He waved and Timothy smiled back, steering through the crowds to the small table in the corner. Two pints of Guinness were already waiting for them.

She glanced at the Guinness but said nothing, smiling and greeting those who greeted her, keeping close to Timothys side, looking around and mentally assessing where all exits were and the level of drunkenness for most people hanging around.

He kept a hand on her waist, talking to Rory about what they'd be doing that night. He looked down at Arleen, laughing, and noticed a certain concentration in her features. He leaned close. "You all right?" he whispered in her ear.

"I check rooms, you've never noticed that before?" She responded, smiling over at him, leaning against his side

"I haven't, actually." He looked around as well, though he had no idea what he was looking for. In the corner, chairs were being set up for a music session.

She shrugged her shoulders weakly. "I look for the trouble makers, look for those who are going to be punching out soon, and I check the doors and windows. It's an Admin-Justice thing. You'll get used to it." She winked at him, smiling. She still had a bit of her sunburn from the games.

He looked thoughtful. "I don't know why I didn't notice. You must be too distracting." He smiled at her, tracing the sunburn along her nose and upper cheeks. The musicians began playing a rousing tune that he recognized, though he didn't know the name.

She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled. She glanced over her shoulder at the musicians. She touched his hip gently, smiling to him faintly, sipping finally at her Guinness. It was Ireland, after all, she might as well have one drink there.

Timothy sat back against the dark wood of the booth, pressing his leg into hers beneath the table as he watched the musicians. They played a few lively songs, then a young teenage boy played a mournful tune on the penny whistle, then another set of reels, then a man took a long pull from his pint and got up to sing.

She noticed that and smirked. Oh, revenge would be sweet and would be hers. She leaned clear over Timothy, placing her palm on the seat between his thighs and said to Rory. "Y'know, Timothy would love to sing. There any chance he could?" She asked, smirking. She was on Timothys right side for once because she figured he would much rather her be there than anyone else.

Timothy started as she leaned over him, then his eyes went wide at her question. "Arleen, there's no need for that, we're guests here, and -" But whatever else he was going to say was drowned by the wave of enthusiasm by Rory and a half-dozen other locals who had overheard her. Timothy found himself cheered up to the microphone, and he shot Arleen a glare in passing. He was a bit red by the time he got up there, feeling self-conscious. Out of a desire to blend in, his words picked up a bit of an accent. "Right. Well...this is a song I learned from my Da, may he rest in peace."

She was laughing the entire time, snickering behind her hand. His accented words brought her a bit of a blush as well, but she was thankfully able to hide it due to the lingering sunburn in her cheeks and by not ducking her head down at all.

There were murmurs from everyone there and a few people crossed themselves at the mention of his departed Da. Timothy took a deep breath, surveying the room, and launched into it. "Areir 's me 'g tearnnamh ar neoin, ar a' dtaobh eile 'en teora seo thios..." The Gaelic flowed easily and his voice was a pleasant baritone, solid, with no wavering on high or low notes. The village was in the Gaeltacht, and he was fairly sure that almost everyone here could understand the words. He wondered distantly if someone would explain them to the non-Gaelic speakers in the audience.

She almost smacked her head into the back of the booth with how sharply she jerked her head up to view him again, having looked away for the shortest of moments. That.... Well, she wasn't expecting that at all. She watched him with wide eyes, her blush just darkening a bit at how he sounded. She couldn't not watch him.

It had been years since he'd sung in front of anyone, but he found himself forgetting they were there as he met Arleen's gaze. He kept singing, remembering every word. He'd learned the sounds of the words before he had learned what they meant, but now that he did know, it seemed the best song to have chosen and he thanked his father for teaching it to him.

She kept her gaze locked with him, smiling to him, the blush going away just a bit, her body relaxing and her smile just growing more. He sure showed her. She would have to try and figure out something else, but she wondered if there was maybe nothing the man couldn't do.

As the song drew to a close, several people in the pub mouthed the words along with him. There was a moment of silence, some people nodding sagely, then applause. As Timothy made his way back to his seat, he received several handshakes and claps on the shoulder. A glass of neat whiskey appeared in front of him as he sat back and he took a sip of it gratefully. "That was unexpected."

She clapped for him and pressed into his side to show her approval and enjoyment. "I need a list of things you can't do, Timothy." She whispered to him, her hand finding it's place on his leg, smiling broadly.

He blushed at that, covering her hand with his. "You asked me to," he said softly. "'S why."

"I was trying to get revenge on you. You're not supposed to be good and show me up when I am getting revenge." She pouted at him, but still marveled at his warmth. Her eyes were sparkling.

He tickled her side lightly. "Have to try again, I suppose. Of course, now I'll be expecting it."

She gave him half a glare. "We'll see about that. You have no idea how sneaky I can be." She said, smirking. She captured his hand with her free one. She had turned her clauddah around to show she was with someone on the plane ride here and she grabbed his hand with her left hand, as she was now on the inside of the booth. "Be nice, Timothy." She told him, trying to throw the mock-stern voice he often used on her.

He opened his eyes wide, trying to look innocent. "I don't know what you mean, Ms. Makem." His fingers tightened around hers and his eyes were laughing.

"That's Dr. Makem to you." She said, smirking at him, her heart feeling light. She rested against him, holding his hand happily.

That threw him for a moment until he remembered she had mentioned receiving her LL.D after her divorce. "Very well, Dr. Makem," he replied politely, smirking a bit at the unfamiliar title.

She laughed at the look on his face. She kissed his shoulder but was pulled away from talking to him by someone complimenting her on her 'husband's singing. She blinked and noticed she was being spoken to. She glanced at him, not sure how to exactly correct that, since others seemed to be agreeing completely.

Timothy glanced over at the word "husband" and realized they were referring to him. His cheeks colored a bit, but it wasn't noticeable in the dim light. There was a flush to his cheeks anyway from the whiskey. He waited for Arleen to correct them, feeling a bit...wistful?

Feeling self conscious, and not even sure how to voice they were wrong she just thanked the person with a smile. She focused on taking a few big swigs of her Guinness and fighting off her blush.

Timothy was aware of a quiet stirring in his chest as she just thanked the woman for her kind words and took a drink. He wasn't really sure how to phrase...anything, so he just shook another man's hand, his hand tightening on hers beneath the table.

She tried to fight away a smile. She knew this man just over a week, there was no logical in any sense reason for her to smile about the thought of him being her husband. Even if she allowed herself to accept the flutter in her chest and pressed a bit closer to his side.

He rested his chin a top her head for a moment, just enjoying the way she fit against his side. "Are you ready to go?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." She said, more than happy to get away from the questions about their marriage and the beer in front of her.

He nodded, moving out of the booth and allowing her to stand before putting a hand on her back in a gesture so familiar by now that he didn't really think about it. They said goodnight to the crowd of locals just settling in for a long night of drinking and music.

She said her goodbyes as well and kept face until they got to the stairs where she covered her face with one hand. "Good lord." She whispered, shaking her head.

Timothy unlocked their door and closed it behind them. "Agreed. Although I...noticed you didn't say anything."

She shrugged. "Eh, it was harmless." she whispered, ignoring the blush in her cheeks as she slipped past him and sat on the bed to untie her shoes.

He kicked off his boots and leaned against the closed door, watching her. After her shoes were off, he pushed off from the wall and sat next to her. "I suppose it doesn't hurt anything to let them think it." He put an arm around her waist and tightened it, drawing her to him.

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand automatically settling over where she knew his scar to be. It was her way to show her want to comfort him, her love of him. No, not her love. Not yet. She allowed her mind to race.

The gentle pressure over his scar, the accepting and automatic touch, made his heart race. He didn't want to pull away from her, he realized, he didn't want to hide it or avoid it, or pretend it wasn't there, and neither did she. He looked down at her for a long moment, then tipped her head up gently and kissed her.

Her other hand gripped onto his left shoulder, kissing him. No matter how many times they kissed, her heart still began to race and flutter.

His hand slid into her hair, deepening the kiss, and the hand around her waist shifted a bit, slipping beneath her shirt and trailing across her skin. He hadn't been keeping track of the number of times they had been together, because he didn't care, but this was the first time he'd felt such a need for her.

She made a faint noise, parting her lips a bit, pushing into the kiss. She wormed her way into his shirt as well, placing her hand in the exact same spot, though her fingers now traced the scar tissue. She gripped at his shoulder a little tighter.

His breath hitched as he felt her fingers trace his scar and abruptly he lay back on the bed, pulling her on top of him, kissing her desperately, pushing the sweater off her shoulders.

She squeaked at the sudden motion, but laughed against his lips. Her body found her place, their hips lining up perfectly, her thighs pressing into the bones of his hips, kissing him just as desperately. She broke the kiss just long enough to slip out of her sweater. She kissed him deeply, biting his lip, before pulling off, snagging his glasses and gripping them between her teeth by the end of an ear piece while she ran her hands under his shirt and up, pulling him free of his shirt. One had dropped his shirt to the floor as she leaned forward, reaching out to set his glasses on the bedside table, her collarbone pressing into his nose a bit due to the distance she had to stretch. She figured he didn't mind much>

He ran his hands down her back, then his eyes widened a bit as she slipped his glasses off and held them casually in her teeth as she pulled off his shirt. He had no idea why, but the gesture seemed so intimate. He lay still as she set his glasses down safely, then caught her lips in another kiss as she moved back, pressing up against her. Her skin was hot against his and he undid her bra, taking a few seconds to work it out, but he pressed his hand to the bare skin of her back as he slipped it off her shoulders.

Once free of her bra she pressed her chest into his again. She smiled down into the kiss, her eyes dancing, happiness just pulsing off her to the beat of her heart. She pressed her hips down into his, both of her hands running up and down his sides.

He was eager, his hands moving over her back to the waistband of her jeans. He broke the kiss to whisper to her, "You looked amazing tonight. I was tempted to avoid going at all." The way he slipped a finger below the waistband indicated that he hoped his patience would be rewarded now.

She laughed, smiling down at him, her eyes soft and warm. She kissed the tip of his nose. She ran her hands down to the hem of his jeans and watched him as she undid them, smirking a little. "That's the second time you've referred to me as amazing." She commented, not sure why he did. He had married a model for God sakes, she wasn't anything compared to them, she was sure

"Only the second? I've been calling you amazing in my mind all the time." He shifted a bit beneath her, hands copying her movements as he slid her zipper down. He brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before drawing her down into another kiss. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of kissing her, every time he felt her lips his pulse jumped.

She rolled her eyes at his words with a broad smile on her face, and kissed him softly. She tried to show how much she cared for him with her kisses, always trying to make them warm and loving. She leaned into the kiss more as she managed to slip her hand past the barriers and to him, running her fingers along him, gripping him.

He tipped his head back a bit, moaning as he felt her fingers on him. "God, Arleen, you are amazing," he whispered, his voice a bit ragged with need. He moved his hips impatiently, sliding her jeans over her hips. He wanted her, more than he'd expected wanting anyone.

She laughed again, kissing his adams apple as he tipped his head back. She smirked, taking note of his impatience and teasing him, ghosting along his tip before gripping and pumping him, smirking down at him. She kept herself firmly against him, making it impossible for him to get her jeans off all the way or to tease her. Sweet, sweet revenge.

He groaned, half in pleasure and half in frustration, as he realized she wasn't going to budge. "Cruel...woman," he got out, breathing faster as she teased him, then gasping and closing his eyes, tipping his head back onto the bed and moving, twitching beneath her when she wrapped her hand around him again.

"I think you've called me that more than you have called me amazing." She laughed. She tried to not make her motions obvious as she tried to ease herself out of her jeans. She managed fairly smoothly, it would feel like she was just trying to find a comfy place to sit on his knees. She gripped at him a little tighter if he tried to look up to see what she was doing. She pulled her hand from him and drug his pants down off his hips just enough and she bent, taking him in her mouth as she kept tugging at his pants to remove them.

He kept his head resting on the bed, hands lifting off as she shifted on his legs. He was entirely unprepared as her mouth slid over him and he gasped sharply, moaning, one hand tightening on the sheets even as he lifted his hips a bit to help her get his jeans off. "God, Arleen," he managed, breathing in sharply.

She groaned at him in response to her name and once she finally had his jeans off she released him from her mouth and reshifted, kissing his jaw, grabbing at him and lining him up, but not connecting them no matter how much her body screamed at her to. She was teasing him still and she smirked against his neck.

He pressed up at her and his eyes narrowed a bit as she moved away, still teasing him. He pinned her with a steady, dark gaze before suddenly rolling them over and trapping her hands against the bed, above her head. "Two...can play at that," he whispered in her ear, pressing against her but not entering her, and licked the area beneath her ear slowly.

She gasped and squeaked, not expecting his sudden pin. She laughed a little but shivered at his voice, his contact. She hooked one leg around his hips.

Shifting carefully, he positioned himself and slid into her very slowly, in one stroke. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring how she felt, and he didn't start moving, not yet.

She gasped softly and whispered, "God, Tim..." Not noticing her shortening of his name in the least, her hands straining to grip at him.

His eyes snapped open, the nickname he hadn't heard in years sending a wholly-unexpected trail of heat down his spine. "Arleen," he whispered back, starting to move within her, feeling her pressing against his hands as he held her down. He kissed down the side of her neck, his teeth scraping over the vein very lightly. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed the way she felt as she struggled against his grip and wasn't ready to let her go.

She shuddered and blushed as she often did when he said her name. She gasped and arched and moaned at his thrusts and his teeth against her neck.

He smiled as she strained against him and released her wrists, his hands trailing down her arms, one hand sliding into her hair and the other continuing down her side to grip at her hip. He could feel himself getting close already and forced himself to hold back, slow down a bit.

She wrapped are arms tightly around him, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other going into his hair, her breathing heavy, her moans sharp, again trying to muffle them with his shoulder>

He moved with her, his rhythm slow and steady, his breathing ragged now, leaning into her hand in his hair. He kissed and licked at her neck, her shoulder, biting at it, pressing sharply into her. He moaned her name into her ear again, feeling his mind start to crumble at the edges.

Him pressing in as he had and saying her name had pushed her over the edge that she didn't even notice she was so close to, hard. She shuddered and gripped at him, crying out into his neck, clinging to him, shaking, pushing up into him to take him in completely.

As she cried out against his skin he moved inside her, thrusting hard, taking her as deeply as he could, and moaned loudly as he reached the edge, closing his eyes, his hand tightening in her hair.

She shook a few more times, gasping or moaning a little. Aftershocks. She nipped at his neck a little and relaxed against the mattress, trying to steady her breathing and her heart.

He released her hair and braced himself with that hand, tipping his head back as he felt her lips on his neck. The cool air of the room was cold on his sweaty back. He laid his head on her shoulder again, relaxing a moment and closing his eyes. "You called me Tim," he murmured against her neck.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." she said, a blush coloring her cheeks, her hand still tangled in his hair, her other tracing the now familiar lines in his back.

"I like it." He shifted, kissing her jaw lightly. "When you say it. I like it."

"You're sure?" She asked, shivering softly at his lips on her jaw. She relaxed against him. She loved this after thing they did. Him laying on her, them still connected, talking about this and that

Timothy pushed himself up a bit to look at her. He was half-smiling as he kissed her cheek. "I'm very sure."

She smiled warmly up at him, relaxing even more so, her eyes heavy lidded, playing with his hair. It was getting late, but she wasn't tired, not really. Not with him there.

He didn't want to move, he felt so comfortable. This always happened, and neither of them minded. He relaxed against her, saying nothing, just enjoying the feel of her skin.

"I might be able to get used to this." she whispered in his ear, closing her eyes, her hands stilling on his body.

"Is that good?" he murmured, a thrill running over his stomach at her words. He shifted to lean up on one arm and look at her again."

"I'd like to think so." She whispered, opening her eyes to lock them with his sharp, intense blue ones

"Good." He smiled quietly and leaned down to kiss her very lightly, his fingers trailing along her collarbone.

She pulled him down into the bed again. Tonight was their second to last night here, and one of her favorite parts of this vacation was falling asleep against him and waking up in his arms. She knew unless he got on Troubles good side there was no way this would happen at her place, and she couldn't ignore Trouble and just spend all her nights at his place. So she relaxed into what she hoped wasn't her last night like this for a while, tucked against him, her eyes closing instantly at the sound of his heartbeat.

They slept easily together, and soundly. These last few nights had been some of the best sleep Timothy had gotten in years. The exertion of hiking and traveling might have something to do with that, but he was fairly sure that wasn't all. The next morning they woke and lay together in bed for a half-hour, talking quietly before hunger drove them downstairs for their promised breakfast. Rory's wife made and sold bread and baked goods as a side-business and in addition to the full Irish breakfast they'd picked, there were powdered-sugar-coated pastries. They had time before they needed to check out, and both opted to go back upstairs and lie on the bed to digest instead of taking a walk.

"Thank you for this, Timothy." she whispered, tucking herself against him, content and happy. She needed to get away, have a vacation. She knew she'd have to get him back for this. Somehow. She would dig at him and figure out some place he really wanted to go and experience. She realized she utterly sucked at planning trips, and beyond her knowing she would be dragging him down to Disneyland probably every weekend, she didn't know what to do for him. "I have no clue how to repay you for this." She whispered, looking up at him.

He stroked her hair lightly. "You repaid me by saying you'd come along," he said softly. "You don't owe me anything."

"Yeah, uh-huh." She said, snickering. She enjoyed his company a while longer before slowly pulling herself up to make sure she had everything and get everything packed. And to brush her teeth. She set their bags down by the door and rested her hips against the wall to put her shoes on again and retie them.

Timothy was very organized when he traveled. He never spread his things around a room but kept them all in or near his bag, so he was nearly packed already. He brushed his teeth and finished packing before going to the window and looking out at the view of the harbor. He wondered if the intensity of his feelings for her would remain as strong once they got back to their lives.

She snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso, setting her head on his shoulder blade, closing her eyes

He smiled, leaning back into her, resting his hands atop hers. Her warmth against his back made him think of lazy Sunday afternoons. He was looking forward to having those with her. After a few minutes he sighed, his shoulders falling a bit. "We should go."

She sighed into the fabric of his shirt, ghosted her hand over his scar, kissed his spine, and backed away.

They checked out and Rory's wife complimented Timothy on his singing from the previous night, prompting a quiet blush, but he accepted the compliment gracefully. With a last scritch of the resident sheepdog, they packed up the car and Timothy settled into the passenger seat, starting to look for music. "What do you like to drive to?"

"Oh, God.. I dunno. Just don't put on any of the soundtrack music. It'll make me speed and here is not the place to do that." She warned, adjusting everything to her preferences and starting off once they were all ready. It was weird driving the opposite direction, but after a few moments it was easy to fall into the hang of it.

"The turns are the hardest part, but there won't be any of those for awhile." They were driving down to Galway and it would only be two hours, if that. He smiled and pulled up the music they'd listened to on the way to the games. The Gaelic words fit perfectly with the landscape. "We'll start with this."

She snickered to herself, her ipod kept picking Celtic music and she just had to laugh a little at some of the songs. She was a seasoned driver, the turns barely seemed to bother her. Within just shy of 2 hours they were in Galway and she was happy to get out of the car.

He gave her directions to a small hotel on Quay St with a private lot behind it. He was grinning when they got out. "I've always wanted to visit Galway again. My family came here once, on a vacation." He got out and got their bags, carrying both easily.

She made a face at him carrying her bag, but said nothing. She kept pace with him, watching him as he spoke with a smile on her face.

He checked them in quickly and nearly ran up the stairs, setting their bags down and going to the window. The hotel he'd found had a view of one of the most famous of Galway's pubs, the Quays, which had Irish music sessions every night. He was sorry they only had one day to spend in Galway, but he reasoned that was just a reason for them to come back.

She laughed at his quick pace, just lazily walking after him. She slipped into the room after him, closing the door behind herself with a faint click and she moved forward, walking up to the right side of his body, her left hand settling on his hip, her fingertips on his scar, her other hand on the sill of the window, looking down, smiling happily.

He put an arm around her, fingers gently stroking her side, and marveled again, as he always did, how perfectly she fit against him. "All I want to do today is walk," he said. "This is a great city for walking. We'll find somewhere for lunch."

"Walking works. We have been kinda.. laying around a lot this week." She said with a not well hidden smirk. She pressed her temple into his shoulder, feeling happy.

He smirked, sliding his hand down to her hip. "I noticed that too. Must be these beds. They're just so comfortable." He shifted, taking a step behind her and sliding his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her hair with a quiet sigh of contentment.

"Like you touch the bed. You mean I am just so comfortable." She said, tutting him as she leaned into his chest.

He laughed at that, squeezing her. "You are so comfortable," he murmured in her ear. "Everything about you is comfortable." And he did mean everything.

She shivered at his voice in her ear. "Well.. Shall we?" She asked, wanting to pay attention to Ireland on their last day, instead of the inside of a hotel room and a bed. She was pretty sure once they were back home they would have a whole lot of time to spend together in beds. Well, she did want to pay attention to the bed, but they really should find lunch. She didn't move, however.

It was tempting to deliberately misunderstand her meaning, but he resisted the temptation. The pull of Galway was too strong, and he had tonight to look forward to. And with luck, many nights in the future. "Let's." He kissed her temple lightly, releasing her waist and finding one of her hands. He'd never been much for hand-holding even when he'd been younger, but it seemed natural to hold hers.

She laughed, letting herself get pulled out of the room and down to the streets of Galway. She wasn't sure what it was about them, but they were constantly mistaken for a married couple. At least 3 times before they found a place for lunch. She blushed every time time it happened.

An old man on a bench had pointed them in the direction of a tiny fish and chip shop, full of locals, and they each got a newspaper-wrapped bundle of fried fish and chips. The man at the counter had thrown in an extra piece of fish for each of them, saying their smiles brightened his day. Timothy had blushed a bit at that, and more when he'd handed him the wrapped packages, one for him and one for his "lovely wife". They walked down to the quays and found a place to sit, watching the ferries.

"We should just get you a ring. I'm amazed no one has asked about your lack of one yet." She said with her cheek full of fish. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, half hoping to make him choke or blush.

He did blush, his eyes widening a bit, and took a long drink to cover it. "We're Americans, we have all kinds of strange customs," he replied finally. He didn't make a comment about finding him a ring, and hoped his suddenly rapid heartbeat wasn't too noticeable. He hadn't really intended to wear a ring again, and for four years (five years, really) he hadn't been tempted.

"Uh-huh." She just said, smirking to herself, looking all around as she ate, settled against his shoulder. She had been all smiles this whole trip, loving everything about it.

He shook his head a bit and put an arm lightly around her shoulders, after wiping the grease off. "I think we might need ice cream after this. What do you think, Dr. Makem?" He loved teasing her by calling her that. The fact that it was true just made it better.

She had said the whole Dr. Makem thing to try and throw him off, not to give him ammo. And she groaned every time he used it. "I'd have to agree with you, Dr. Murphy." She said, smiling up at him, resting against him. She didn't move for a while and she asked, "Why did you really invite me here? I don't think you really had a vacation in mind.."

His heart skipped a beat as she asked him that simple question. He watched the boats in silence for awhile, turning over the answers in his mind. "You'd never been here, but you love it so much. I'd been planning a trip like this, to see more of Ireland, but after I met you...I wanted to see it with you."

She flushed and she was happy he couldn't see her face. She tucked her face against his neck. She took deep breath of him and said, "Thank you, so much. I really do not know how to repay you for this. I don't think I'll make this up to you." She smiled up at him. She stood once her blush had gone down and extended her hands to him to pull him to his feet.

He stood easily, lacing his fingers with hers. "I feel like you've already repaid me, by coming." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I'll never forget this trip, Arleen. You've made it so much better than it could ever have been."

She melted against him, he always knew what to say to make her go weak in the knees. She was thankful he had just a good hold of her. She bit her lip a little. She felt like she had known him months... years. She was scared. Scared this was going too fast, scared they would both end up hurt. She resisting the urge to pull away. No. This was a good thing>

He closed his eyes, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms again for a few minutes. He wondered how it was possible for her to have been in his arms for years when he known her less than two weeks. Eventually he leaned back and looked down at her. "Ice cream?" he asked hopefully, his eyes dancing.

She smiled up at him, laughing just a little. "Yes." She said, pulling away from him completely and doing the 'after you' gesture.

He caught her hand and started walking again, smiling widely. He couldn't not touch her. They found a small corner store quickly and each got a cone, the better to eat without having to let go. They walked all over Galway's city center. It wasn't as large a city as Dublin, and it had none of the hectic pace that he'd always found so tiring. The afternoon passed by quickly and soon they started to get hungry again. Timothy turned their steps back toward the hotel. "I'd like to take you out for dinner tonight. There's a seafood restaurant that's supposed to be amazing."

She laughed. "Fine. I'll give you that." She had been just as adamant about paying her own way for crap. And she was still trying to figure out how in the hell she was going to get him back for the hotel rooms and the plane tickets. She'd worry about that later. But she figured she would let him pay for their last meal there. She followed him back to the hotel.

They walked to the restaurant after changing, as it wasn't far and the evening was beautiful. It was a Thursday and not too busy, but there was still a short wait. They sat at the bar with a view into the dining room. Timothy was telling Arleen a childhood story about Chicago when a brisk Irish voice behind him snapped out, "Jesus, Mary 'n Joseph! Timothy Patrick Murphy, what in God's name are you doing in Galway? And without callin' your poor mother?"

She almost jumped out of her skin, gripping at his arm tightly, sinking her nails into the fabric of his shirt as she looked over their shoulders at the voice, all the color draining from her face save for the faint pink of her sunburn and her freckles. She was on his right side again. She had a habit of covering his right side from other people protectively.

Timothy stilled, his eyes widening and face growing blank at the voice. He turned in his seat. "I might ask you the same question, Mam. Aren't you usually in Dublin? You hate the wes - Cynthia." His voice was stunned.

A beautiful Indian woman stood next to Niamh Murphy, smiling kindly at him. She'd always had a kind smile. "Hello, Timothy. Niamh is only here because of me. Christian had a photo shoot here and she came over to have dinner and take me out while he was busy."

"Timothy, pinch me. This is some horrible nightmare... Wake me up." She whispered against his shoulder. She could die. She could die right there.

"That was very kind of her, yes." He was trying desperately to clear his head. He was so very thrown by running into his mother like this, and his ex-wife at the same time was just cruel.

Niamh noticed the young woman behind him, watching them with a horrified expression. "And who is this? Have you gone and found yourself someone at last?"

Cynthia switched her smile to Arleen. "Don't mind her. I'm Cynthia." She extended a hand.

The extended hand put her into some form of autopilot. "A. C. Makem." She introduced herself without thinking, shaking hands with Cynthia.

"And what is it you do, Ms. Makem?" asked Niamh, bristling at this strange woman with her son. Cynthia rolled her eyes a bit, smiling apologetically as she shook hands.

Timothy closed his eyes briefly. "I'm sure you and Cynthia were having a lovely evening before we stopped along, I'd hate to interrupt that."

"We were finished," she answered briskly before turning her attention back to the new woman.

She cleared her throat, trying to gain her normal, dominate, courthouse type of personality. It failed. "I'm a criminal defense attorney." She said once she managed to find her voice. Timothys mother intimated her more than any client of hers ever had.

"A lawyer? Timothy Patrick, you've gone from models to lawyers?" Niamh shook her head sadly. Timothy set his jaw and opened his mouth to retort, but before he could Cynthia stepped in smoothly.

"Timothy hasn't 'gone from' anything to anything. And we should be going, we have the art opening, Niamh. Paiseley would be heartbroken if we missed it." She smiled at Arleen. "It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Makem. I hope to see you again soon, Timothy. Lunch next week?" She took Niamh's arm and guided her away, moving gracefully on her three-inch heels, willowy and beautiful in a long cream-colored sweater and knee-length chocolate brown pencil skirt.

She unconsciously touched at his hip, looking up at him. "Can I faint yet?" She asked softly, her voice squeaking a bit.

"Me first," he replied, his eyes wide. His hand covered hers. "Jesus. I didn't...expect that." He felt rattled, almost paranoid now. He hated seeing his mother without having time to prepare himself for it first. And Cynthia too...although she'd been perfectly lovely and he could have kissed her for taking charge of his mother like that, it was still indescribably awkward to run into her.

His mother had touched on something that had bothered her ever since she found out his ex-wife was a model. She was just a lawyer. She was the type of woman who would leave the house in sweats and her hair tussled all over the place without a trace of makeup and go down and go shopping. She was downright frumpy sometimes. And seeing Cynthia made it all the harder to believe that he was too terribly interested in her physically. She wanted to fiddle, but one of her hands was pinned to his hip so she just bit her lip.

He saw her frown. "Are you all right? I'm sorry, I didn't expect them to be here." He assumed she was just as rattled as he was at the sudden appearance of his mother and his ex-wife. He stroked her hand gently. "I'll have to thank Cynthia later for handling that so well. She always did keep her head."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just not... I wanted to die or crawl under something or disappear. Something. Anything." She was still looking at the door as if expecting them to return for God knows what. His touch on her hand did help to calm her down.

He sighed. "I know. It would have been nice for you to meet my mother after some warning. Even I need some warning before meeting with her." He brushed her hair back from her face. "They're gone now, though, thank God. To some godawful art opening, so I know they'll be there until the small hours of the morning. We won't run into them again." He smiled, trying to reassure her.

She smiled to him and decided to just enjoy the evening. She was sure she could manage that. With him, enjoyment was never hard to manage. She closed her eyes as she rubbed his scar carefully for a few moments.

He stilled as her fingers found his scar again, wondering how it was that something he'd protected so fiercely for fifteen years could be so comfortable in less than a week. Their name was called shortly afterward and they went to dinner, talking and laughing about the previous week, recounting amusing events and people they'd met. Timothy called her "Dr. Makem" a few more times during the evening, grinning every time she blushed. After dinner, they started walking back to the hotel. They'd lingered after dinner and it was nearly 11 as they walked, the night air cool and smelling, not unpleasantly, of the sea.

Tomorrow would be a fun hell, with how early they would need to get up to manage everything on time. She would put more stock into worrying about it if she wasn't back thinking self-conscious thoughts. Lawyer. That was all she really was. Nothing special beyond a degree. She got a serious look on her face anytime they weren't actively talking or joking.

He spotted the moon between two buildings and looked down at her, opening his mouth to point it out, when he noticed how serious she looked. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

She glanced up at him. "Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm just trying to figure exactly how to manage tomorrow. Since neither of us sleep on planes. I think we'll either end up passing out on each other or having to find some obscure way to keep each other awake." She covered.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," he replied with a small smirk. "It's a long flight, I'm sure we'll probably end up falling asleep at some point." He tilted his head a bit. "Are you really that worried about tomorrow, Arleen?" She'd been so laid-back about all their travel arrangements so far, it seemed out of character for her to worry about this last leg of the trip.

"I think I'm still shooken up about running into your mom and Cynthia." She said, failing at trying to cover her ass here.

He released her hand to wrap an arm around his waist. "It's all right, we won't see them again," he said, trying to reassure her. He'd given up worrying about it. It wasn't how he'd wanted his mother to meet her, but it had happened and there was nothing he could do about it now.

"Not tonight, no. But I highly doubt that will be the last we see of either of them." She said, her shoulders slumping a bit as he held her. She was so scared that she was letting her self fall into this with a man who really had no interest in her.

"Mam never comes to the States, but we may run into Cynthia a few times," he admitted before noticing her expression and how she slumped against him. "Arleen, what is it? That can't be all that's on your mind."

She sighed at his prodding. "I don't understand your interest in me when you were married to a model." She grumbled at him, looking away.

He was speechless for a moment. "That's what you're...Arleen, I haven't thought about Cynthia like that in years."

"Timothy, I'm a lawyer for Pete's sake. I don't fix up nice or anything like that. I'm a big step down from her." She said, still not looking at him.

"You're not a step down from anyone. Don't ever think that. Jesus, Arleen, I've never felt this way about anyone else, Cynthia included." She still wasn't looking at him and he took her chin gently but firmly, turning her face back to him. "You're amazing, like no one else I've ever met, and I'll keep saying it until you believe it."

She tensed up a little when he grabbed her jaw, cringing as if expecting a blow. She barely heard his words and she tried to pass off the flinch by offering him a small, nervous smile, trying to ignore her hands shaking.

His eyes widened at her reaction and he released her immediately, taking a half-step back. He'd seen that flinch many times, working in an ER and treating women who had 'fallen down the stairs'. "Someone's hit you," he said softly. It wasn't a question. He took her hands gently, feeling her shaking.

"Long time ago." She said, her voice a teeny bit shaky. She gripped at his hands, looking down again, her breathing deep and sped up a bit, her pulse racing.

He closed his eyes, fighting down anger that anyone would touch her like that. "Time doesn't heal wounds, Arleen," he whispered, repeating her words to him on the very first night they'd met. Hesitantly, he drew her into a loose embrace. He wanted to make this better, wanted to protect her and make her forget, but he was afraid of hurting her now, making her afraid of him.

His protective embrace dashed away the thoughts of her being anything less than his ex-wife. Her stomach was clenched up and she was clinging to him, her face pressed into his chest, shaking a little.

He tightened his arms around her as she pressed against him, one hand against the small of her back, over her tattoo, the other hand stroking her hair lightly. "Arleen, I had no idea," he whispered, "I'm so sorry..."

"You had no way of knowing." She said, calming more and more with his contact, her voice losing his tremor and her hands steadying. She took a deep breath and let it out slow. "My husband. He hit me a few times." She said, though one doesn't learn that type of flinch from 'a few times'.

He gritted his teeth, knowing perfectly well that she wouldn't have reacted so strongly if it had really only been "a few" times, but he didn't press it, just held her close, stroking her hair. He was very happy that he would most likely never meet this man, because if Timothy had a minute alone with him, he would be in serious trouble.

She remained against him for a long time just breathing, steadying herself, calming down. She finally pulled away, relaxed. "We should really get some sleep, wouldn't you say?"

He searched her face, trying to reassure himself that she was all right, before nodding. "We should. Tomorrow will be a long day." His fingers caressed the small of her back as they started walking again.

She felt a little faint, her stomach clenching. She rested her head against his shoulder, hoping that sleeping would cure her of the feeling she was going to be sick. Once back in the hotel room she stripped all the way down and laid down in bed, curled up a little. She slept peacefully, though. And she was up right when she was supposed to. However, she did manage to sleep on the flight a bit.

They got back to her place and she picked up Trouble who greeted her at the door like he always did. She removed her wallet and Blackberry and set them with her keys on the coffee table, setting Trouble down after a lot of kisses. She told him she'd be out in a few minutes.

She went back to her room and gasped softly and dropped her bag on the floor. There was Chris, drunker than hell, sitting on the edge of the bed. She tried to back up, leave the room, but he was fast and he had a hold of her wrist quick, pressing her against a wall, growling at her. She whined faintly in pain and he gripped her tightly by the jaw. She flinched, her heartrate spiking up.

"Stop your whining. Why are you cheating on me, Cath?" He asked, gripping her tighter. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Chris.. We're divored... we've been divored for years..." He let go of her jaw and backhanded her pretty hard, making her lean more into the wall she was against. "Don't tell me lies!" He snarled.

Timothy was sitting on the couch, watching as Trouble sniffed his jeans, but not reaching for him. He knew Trouble wanted to make sure he was kosher. Then he heard a voice from the bedroom and frowned, looking that way. Was someone else in the house? He stood and started that way, staying quiet, listening.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a slap and his eyes widened, anger building, and his footsteps quickened, though he was still able to stay quiet. There was a tall man, wavering slightly, pinning Arleen against the wall and Timothy went cold. "Take your hands off her right now," he said in a commanding, assertive tone.

Her eyes widened at the sound of Timothys voice and she went stiff, staring up at Chris. Chris went to round on Timothy and in a spark of courage Arleen grabbed at his arm, her nails going into his skin a bit, begging for him to not hurt him.

He twisted himself, landing a good punch right to her jaw. She let go of him instantly sliding down the wall and clutching at her jaw with shaking hands, curling up, looking up at the two men as Chris rounded on Timothy, his eyes narrowed. "What it matter to you?" He asked, his hands clenched into fists, glaring down at the older man, his teeth bared.

Without hesitating, Timothy strode forward and grabbed the younger man's shirt, pulling him away from her and throwing him against the bed, moving between him and Arleen. "Don't touch her again," he replied coldly. His head was lowered and he was watching the man carefully, ready to keep him away from Arleen.

"Tim.. I... Don..." She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Be careful..." She cautioned. Chris, being as drunk as he was, did not keep his feet. He got back to his feet, snarling angrily at the older man. He flung himself at the doctor, letting out a war cry.

Timothy had dealt with people at the hospital who looked like this and he remembered a few tricks. Eyes narrowed, he sidestepped Chris's headlong rush, grabbing his arm and directing him into the wall with a crunch.

He snarled, grabbing at Tim's shirt with his right hand, hard, and throwing his left arm in a hook at his lower ribcage, utterly unaware of the scar hiding under Timothys clothing.

Not expecting such a direct attack, Timothy wasn't guarding his side at all and he let out a cry of pain as Chris's fist connected with his scar, stumbling back and hitting the wall. He doubled over, clutching at his side, panting.

She looked up sharply at the cry of pain and being slightly behind Chris, well, he never saw it coming. She was silent in her attack, letting out a faint grunt as she connected with him. She had managed to launch herself from her crouched position against the wall all the way up to mid ribcage. He smashed into the ground with her weight, hard and he let out a gasp in pain.

She only got in a few good hits before he gripped her wrist in an extremely tight grip, making her bones strain under the pressure. He was under her, her straddling his chest. She let out a sharp cry of pain and the next thing anyone knew Trouble was bounding into the room, 15 lbs of fury pouncing onto Chris' face. He threw Arleen to one side while trying desperately to get away from the cat at his face. Troubles nails had needed a trim and more than once they got stuck in his skin. He was hissing and spitting, his fur floofed out.

Wincing in pain, Timothy looked up as he heard the loud thud and his eyes widened as he saw Arleen tackle Chris to the floor. As he grabbed her wrist, he started forward but stopped as Trouble took care of it for him. He went to Arleen as Chris threw her aside, putting a hand on her shoulder to pull her back from him. The pain had subsided and he was able to stand up straight again. While Chris tried to escape Trouble's attack, Timothy rolled him over and planted a knee in the small of his back, grabbing a wrist and pulling it up between his shoulderblades in a move he'd often used on patients who needed to be restrained. He pulled perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

Trouble, sensing that Timothy had control of the situation, moved off, licking the blood off his nails and giving Tim a look of praise. Arleen was shaking, trying to steady her breathing. God she had tackled her ex-husband. God her ex-husband was in her house! Her jaw was throbbing as her wrist burned and her cheek stung. Chris wasn't putting up a fight but Arleen still handed Timothy a belt, her hands shaking, her eyes wide, babying her left arm.

Timothy shook his head at the belt, tugging his arm higher. In a cold, emotionless voice that left absolutely no room for argument, he spoke quietly. "When I let you up, you are going to leave this house, without another word, and you will never come back here. Do you understand? Say yes."

It looked like he was going to argue, but he gave in, nodding faintly. "Yea, yeah..." he groaned, his arm smarting. Arleen held the belt close to her like a security blanket of sorts.

He'd never felt such cold rage and had to restrain himself, with great effort. He knew exactly how close he was to popping Chris's elbow and he knew it could take a lot more pressure, but he also knew that this hurt, a lot, and he was a little afraid of how okay he was with that. Giving Chris's arm another sharp tug, he released him and stood, arms folded, standing between him and Arleen. "Out. Now."

He stood slowly, touching the cuts on his face with shaking hands. Arleen held her breath as he left the room, and she continued to hold her breath until she heard the click of her front door and she dropped the belt, her hands shakily covering her face, her shoulders hunching around her as if to protect herself, her knees feeling weak.

Timothy released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and turned to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight. "Arleen..." he whispered. "Jesus, when I saw him...are you all right?"

As soon as he was holding her she started sobbing, scared to hell and back again, clinging to him, her face pressed into his chest.

He closed his eyes and held her tight, cursing that man in the finest Irish tradition, though he kept it all inside. He stroked her hair. "Shh...he's gone. He'll never be back. I'll never let him touch you again, Arleen, I'll never let anyone..."

She calmed herself after several moments and carefully put her hand over his scar, asking, "You okay?" Her voice shook as did her hands, but she was no longer sobbing about what had happened.

He nodded. "I'm fine. It was...just unexpected." It had hurt like a bitch, and it was still sore, but he was more concerned about her. He touched her face gently, tipping it to the side to look at her jaw. "We need to get ice on that. And I need to look at your arm," he said in a businesslike tone.

She nodded shakily, barely keeping her feet as she moved for her living room. She had to lean on the wall a few times, breathing deep and telling herself he wasn't there. She finally flopped onto her couch, shaking still, her hands fumbling pathetically over the laces of her shoes as she tried vainly to get them off. Trouble jumped up next to her and settled against her. She finally got her shoes off and she curled up around her cat

He followed her with a hand on her back, supporting her, not hurrying her but just being there to reassure her. Once she sat on the couch he moved into the kitchen, making up a bag of ice quickly, and was back out just as she finished removing her shoes. He went down on one knee and pressed the ice gently to her face. "Twenty minutes," he directed before taking her arm gingerly. There were bruises already forming but he was more concerned with whether or not there had been a break.

No breaks in her arm, she was lucky, but it would hurt like hell the next while. She hissed in pain at the ice on her jaw. Trouble bent his head forward to sniff at Timothys hand. He glanced at the doctor and settled back in again. Timothy was no longer a threat. He was an ally. Arleen whispered a few apologies to him

"It's not your fault," he said in response to her words, releasing her arm and taking her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and meeting her eyes. "It isn't. Your fault." He kissed the back of her hand lightly. "It's all right, Arleen. You're fine. We're both fine."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and nodded. "Please don't leave me tonight?" She whispered, not wanting to be alone.

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. "Of course not. I'll stay as long as you want me to."

"You sure?" She asked softly, kissing him awkwardly, the icepack on her jaw a bit cumbersome. "I don't want to inconvenience you, Tim.."

He ran his fingers gently along her cheek. "I don't think you could possibly inconvenience me, Arleen," he whispered. "I wasn't looking forward to going back to my apartment tonight."

She laughed gently, feeling more comfortable and sitting up. She keeps the ice against her cheek, watching him> You need anything from your apartment?

He shook his head. "I have everything I need right here." He sat back, still on one knee, holding her hand. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her body finally relaxing and calm