Awakenings

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

The words came after a long silence, as if he’d weighed and measured them more than once before he spoke. He didn’t look at her, just stared off into nothing, almost like he’d been sucked back into a time and place that was very long ago and very far away.

“You saw how things went with Cíar, with his family and the people who loved him. They became targets for everyone coming against the Hunt because Brighíd wanted him back and I don’t blame her for that in the least. He was her brother and he was ripped away from her by their enemies and that wasn’t something I would have stood for, either.

“Neither would you, or Phelan, or Teague, and I knew that because of how you reacted to what happened to Cíar. I couldn’t risk that all over again, Neve. I couldn’t endanger you like that, and if you’d had any inkling I was alive, that’s the way it would have been. You never would have stopped trying to find me and free me—and the forces that had landed me with the Hunt never would have stopped trying to stop you, to eliminate you as a threat. Never mind all of the enemies I made leading the Hunt.”

“Like Orcus,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “Like Orcus.”

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

“Why did you hide?” Neve asked, her voice a whisper, a tightness starting to choke off her voice. It wasn’t the first time the question had risen to her lips, but somehow it ached more this time. “You hid from us. From the people who loved you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t what I need,” Neve said. “I need you to tell me, Seamus. That’s what I need. I need to know. I need to know why.” I need to know it’s not going to happen again—that we’re not going to lose you again. That you’re not going to just vanish again. I need to know that.

We all need to know that.

He was silent for a long time, staring off into space. His lips thinned into a line, nearly vanishing. Neve bit her lip, watching him.

He’s not going to tell me. Gods and monsters, he’s not going to tell me.

What is he so afraid of?

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

“You really think so?”

Neve nodded. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Seamus said, smiling wryly. “I think I’m more impressed that she got Marin and Phelan on her side.”

“All that took was logic, I think,” Neve said. “And a healthy level of stubbornness. Mostly the logic, though.”

Seamus inclined his head slightly. “Maybe you’re right.” He sat up slowly, wincing. Neve cursed under her breath, reaching for him again.

“Dammit, what are you doing?”

“Sitting up,” he said, wincing. “Don’t start grumping at me about it, either.”

All of the moisture evaporated from her mouth. “All right, fine. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you sitting up? Asking that isn’t grumping, is it?”

Seamus shot her a smile that was half a grimace. “No. But I think I’ve been flat on my back long enough, don’t you?”

“Déithe agus arrachtaigh, Seamus,” she groaned. “You pick now?”

“No better time,” he said, wincing. “Except for maybe before they all left.”

“They would not have let you go with them.”

“Did Thom go?”

Neve winced and looked away.

“If they let him go, they couldn’t have stopped me from going, too.”

Damn. I should have lied. I should have looked him dead in the eye and lied and said that Thom was still here. “Seamus—”

“It’s my fight, too.”

“You had your fight,” Neve said. “Orcus is out for revenge. Let us handle that—let them handle that. Because they will.”

And if they don’t, then it’s up to us to get everyone out of here safely. Somehow.

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

“Thank you,” Neve whispered. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Seamus smiled crookedly, cracking an eye open to look up at her.

“So did you draw the short straw, then?”

“What short straw?” she asked as she settled back into her chair at his bedside.

“Staying behind and keeping an eye on me.”

“Oh.” Neve smiled weakly even as the bottom dropped out of her stomach. “No, nothing like that. I—there needed to be someone here who could lead if things went badly, who could organize whatever needed to happen next. I volunteered to be that person after Hecate and Tala both said they were going whether we liked it or not.”

Seamus stared at her. “Hecate went with them, too?”

Neve nodded. “She said she wasn’t going to be left behind. Marin and Phelan backed her up and Matt couldn’t argue against all three of them.”

Seamus smiled a little. “He could have.”

“And the outcome would have been the same.”

[This post is from Neve’s point of view.]

Neve’s heart seized and she grasped for both of his hands. “How do you know that? How do you know? Is it Leinth? Can you sense her?”

“Not only her,” Seamus said, squeezing his eyes shut for a few seconds before he opened them again, meeting her gaze with a weak, rueful smile. “The Hunt, Neve. It’ll never not be a part of me. I can feel when a battle’s joined. There’s an ache in me because I’m not there with them.”

“You are exactly where they need you to be,” she whispered fiercely, squeezing his hands so hard her knuckles went white. Seamus winced slightly and looked away.

“Maybe,” he allowed, his voice little more than an exhaled breath. “Maybe not. The enemy they face is one of my making.”

“You did not make Orcus,” Neve said. “Don’t start that. That’s not a burden you need to shoulder. We’ve been over it.”

“Have we?” he murmured, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling. “I sure as hell don’t remember.”

“Seamus.”

He sighed, closing his eyes again. It was a sigh she’d heard a thousand times when they were young, before their father was gone, before they shouldered as many burdens as they did now.

Not we. Me. Before I shouldered as many burdens. Seamus always seemed to carry the weight of more than his share, even then. Maybe he did and Teague and I just never knew. Maybe. She took a breath. “Seamus, please,” she said softly. “Don’t do that and don’t do this to yourself. For once in your whole bloody life don’t take the weight of a problem onto your shoulders. Please.”

He was silent for what felt like a long time, staring at the ceiling again before he finally spoke. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Try,” Neve said as she squeezed his hands again. “Please. For all of us, just try.”

“All right,” he murmured, then sighed again. It was a different sigh this time, though, one that was quiet, tired, not the familiar long-suffering sigh that she’d heard so often. “I’ll try.”