| Details for You Can Go Home Again |
| Summary: | Even if for a little while. Niamh is home with her mum and da in Cornwall now.. if only for a little. |
| Date: | 18 November 1937, into the wee hours of 19 November |
| Location: | O'Shea Residence (Cornwall) |
| Related: | Apothecary Purchases Forgotten |
| Characters |
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Home for the O'Shea's. Best description for it could be .. organized Irish chaos, but within the storm, there's a certain tranquility. Items are lovingly in place, but they never seem to stay there for very long before they're moved from sticky fingers, or from casual brushes of various animals that find their way through. The furnishings of the house are, in a word, remarkable. The products of a craftsman who lovingly plied his trade. The fireplace serves as a centerpiece of the livingroom, with irons in the fire to hold various pots and kettles.
The house is quiet, the candles set down to give a warm dimness to the room. Everything is in its place, and so, then, are the residents. Mum and da are settled in their rooms, Niamh is tucked on the overstuffed couch, a warm quilt covering her frame, her head on a muslin pillow, cross-stitched as if by a small child, the small, coloured threads showing barely through the brown locks that lie there. There's a cup nearby, on the coffee table, half drank. Her sleep is fitful, at best; only reason her eyes are closed is for the potion, which has done its job.
The fireplace suddenly bursts with green fire, and spews forth a frantic Hit Wizard. His wand is in his hand, but he is careful to keep it aimed to the floor as he takes stock of the situation. "Mr. and Mrs. O'Shea? Inspector Gideon," he announces himself. "Dinnae be alarmed."
Certainly, it's not alarm that would be the first thought; mum's sent word, and she's actually expecting guests, after a fashion. There's tea out in a wrapped cozy, scones and the like on the coffee table. There's a note on the table as well; though what's written on the note is spoken by a lilting Irish voice, very, very much like another's that the Inspector knows, and it comes from the top of the stairs. "We're up here, Inspector, though Sleepin' Beauty's down an' sleepin'.. or she'd better be. Been expectin' ye, but sorry I'm nae dressed t'greet ye properly a'the moment." It comes with retirement! "There's tea set for ye, an' whomever else may come t'rough this morn.. an' breakfast." With clotted cream.
Niamh's in that fitful sleep, though she's not moving a lot in her position on the couch. It's more.. a twitch, a louder breath on the exhale.. and a drawn breath. She doesn't wake from her sleep, even with the sound of the Scot's voice that must even now begin to find their way into her dreams.
Gideon puts away his wand, feeling more confident that no trouble has followed Niamh here. When his eyes fall upon his beloved, his heart pangs with guilt. He forgets entirely to thank Mrs. O'Shea, and kneels down beside the couch, looking Niamh over. She seems unhurt, but there is just no telling. "Niamh," he says softly, gently tucking his fingers under hers to give her a soft touch that won't feel constricting. He has plenty of experience dealing with trauma victims, and how easy it is to frighten them.
Niamh's always been a slightly heavier sleeper than some, and now is no different, and particularly under the effects of a sleeping draught. It's his touch that brings heavy eyes open, and for a moment, they appear confused, disoriented, and for a moment, fearful. Is she home, in London? Is he here, in Cornwall? Her mouth opens to make a sound before she reaches out for him, wanting to pull him in with her the moment it begins to register as to who it truly is, the reach becoming almost desperate to find the strength and safety that she feels is there, and prove to her that he's not a figment of her imagination. "Adamantus.." is whispered.
Gideon nods, now squeezing her hand. "Aye, love. It's me. You're safe." He leans in to place a soft kiss on her forehead, his familiar scruff brushing roughly against her skin. "You can keep sleeping if you like. I will nae go anywhere. I promise."
Niamh's got a hold on him now, and she breathes a chuffed breath at the kiss to her forehead, her eyes closing with the scritchy familiarity of it. "Mum's got th' potions out," and the normally bright cadence is more a slur, no doubt from the effects, "bu' I can't.." Which means she more.. doesn't want to. "I don't wan' t'go home, though.." and she takes another breath, trying to get her thoughts in order, but there's no real rhyme or reason that she can work out. "Will ye stay?" Really?
"I'll stay," Gideon promises. "You just focus on feeling better, so we can sort all of this out. Your mum's worried. Sent me an owl, and I came right off." He pets her hair, and finally cannot wait any longer to lean over and wrap her in his embrace. "Thank the stars you're safe."
It's the embrace that she seeks and moves to cling to him. "I had t'leave.. no two ways. I had t'get out," she begins softly, her voice is quavering as she holds onto him. He's not leaving! Niamh nods, and her voice lowers, "She said she would.. an' I wouldn't do what she'd asked until she did," and she doesn't sound proud about her defiance; must have been a few words with da. "Sloan, too.. an' Keen.. an' Lindy."
Gideon squeezes her tight in a protective hold. He nods, "Good. Good. They should all know. We'll keep you safe." He kisses her cheek, then moves to help her sit up enough that he can sit with her and hold her. "You did well, getting out. Remembered your lessons. Are you able to tell me what happened?"
At the time, Niamh even remembered Sloan's lesson! Wands aren't the only weapons.. thus, the inkwell. Now, though.. and she curls into him the moment he's aided her in getting into a comfortable position. "I wish I could.. an'.. even the bits make no sense." She rolls her head back, "No anger.. weren't an argument." No shouts.. nothing to jar.. but there's the fear again, and she shivers. "I got out.." she finishes, and she seems even a little confused about that part, even though it's obvious that she made it home.. to Cornwall. At his praise, however, she turns a smile, a weak, tired smile, but one all the same. "I did.. didn't I," then, "I remembered."
Gideon's own smile is weak, but proud. "Aye, you did. That's my girl." He gives her a minute to wake up a little more before pressing again. "Let's see if we can piece this together. What is the last thing you remember clearly?"
"An' Sloan's pillow," Niamh murmurs. She blinks again, and is settled in against him, finding her comfort in the warmth, the scent of him. "Las' thing clearly?" She rolls her head up to look at the ceiling, her eyes turning.. confused, "Ye'd left for work. All's I do, really, is research on this an' that.." and the snippets of memories of the day, "I had customers, I know it.. Mrs. O'Malley, the Everly twins.. an' I fully expected Elijah t'pick up his goods as it's comin' time for him.." and as she goes, it's not a recounting of her day, more.. moments.. that happened? Should have happened? Did? Or..
Gideon nods, quickly seeing this is not going to go far. Certainly not in her exhausted state, and still drowsy from the effects of a Sleeping Draught. "Shhh…it's alright. We'll talk about it later. You just relax now." He rocks her gently, trying to keep her calm while his mind jumps ahead to the next step. If trouble comes looking for her, it will come looking here. Time to find a safer place.
Niamh finds his voice to be soothing, a sound she can hold to. She wraps his hand around her a little tighter, and the frustration that's behind those confused eyes certainly shines through. Her next words, however, sound a relief that she certainly feels, "I'm glad you're here.. sorry it's not Sunday.." When everything is happy, noisy, wild and.. comfortable. She'll take his advice, however, and close her eyes again, leaning on him, finally allowing the potion to do what it's supposed to do now that Gideon is with her.