Private Finished The more you know the less you'll eventually find out

Lochlann had muttered under his breath, "What good does stabbing me do?" but it was in Welsh. Guin's hand slipped easily into his and led him to the bedroom and, then, she led him towards the bedroom.

It was a role reversal he didn't expect and didn't quite realize happened until Guin was sitting on the bed and he was holding the ice pack.

Without thinking, he just flopped down onto the bed next to her, lying on his back while he iced his face and she held the ice pack against his side. With his arm stretched over his head, he almost looked relaxed. Almost.

It was hard to be relaxed when he was lying in bed with his mortal enemy and sexual adversary sitting next to him, icing his bruised side.

"I can't believe I punched that guy," Lochlann groaned, the potentially repercussions for his actions starting to leak into his mind. He tried to focus on that because otherwise, he was overwhelmed by Guin's closeness, by her scent, by her voice. Electricity sparked between them like heat lightning and he was afraid he was made of dried wood that might crack should a sudden bolt hit him.

"Thanks," he said, and they sat in silence.

And then Guinevere asked the question.

He groaned.

He dropped the ice pack from his face and propped his himself up by his elbow so he was looking up at her.

"Honestly Guin, I don't know," he said. "No answer I can give you would make it right. I shouldn't have left. I told you I wouldn't, and I really didn't plan on leaving. It just sort of happened. That doesn't make it better and I don't expect it to. I don't really ever expect you to forgive me for that. I don't forgive myself."

Without the ice pack, propping himself up hurt, so he returned the icepack to his face.

"Tsunamis and hurricanes and other big weather things...they kind of...do something to me," he started to explain.

He was being so honest with her because he realized she was drunk. It's not like she was really listening anyway. She'd only hear what she wanted to hear.

"I am a monster," he told her. "And when that wave hit, and I was in the ocean like that for so long...it felt...it felt like I forgot who I was. I don't really expect you to understand this part."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes.

Emily might understand. He wouldn't show her it, not if he could help it, but he realized if she was in his head again one day he could phyiscally show her what it felt like to not be human. He couldn't do that with Guin.

"And then when I did hit land, you were all I thought of. Leaving you was my biggest mistake, but I just kept thinking of you laying there in the hospital, and I was stupid Guin, I just believed it was some random person like you said, I went fucking all over, digging up every person I knew in the states, to try to find some information on who would do that," he said.

Lochlann took a deep breath.

"I sort of thought it was my fault. I thought maybe they came after you because of me, because of what I've done off the island," he said.

He was in too deep to stop now.

He was just laying this out for her, his first dissection, spilling his insides.

"It wasn't until I came back that I realized you'd told me the entire time. You told me before I went home, before i left, and I was just too stupid to realize it," Lochlann said.

he shrugged and laid back down.

"So the reason I left, basically, is because I'm stupid, and I couldn't believe you I guess," he said. "It's not a good reason. But it's what I've got."

Lochlann studied Guinevere while he talked, at least, he did during the periods when his eyes were open. And she didn't do anything.

He wasn't really sure what he was expecting. But it wasn't this. She just kept staring at his bruises and for some reason that made them hurt.

When she started a sentence and stopped it, twice, Lochlann sighed. He sat up and turned on the overhead fan, then pulled the cord and the light turned off. He fell back onto the bed and then tugged at Guin, motioning to the space against him.

"Come here," he said. "And let me show you what it was like."

He sounded tired now. The adrenaline from the fight was gone, and telling Guin about that year had drained him even though he didn't give her the details. He didn't tell her he learned to ride a motorcycle or about how he slipped into a race at the poconos to hustle some money just like his father once did. He didn't tell her about how he'd slipped a knife into someone else in a desperate attempt to find out who'd hurt her.

Because she'd been right all along. He needed to come home because he belonged to her. Why did he think he could find the answers anywhere else?

"I'm not going to do anything to you," he said. "Just come lay here.'

Lochlann was the one who asked Guinevere here, the one who teased with her, flirted with her, and now asked her to lay down with him.

But he was still surprised that she did.

He was more surprised how gentle she was, resting her arm across him to keep the icepack on his bruise. She was searching his face and Lochlann wasn't sure what she was going to find there. he was glad she didn't know--or he hoped she didn't know--just how much power she had over him like this.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He was content to listen to the whirl of the fan. He knew he should feel guilty. He'd kissed her. He'd invited her back upstairs. He didn't plan on sleeping with her--although the thought did creep in there-- but he'd already crossed the line of acceptable behavior.

"Is your head spinning?" he asked.

He rested his forehead against hers for a moment. He breath was sweet and he could still taste the whisky on it.

"Close your eyes," he said. "And don't think."

He didn't know if she'd feel what he did when she'd close her eyes and not think. But for a moment, Lochlann didn't feel anything.

And that, in itself, was a relief.

If her head was spinning and it felt like she was moving but she was nowhere and everywhere at once, then maybe she could start to feel it. Lochlann couldn't help himself though. He trialed his other hand through her hair, stroking it, but the action was automatic and soothed him.

"I am sorry I will never be stronger than you," he told her. "Maybe if I was, things would be different."

Maybe if he was, he could find her father.

And fucking kill him.

"Maybe," Lochlann agreed, and he kissed the top of her head.

He didn't intend to fall asleep with Guinevere Haze. It was a lot like falling asleep in a pit of snakes. Lochlann was thinking about the ocean and he was thinking about the lake and the things that felt good.

He thought about what it felt like when his mane and tail floated in the water around him like the tendrils of kelp and aquatic plants reaching up for the top. He thought about how he could just float, and his joints felt so much better and it was so, so quiet.

It's not that there weren't sounds in the ocean. They were just...different sounds. Clicks and hums and vibrations that traveled the currents. He heard things differently down there, filtered through miles and miles of water.

He loved the sounds of whales.

He was tracing patterns like the ones found in the sand at the bottom of the sea when he started to drift off. Lochlann fell asleep wishing he could show Guinevere the songs of the whales.