Reaching

The two matched gaze, one eye blue and crinkled with regret. The others, green, wide and shocked.
“… Hello… Ike…”
Ash dripped from the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He stood stock still for a second, then turned sharply, startled, hurt, angry… the emotions tore at him.
A tiny hand cupped around his arm, stopping him from storming off. He fought the desire to shake her off, run, slam doors in her face. As if she knew, her grip loosened. She wouldn’t have held him if he didn’t want to stay.
“Ah… Ah missed yeh.”
Her voice was strained, emotional. His eyes darkened. Slowly he took a drag from his cigarette, flicked the ash to one side, scratched the tattoos on the side of his neck, and turned.
Mox looked up, her remaining eye clouded. Her face was a little flushed, making him suspect fever. He found a terse comment well up in his throat.
“I see yer no’ pregnant ‘nymore.”
The barb made her physically reel back a pace. He watched as she recovered herself, her eye turning to the ground as she fought back something. Tears? He’d only seen her cry once, when she was pregnant. The bile rose. He snarled.
“Are you done? Are you gonna stop manipulating me now, pretending to have a heart?!”
She stepped back, her gaze rising again, the blue eye brimming with tears.
“Ah… Ah’ll jus’… gae…”
She stepped back, he saw she was limping, holding one shoulder.
“Ah… ferge’ i’… Ah’m sorreh Ah… Ah wasted yer t…time…”
She lifted her fingers to her mouth to bite on, hard enough to draw blood as she turned to leave him. He stared for a moment, tempted to just let her go.
But he couldn’t. Part of it was the physical stuff… they fit together so well… so… emphatically. He couldn’t just let that go without knowing if it was mutual. The rest? Her conviction when she told him she loved him, the absolute determination… silly things, like the carnival tickets, treating him… as he always loved.
“Stop it.”
His voice was a hiss as she grabbed her arm, near the shoulder. She jerked, perhaps not having expected him to do so, but the pained wince told him otherwise. Anger made him tug her about, tearing at her clothes.
Cries around them went ignored as he cleared the interference all the way down to her shoulder. The bandages made him stop. His grip eased, touching the covering lightly. She winced again, shivering, her top half-gone.
He watched, then slowly drew her against him. People were still yelling, running, but it didn’t matter.
“Who?”
She gulped, her tears dampening his shirt.
“A… A poisoned t’orn, from an islan’… Ah was… sae afraid Ah wouldnae see yeh again, n…never, sae sorreh…”
He cupped her close, resting his chin in her hair, feeling the spikes prickling against his neck.
Someone grabbed him, an officer. He frowned.
“This is not your business.”
“Neither is attacking a young lady.”
He blinked, then scowled.
“I didn't”
Mox shuddered, and pushed away far enough to speak.
“Sommat else did… he was tryin’ tae stop me hidin’ th’ injury.”
For all her tears, she managed to keep her voice clear. Ike gently thumbed the tears away.
“Please officer… Ah can’… Ah can’ deal, wit’ this righ’ now… may we jus’, gae?”
The man seemed confused, wondering if this might be a case of domestic abuse, but the man seemed much happier now that he could see her injuries… he sighed.
“Go…”
Ike nodded and pulled Mox against him again.
“We can’t… go back, Mox. Things will never be the same fer us.”
She shivered. He loosened his coat and gently draped it about her shoulders, unable to apologize for the torn top. They strode together towards the Shamrock.
“Ah… Ah know.”
Her voice was soft and quivery. He looked at the sky, forlorn.
“Ah… know, Ah know yeh can’… an’ Ah’ll have t’make do wit’ tha’…”
He sadly stroked the line between her shoulder blades.
“Yeah, I think you will.”