The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore

With my hands shoved deep into my pockets, I sauntered beside Brady. Our feet pounded on the cobblestone sidewalk in unison, the only noise breaking the strangulating silence between us as we headed into town. I combed my fingers through my hair and released a wavering sigh from my chapped lips.

Brady shot me a sideways glance and arched an eyebrow, "You all right Sorcha?"

"I'm fine, Brady, just fucking fine," I snapped, crossing my arms and avoiding his gaze. My insides were twisting and my head was pounding.

"Seriously, Sorcha, you're shaking…" He gently placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I jerked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied. The tremors were hard to ignore as they traced down my body. I ached for some alcohol, perhaps some weed or a couple of pills. I needed anything to obliterate me out of reality.

"Oh, fuck it," I announced suddenly, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "I don't care what Mamó said; I can find my own sodding job. I don't need you to be my babysitter, no matter what anyone has told you. I can take care of myself."

"This is not a bleeding job search, Sorche. If you really need a job, I'm sure my mate Sean will give you one. He could always use some help 'round is shop."

"Then why won't you leave me alone?!" I exclaimed, tearing around to glare at him.

"Because I'm worried about you!" Brady replied. "Cory called and told me about the shit you've been doing to yourself. C'mon Sorcha, you're better than this."

"I don't believe it's any of your business. You don't know what I've been through, nor do you know what I'm going through now. So, how about you stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and leave me alone."

"Get over yourself, Sorcha. You're not the only person in the world going through a hard time," Brady stated.

My breath caught in my throat and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes, but only for a moment. I gathered myself and produced the coldest glare I could muster, "Fuck you, Brady. Fuck. You."

And with my words hanging heavy in the air, I turned on my heel and stormed off down the sidewalk, heading in no particular direction. All I needed was to find some sort of escape.

* * *

When Sorcha's eldest brother Cory (who was a lot nicer to Sidney and much less intimidating) said she wasn't home, Sidney expected him to say she was at some bar, or with some friends, or even screwing some random guy in an alleyway. He expected Sorcha to be somewhere inside the DC Metro area.

Yet, he was boarding an airplane to Cork, Ireland, with a short layover in a New York City, to continue his determined pursuit of Sorcha Brogan.

Once he landed in Ireland, Sidney was left to the guidance of Cory Brogan's instructions on how to get to the up-and-coming, seaside city of Cobh as well as to their grandmother's house, where Sorcha had taken shelter for the summer. The train ride was only twenty minutes, so it wasn't long before Sidney was stepping out of a cab in front of a medium-sized, light blue house, located on the edge of the city, only a couple of blocks from the beach.

The Nova Scotian could hear the soft lapping of waves as he stepped through the front gate and walked up the pathway to the house. Gulping, Sidney rolled back his shoulders before lifting his fist and knocking. After a few, uneasy moments of silence, the front door was pulled open, revealing a tiny woman, with long, loose waves of gray hair and a pair of warm chocolate eyes. Sidney wouldn't have been surprised if this woman had an array of freckles hidden in her wrinkles.

"Hello, may I help you?" the woman asked in an incredibly thick accent. Sidney shifted nervously.

"Yes, I'm looking for Sorcha. Cory said he'd call ahead of time to warn you about my arrival…" he awkwardly trailed off.

"Aye, yes, you're Sidney then?" Sidney nodded. She smiled warmly. "Cormac said we'd expect you sometime today. He also said you were quite taken with Sorcha."

Sidney gulped, "Uhm, yes ma'am, I am…"

"Well then, come in! I'm afraid Sorcha's not in at the moment, she's spending the evening with her cousin, but come on through and I'll make you a cuppa. You must be knackered from the journey."

The woman turned from Sidney and headed on into the house, leaving him to shut the door and follow her through the cozy house and into the warm kitchen, where she was already at the stove, pulling off the steaming kettle, which had been put on before Sidney had arrived. She turned as he entered the kitchen and motioned for him to sit down at table.

"I'm Chloe Brogan, by the way, Sorcha's grandmother," she announced as she poured the tea into a pair of teacups and bringing the cups over before sitting across from Sidney. "So Sidney, where are you from?"

"Nova Scotia, ma'am, right outside of Halifax," he answered anxiously.

"A Canadian then?"

Sid nodded, "Born and raised."

"At least you're not American. I've always hoped my grandchildren end up with Irish folk, but Canadian will do. A lot more polite than those Americans, more intelligent, too, I presume." Sidney raised his eyebrows at her.

"I-I guess so… I live in America, though, Pittsburgh to be exact."

"Mhm, Cormac said you were an ice hockey player, or whatever. I've never really cared much for the sport, but I know my son Damian sure got those children into it. And now some of my other grandchildren are poking around at the Irish league games. Seems like a whole lot of fuss over a piece of rubber and some sticks, but perhaps I'm just too old to appreciate it. You like your job, Sidney?"

"Yes, Mrs. Brogan, it's always been my dream to play professionally. I couldn't ask for a better job," Sidney explained honestly.

"Well, at least you're passionate. And please, don't call me Mrs. Brogan, Chloe is just fine," she responded, causing Sidney to nod.

Sidney and Sorcha's grandmother spoke for awhile longer before they were interrupted by the kitchen door bursting open, a tall, lean brunette male coming in, out of breath with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"Christ Almighty, Brady, you're going to give a woman a heart attack!" she exclaimed in a scolding tone.

"Sorry, Mamó, but is Sorcha here?" he asked breathlessly.

"I thought she was with you?" She looked at her grandson skeptically.

"She was, but she ran off mid-afternoon. I've been searching all over for her. I haven't the faintest idea where she could be at…"

"Well, she's about to be twenty-years-old, I'm sure she can take care of herself. Now, pour yourself some tea and sit down. Your pacing is making me dizzy."

Brady did what his grandmother instructed, taking a seat at the head of the table. He took a sip of his tea before shooting a confused look in Sidney's direction.

"Who are you?" He asked in a thick accent, though his was much less thick than his grandmother's.

Sidney opened his mouth, but was cut off, "Brady, this is Sidney. Apparently, he is quite taken with our Sorcha."

Brady looked at Sidney intensely for a moment before speaking again.

"Aren't you Sidney Crosby?" The twenty-two-year-old reluctantly nodded. "I could've sworn Sorcha hated you…"

"Yeah… I'm kind of hoping to change that…"

* * *

A dazed grin was plastered on my lips as my arms fell to my side, allowing my calloused fingertips to brush the concrete floor. I could still taste the vodka in my throat as I listened to the faint murmur of voices and a thumping bass line. My head fell back lazily as a warm wave washed over my body. I watched as colored lights danced across the black ceiling of the club as I soaked in this feeling of an unfamiliar high.

I had done a lot of things in the past couple of years, taken a wide array of drugs, but never had I done this. Never had I done heroin. I had heard of the high it produced, the warm, relaxed feeling that took over, but my friends' words hadn't done the drug justice. Everything had melted away as soon as the heroin had been injected into my veins.

"How do you like it?" a deep voice asked from beside me. I lifted my head to meet his dark gaze as another wave of warmth washed over me. A soft moan escaped my lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

Nodding, I leaned back again, biting my down on my lower lip. The man beside me, whose name I didn't even try to remember, continued to talk to me while I enjoyed the new and unfamiliar feeling, my eyelids fluttering closed as I did so.