Diamond in the Rough

He's at the window topless and looking out into the early morning, the tops of the buildings in the distance highlighted with the sun. A pair of arms wrap around his waist, a pair of lips kissing the back of his shoulder. This is where he wants to be, waking up every morning to a beautiful view and waking up with Claire beside him. But that fantasy is short lived. He had betrayed her and she doesn't even know it. Guilt pulls at him when she talks about the robbery, how scared she was when one of the men threatened to "fuck her and kill her" if she went to the cops. Doug knows that Agent Frawley has been occasionally calling round, checking up on her as if she is part of the whole robbery. Her only part is that she got caught up in it which is partly his fault.

"Does it bother you about my past?" Doug asks softly.

He can feel Claire moving to his side and with regretful eyes, he finds it hard not to just tell her who he really is.

"No. You're a different person from who you were back then. What's brought all this on?"

Doug sighs and leans against the window ledge, his arms folded across his chest.

"My dad wants me to visit him."

"And that's a bad thing?" Claire asks.

"He thinks I'm like him and I'm not. I keep trying to turn my life around, but this town is holding me back. If he had his way I would be his cell mate"

Claire cups his cheek and gently kisses him on the mouth.

"I don't think you are anything like him, Doug. You're a better person than most of the people in this town. You rescued me, didn't you?" She says with a warm smile.

"You took time to be a friend when I needed one. When I still need one and I'm so glad I didn't run like hell in the laundrette or we wouldn't be standing like this. Go see him"

***

She hands him a beer and settles down on the sofa next to him, her laptop and paperwork pushed onto the floor, joining the mess of boxes and flat-pack furniture that needs to be built.

"You can kick me out you know" He says with a chuckle, sucking down the beer like he's never tasted it before.

"I welcome the distraction" Fiona says and takes a sip of her wine. To be honest she had been looking for any excuse to avoid the boxes and paperwork.

"I'm a distraction now?" He says with a cheeky tone, half mock offended.

"Maybe you are"

Jem laughs and takes in his surroundings. It's clear that Fiona has a lot to do before she can call this house a home.

"Nice place" he says.

"There's still a lot to do. That flat-pack furniture is a nightmare. Hard to believe my whole life is in a few boxes"

Jem visually checks out the thin boxes stacked against the wall.

"Got any tools?"

She looks at him, confused.

"I'm here so I may as well give you a hand."

"What's your price, Coughlin?" Fiona laughs.

"I dunno" he shrugs his shoulders"Guess that's up to you"

He gets up and goes into the kitchen with his empty beer bottle and opens the back door to go out and smoke. He feels different around her, less aggressive and more calm. It's confusing him because he's always hot headed and the one to throw the first punch, but around Fiona he's a softer version of himself. When he thinks about it he looks and sounds like Doug.

Jem looks up to the darkening sky and smokes his cigarette, feeling pretty content for some strange reason. A clunk in the kitchen grabs his wandering mind.

"You okay?" He asks, closing the back door.

"Shit. I forgot how heavy this is" Fiona grunts with exertion as she pulls out a red, rusty tool box from underneath the sink.

"Give it here" he picks it up with ease and carries it into the sitting room and Fiona just watches him. She is staring at the muscles in his arm as it carries the weight, bulging and stretching.

Fiona watches him as he throws the instructions to the side, a cocky look in his eyes that say, I don't need these. Even when they were kids she saw the same look, confidence.

Jem makes quick work of building the furniture and wipes his sweaty brow on the back of his hand. He stands back and takes a look at his handiwork. It's been a while since he last turned his hand to anything other than crime and it feels kind of good to have something different.

"Do you want a sandwich?" Fiona asks him. He's putting up the final shelf on the brackets and turns round with a quick smile.

"Sure"

"How about ham, cheese and pickle?" She asks.

He stops and follows her into the kitchen, thirsty from the hard work. Jem watches her from the doorway as she cuts slices of seeded bread.

"Sure"

Fiona drops the knife and grabs her chest.

"You scared the hell out of me!"

Jem laughs.

"Sorry. Need a hand?"

"I've got it all under control. Do you want mustard?" She asks as she returns the ham and cheese to the fridge.

He nods as she reaches up into the cupboard, sort of stretching.

"I'll get it" he says and reaches up for the mustard. Their bodies are so close they are almost touching and for some reason he looks down at her and their eyes lock. It feels like two magnets are pulling them closer together.

"Thanks for fixing the furniture" she says, still looking at him.

"No problem" he flashes her a small smile and then moves away.

They take their sandwiches into the sitting room where Fiona admires the built furniture and shelves on the wall.

"I have to admit that you're pretty good with a hammer" she says.

Jem takes a bite of his sandwich and gives her a modest smile.

"That ain't all I'm good at"

"Getting yourself into trouble is something you do best" she agrees and then kicks herself when she realises what she's said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that"

"Why not?" He replies "Everyone around here knows I'm trouble. No point in bull shitting yourself, right?"

"You've made mistakes, Jem."

"Mistakes?" He scoffs. He's starting to get angry. "I've made a shit load of mistakes. I've robbed people, I've fucking killed someone and I shot a fucking paedophile's dick off. Those are fucking mistakes?"

Fiona stares at him.

"And I'd do it all over again if I fucking had to cause this is who I am! You, no judge or nobody fucking else can change that"

"You shot Mickey Brisbane?" She asks, shocked. "Do you realise what you've just said?"

Jem glares at her angrily.

"You've just admitted to a violent crime. You'll be sent to jail"

"Go a fucking ahead. Call the cops."
He snaps at her and grabs his coat, slamming the door on the way out.
Fiona grabs the cordless phone and taps in three numbers.