WHO: Carys and Drake Parkin!
WHAT: Confrontations after her not so good behavior in NYC?
WHERE: Their flat!
WHEN: Night of her arrival home!



It was becoming hard to breathe. Why wouldn't he look at her? Why didn't he yell? This brooding, this silence, it drove her mad!

"I told you, nothing happened!" she shrieked, her hands grabbing at her hair. James had gone down to sleep not even ten minutes ago, and with the secure one-way silencing spells it was easy for her to unleash herself without fear of disrupting her son's slumber. Carys followed Drake out of the living room and into the bedroom, hot on his heels. He wouldn't look at her, why wouldn't he look at her? "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you also told me you were never drinking again," Drake seethed, not turning to face her as he threw open the dresser drawers. Carys stood in the doorway, feeling as if her husband had wandlessly thrown up an electrifying shield. Her chest heaved with sobs, having been panicked about this confrontation since she'd woken up from her St. Patrick's day bender. Carys couldn't handle the guilt and once James was asleep had confessed about her relapse in New York and her unfortunate choice of companion. She watched as Drake began to throw his clothing into an open bag and the idea that Drake would--leave---it sent her into an even crazier panic.

"You said you'd never drink again," Drake reiterated, "and then you tell me you got wasted with that Italian asshole."

"I'm sorry," Carys cried, finally stepping through the threshold of their bedroom, hands pleading. He couldn't leave, he couldn't leave! "We'd lost---"

"Like I said you would, half your team's wrung out on---"

"I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID!" Carys hollered, shaking with frustration, her mood swinging from terrified of having him upset with her and furious with his lack of understanding. He was always so calm, so cool, so collected, while she looked like the crazy person! What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him? "You said it over and over and over, I know!"

"So why'd you go?" Drake shot back, finally turning to face her, fuming. Carys' face twisted into a snarl of anger and she stomped angrily toward him. All he'd done this off season was tell her that Wales wasn't the same team it had been during the Euro Cup, that she wouldn't be able to control the nutters they'd sent over to New York. What kind of husband did that? Why would he tear down the excitement she'd had about captaining a world cup team? "I asked you to stay and spend the time with me and your son, and you chose those losers! How's it feel?"

"It's the bloody WORLD CUP! You don't miss the world cup! You don't give up a chance like that!" Carys screamed, throwing her hands up into the air. Drake rolled his eyes and scoffed. She ground her teeth and she was literally spitting mad as she threw her fists forward and hit his chest in anger. "Not that you'd know anything about that!"

It happened so quickly that Carys would have sworn she'd been hit with a bludger had Drake's hands not been empty. He had shoved her into the dresser behind her and after the rattling of furniture stopped a terrifying silence fell upon them. Drake stared with wide, shocked eyes, his hands up in the air as if her skin had burned his palms. Carys gaped, the ache in her shoulders pounding.

"I'm sorry," he let out quickly, coming forward. Carys pulled into herself and away from his grasp, eyes locked onto his. She shook her head. Drake frowned, shoulders sagging. "---I'm sorry. Are you--"

"I'm fine."

"Carys---"

"I'm fine," she spat. Carys rubbed her shoulders and pressed against the dresser to keep out of Drake's reach. She shook her head, leaving the room to spend yet another night in her son's room. Carys let out a breath, muttering into the darkness, "Not like it's the first time."