"You lied to Eric last night, telling him that I said for him to give you my number. Why the hell would I want you to have my number when you keep telling everyone that I'm going to get someone killed. Why would I want you to have my number when I blame you for Horacio's death?"
A.J. looks down at the ground and shakes his head. He knew he had lied to Eric. He wasn't afraid to admit it either. She couldn't begin to understand the shame he felt for having to play out the deception he had on Eric, but it was what he felt he had to do. He looks up at her and says, "I did lie. I am not proud of it, nor will I say I did not lie to him. It is the truth. I did it and I am ashamed of it, but, I had to do it. It was the only way I knew that you would come talk to me without a crutch to lean on."
A.J. nods in the affirmative when she asks about a crutch. He walks over to the bar and grabs two tumblers meant for whiskey. He then pulls off the shelf an older looking bottle with Gaelic writing on it. The bottle is sealed with a cork and filled with an amber liquid. He walks back of to the table and sets the bottle and tumblers down, one in front of the seat he had been sitting in, one at the place across from him. He looks at her as he places the bottle in the middle of the table and says, "Every time I talk to you, you are not alone. You always have a crutch in the form of another person to support you. It has been like that since Horacio died. First it was Meg, always there in your head. Then it was Cocteau and now it is the Assamite. I figured the only way I would get to speak to you alone without another to make you stronger was to do something so out of character for me, that you would be so angry that you would not want anyone else around. The only time you do not want someone around is when you are that angry."
He pauses and turns to the bottle and pulls a corkscrew from his pocket and pops the cork on the bottle. There is a strong scent of old Irish Whiskey that emanates from the bottle. He pours the amber liquid into both glasses. He then takes a seat in his chair and motions for her to join him across the table. He then continues, "You blame me for Horacio's death. I want an explanation of why you blame me. What did I do, that got him killed by Colonel Walker?"
"To make me stronger? Are you fucking kidding me? MEG USED ME! I didn't have her with me because I needed her to make me stronger...She kept me with her through her fucking powers. If anything Meg made me weaker! I could not do or say anything unless she wanted me to. She controlled me, everything of me...I couldn't stop it. Cocteau was willing to help me...he's the only one she trusted enough to not be in my head when I was with him. Why do you think I tried to stay with him as much as I could? It's because with him I didn't have to worry about her penetrating my thoughts. That's when he and I started our relationship, the most gentle man I have ever known. I don't expect you to understand...as you have never truly been in love."
She stops a moment as a tear starts to trickle down her cheek.
"And the Assamite isn't here to make me stronger, I speak for myself. As a matter of fact, I am alone most of the time. Domino is only with me at gatherings. Could be that whole debt of gratitude thing."
When he talks about Horacio she shakes her head at him.
"You held him back. If you hadn't done that after I left then he would have been with me, and we would have been in Ireland the next night. He would still be alive, and now that Meg is gone, he could have come back to me with no belief that his life would be in danger. It was Meg who wanted him dead, and Meg who controlled the right people to get it done, all because she wanted me, and you helped her win."
A.J. sits and listens to her tirade. He makes no expressions to provoke her or to anger her. He simply listens to her. When she is finished he takes a sip from his glass and closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the flavor of the liquid. He then opens his eyes and looks at her. He shrugs and says, "You still have not answered my question. How am I responsible for Horacio's death. Did I physically restrain him from leaving? If you recall, I was willing to help him hunt down Meg at that time. I was wanting to help him protect you. I wanted to protect you. So, again, how am I responsible for his death?"
Bookmarks