George had gone to the farmhouse first, since Padraig had a tendency to retreat there when his emotions were in turmoil. But there had been no sign of him, nor had there been a body lying broken on the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs. George had made his way to Dublin instead.
"Padraig!" George called, pounding on the front door. There was no response, but George could see the flicker of candle flame in one of the windows. With a sigh, he fished the key out of his pocket.
He found Padraig curled in the corner, looking distinctly traumatized and still bleeding.
"Oh, you idiot," George breathed, dropping to his knees next to his brother. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Padraig's front. "You complete idiot."