InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I wear my sunglasses at night."

Merc poured out their next fingers of whiskey as he considered how odd it was they’d waited this long. Come to think of it, they hadn't really sat down together and talked all season. Sure there'd been chats and ribbing before and after matches but they hadn't really done much more than that and the short chats at the odd family event.

It had been a rough start, being the new first-time coach coming in to rebuild a post-war team was never going to be easy but this season had done everything to throw curves their way. For all their differences they were both still in the same position, and neither had been spared from this season of roster shakeups and injuries along the way.

Merc set the bottle down and picked up his glass in toast. "To surviving our first half season coaching?"

Ellie raised her glass, with a small smirk. Drinking was good. Drinking with Merc have potential to be fun, but more likely complicated. Not that she was any stranger to that. “Slàinte!” She knocked back the whiskey with a well-practiced ease. It was probably meant to sip, and savor, but that’s what the rest of the bottle was for.

“It’s been one hell of a season so far.” And she meant that in every sense of the word. She had punched no less than three Pride employees, slept with the manager because he wouldn’t fight her, lost a legend, got a legend back, and still wasn’t talking to her sister. “Still don’t have a fucking clue how you do any of it.”

Merc knocked his own drink back with a bit of a grin. When in Rome…

“Do what?” He snorted into his now empty glass and looked over at her. “I'm doing the same thing you are, Elsie.”

She pulled a face at him. He couldn’t be serious. “Be an adult in general,” she said first as a non-answer. “But really, deal with the whole not being able to play anymore and watching from the sidelines.” Although maybe it was different for him. He had been out of the game for over a decade, and Ellie was still very much struggling with her new reality.

"I think there are quite a few people who'd argue I'm not much of an adult, but..." The teasing smile fell away from Merc's face as he thought about her actual answer. Was he dealing with it? He wasn't quite sure if he was or just doing his best to ignore it.

Merc sighed and reached for the bottle again. "Who really deals with it well? It took me 15 years to even touch this side of the league again and..." He poured himself more of the whiskey and held the tipped bottle out in offer to top her drink up too "There still isn't a day I don't wish it was me up there. And looking at some of the matches this season makes you think...fuck if they just gave me a broom I could outfly any of them."

Maybe Ellie should have stayed away longer. But barely healed and able to get up on a broom again, not even a year after her career ending injury she had joined the Cannons coaching staff for the 1995-1996 season. She didn’t have time away. She didn’t think she could do it, sure there was always a job at the Reserve but that felt too much like cowardice. Plus the Cannons were fun. And Ellie was just as bad as letting go as she was in dealing with her feelings.

Ellie took the refill, only just resisting the urge to drink from the bottle. “And yet you won’t take my challenge,” she said with a grin.

"That's exactly why I won't take the challenge," Merc shot back with a slight eye roll but small smirk. "When I finished, I was still on top. All that's left of my quidditch career is that reputation. Why ruin it by being the old foggy who couldn't let that speak for itself and had to take every challenge that came his way to prove himself to nobody?"

“Because it’s me.” Although on some level she understood. Ellie had fought hard to get back in shape for 1994 Worlds and go out on top. Still, it would be fun, to feel like she was somehow back in the game. Except while she had taken a few turns as seeker early on in her career, she was not a seeker at heart like Merc was.

"You I can race anytime," Merc pointed out with a smirk. "But I'll admit, if I didn't have a seeker like Lennox...maybe I'd have taken you up on it." Being replaced by a poor seeker would've been more frustrating, and coming into work every day knowing you could out race your starter would've been too much. "It's easier to look like you're dealing well when you're not thinking about how you could outplay your starter any day. I might've gone a bit mad if I had a bad team. Which I know isn’t what a good coach is supposed to say."

Ellie swirled her drink in her glass, contemplating it for a moment. “I don’t know. I think in many ways working for the Cannons was easier.” She wouldn’t have been happy long term, but it was definitely lower stakes, truly fit for someone who was still healing. “Now I have to face the fact that MacDonald is gone. MacDonald.” Which still tore her to pieces just thinking about her part in that.

“And then Lorna…” That was certainly cause to throw back the second shot of whiskey. There were rules for this -- feelings required fighting, fucking, or firewhiskey and truly with Merc only one of those were on the table.

The talk of beater injuries had Merc stare into his glass before downing it again. What could really be said? She'd lost a legend in MacDonald, and he'd lost a beater with potential and more playing years left in him. Maybe they'd both be back and playing, but deep down he knew better.

"Lorna's still flying." He wished he could say more, some empty reassurance that Lorna wouldn't be knocked down. But they were both living proof that no matter how good, it didn't last forever.

“That’s part of the problem,” she said without hesitation. Not that it was easy to say, but she supposed if anyone understood, it would be Merc. Allie had told her she needed to talk, she wasn’t ready to talk to her sister, but hopefully Merc could offer some much needed insight.

That had Merc look back up at her, staying quiet for a long moment as he considered her words. So it wasn't that Lorna was injured...maybe it was that she wasn't. He couldn't deny that his cousin's return to the sport had stirred up buried feelings. What would it be like to return, to have it all back? To be a quidditcher again.

"Lorna's still flying...and we can't. Not anymore," he said quietly.

Ellie poured herself another glass. Two drinks in already, she would savor the burn of this one. Maybe even pace herself a little. “The great come back after just choosing to walk away.” And that was at the heart of it, wasn’t it? Why she had these in between moments of hating Owen, Lorna, and even little Fergus and Rhonna.

“You ever think it would have been better to not have gotten into it to begin with?” Ellie certainly had been having those conversations. And how different her life would have been if she didn’t drag Lorna into the exciting world of professional quid.

Merc took the bottle back from her and poured himself some more. “I used to, after it happened but…” He shrugged and took a sip. “I loved it too much. And I'm not sure I would've been very much without it. How do you find something that compares? The rush, the highs of winning, the crowds...nothing really comes close to how great it felt.”

“Except, then there’s the total bottom of knowing you never get to feel that way again.” He wasn’t wrong. Ellie wouldn’t trade her career for anything, even each and every stupid decision she made because she loved every moment of it. However, even sure as she might be, it didn’t stop the second guessing.

“Not to mention, especially now as a coach, you get to be so close to it, but never get to truly call it your own.”

“Either close enough to fill some of the loss, but not enough to satisfy. Or a maddening tease. Depends the day?” At least that's how Merc felt some days.

“Which brings me back to the question - how do you do it, Merc? Because I am sure as fuck not dealing with it on most days.”

"I'm not sure how well I do it. First few blocs I could at least busy myself since it was all relatively new and there was plenty to do, and I'd just have to push all those feelings down the night before matches and during. It got better in the middle but between Lorna returning and George's injury..." Merc sighed and stared into his glass. They were being honest here, he might as well admit it: Things weren't easy. And it was hard to explain to Gabi or Florrie how it felt, you had to play and lose it all to know.

"I know I haven't been myself. I know I have a lot less patience and I'm on my last nerves with some things. And I know I've been pushing through hoping to get to this break to get away from a lot of it. To watch her up there and wishing you could've had all that is hard, but then turning around and seeing one of your players take a hit that could end them...it makes it all worse." What had his sister said? 'A career-ending injury isn't the end of life.' Well it had certainly felt like it for a few years there. And to think that might be George or even Lex’s near future was too much.

"...I think taking all those years as a break from the sport helped some. I don't know how you went into coaching so soon, Elsie, I couldn't stomach it. But more than that having some part of your life outside quidditch helps."

Merc leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on his knee as he tried to figure out how to put the next part. It was all muddled in his head and he hoped that something of it made some sense. "When I lost it all, I didn't have much of anything outside quidditch. Everything was wrapped up in it, fly or die. Now? Now at least I have an identity outside the sport. And when I actually retreat back into that when I'm not dealing with it all well...it helps things. I tend to get preoccupied and forget to, but it's there."

"It doesn't make any of that go away. I still let it all get the best of me, and losing players or watching Lorna still brings me back to those playing days but...it's easier. It at least gets me through long enough until I have a chance for that escape so I don't feel like I'm drowning in it."

Even if he had paused, Ellie wasn’t sure she would had something to say. Merc was a legend in his own right -- they all were, and maybe that was the problem -- but to hear him say those things? Shit.

“Maybe that’s where I went wrong. I’m all dragons and bludgers.” Perhaps the only exception was whatever she was doing again with Maddock, but even that still fell within those familiar bounds. “All the people I love are tied up in the sport, and if not they are related to me and connected to the reserve. Or both.” Not that she could imagine it any other way, but she had very much dug her own grave on this one.

“I hate knowing there are people in the league older than me now, and also when it was taken from me, still playing.” She had only just turned thirty-one ahead of the 1994 Worlds. It was too soon. Although honestly, anything short of dying on the pitch probably would have been too soon for Ellie. Fly or die, right?

“But mostly,” she paused not sure if she should continue, but Merc was one of the few people who might get it. “I hate seeing Lorna out there, especially playing alongside Luag and they don’t get it. They won’t ever fucking get it until it’s taken from them. And part of me wants them realize how lucky and amazing it is right now, and then part of me sees Lorna falling off her broom after that hit, and never wanting to wish that on anyone.”

“I’m not sure any of them ever will realize it until it happens. I look at my lineup and you know how old most of them are? 31. My seeker just turned 32. He is now an older player than I ever got to be.” Merc wasn’t sure he’d admitted that out loud before, or how much it hurt to think about. He was happy for Lennox, truly, but it was hard to watch so many of his players passing that milestone in front of him.

“None of them will realize how lucky they are, how amazing it is to get to play so long. And yet…” Here Merc thought of Lex and her worries about not getting any younger. “Those that do worry about it, about not being able to play forever...I tell them not to. Enjoy it while it lasts, squeeze everything you can out of it. Otherwise you look back and see you wasted it.”

“Look, Elsie, they won’t get it, it’s true. Luag especially but Lorna...at least Lorna knows what it’s like to not have it in your life. It won’t ever be the same, walking away out of choice, but to have it one day and live the next without it...she might get that part.” Here he smiled at her, it was a melancholic one but that was the best he could muster. “You’re convincing Elsie, and stubborn. But I don’t think Lorna would have come back if she didn’t miss it at least a bit like how we do. If you had left on your own will and you had the chance to come back tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”

“I never would have left.” There was no hesitation, no deviation. Just cold simple fact.

He couldn’t help the soft snort of amusement. Why had he expected any other answer? Merc took a swig of his drink and leaned back in his chair. “Well...not sure I could’ve either. I think it was always going to be an injury that ended us, sooner or later.”

“Is there anything you like about it though? Coaching I mean.” After all, Elsie had been doing it around the league before he ever got the coach’s hat on. Surely something kept her at it.

Ellie would drink to that now and every time thereafter. Especially in the recognition that although they played and now coached for different sides they weren’t all that different. Well, Merc had a wife and the whole kid thing going for him, but more on an emotional level.

“Scrimmy,” she said after a moment. “Getting to see her come into her own this season, especially in the last match with almost a triple century and knowing I played a role in that. That’s brilliant.”

It took him a moment to place the name, knowing her tiny chaser better by her full last name, but once he did Merc couldn’t help but smile. “It’s pretty wonderful when you get to see them progress like that.” Angus and his stellar scoring season came to mind. At the beginning of the year he’d had to put the lad on the reserve and yet look at him now, scoring more than he ever did. Even Jason his lead chaser was improving by the match, Montrose’s top scorers had both gone through Azkaban and come out the other side to pull off a season like this one. “I can never tell how much I helped them get there, but getting to be a part of someone’s career like that...I guess maybe that’s the perk to the whole thing.”

She forewent her cup and took a pull straight from the bottle, before holding it out to Merc. “Shut up and drink.”

It was less an offer and more a directive to be obeyed. There had been more feelings this evening and far more talking than she anticipated with absolutely no punching. Whether that was a sign of personal growth or that she knew that a fist fight with Merc would be a non-starter was anyone’s guess.

That just left drinking. And drinking often left to the need for adventure, or at least something more to take herself out of her head. It was no surprise that she had convinced him to head back out onto the reserve in search of dragons. As if that would somehow be novel -- to find dragons, on a dragon reserve.

But she had always been a rather simple woman.

“Look! Look! Look!” She said smacking Merc on the shoulder and pointing to a clearing down the hill. There two young dragons were playing, which to the casual observer looked more like fighting.

Merc squinted in the direction she was pointing and broke into a wide grin. It hadn't been hard to convince him to drink from the bottle and follow her out to go dragon chasing. It was certainly the funner option.

“Looks like that one on the right is like you. Always far too bitey,” he teased, elbowing her back.

“Oi, if you got teeth doesn’t make sense NOT to use them.” Down below the dragons were going at it, lunging for necks, and tackling each other to the ground. Anyone who had seen Ellie fight might be able to tell exactly where she got her inspiration from. “Especially when you’re up against someone with their own teeth and claws.”

“Is that a foreboding prediction of our next match? Pride coming out teeth bared?” Merc grinned as they hovered on their brooms, looking down into the clearing at the playfully nipping dragons. Being out here, flying and watching dragons, he felt young and carefree. And sure, the alcohol didn’t hurt.

No the alcohol didn't hurt at all. Ellie laughed. “No, my dear, dear cousin this is how Pride trains. We’re a team with dragons among us, who you couldn’t reign in if you wanted. And you bet your ass were coming for you.” She took another pull from the bottle before handing it over to him. “That is if we don't kill each other first.”

Merc took the bottle off her, ignoring the Florrie voice in the back of his head and took a swig. “What’s that supposed to mean? Trouble in the jungle? Also couldn’t reign in if I wanted? Pffft.”

“It means we're wild.” As if to prove her point she circled closer to the young dragon fighting below them. She showed no fear. This was a girl who grew up right here to some extent he's dragging his much her siblings as Lorna. “It means you wouldn't survive a day with my team because, well, you might be part dragon you're not a true dragon and only a true dragon can lead the Pride of Portree.”

“A list of previous coaches would argue otherwise but please, I could last much longer with your team. Just because you let them run wild doesn't mean they're too much for anyone else.” Merc didn't make a jab about her chaotic roster changes, both because he didn't really care to and because he knew roster changes were never easy. Although he did have to roll his eyes at her edging closer to the beasts to prove her point about being a dragon. “Give me your team and I'll show you what I can do with them.”

Ellie was doing easy loops by the dragons, each time passing just a little bit closer. This was an old game and she thought little of it. “Is that a challenge, Merc?” It certainly sounded like a challenge, and Ellie was never one to back down. Certainly he knew that. “Nay, even an ask for a not-so-friendly friendly over the holiday break?”

Merc smirked, allowing his competitive side to come back out. “Maybe it is. Willing to hand yours over so we can see who really trains the best team?” Who cared about the hows and whys of how they’d pull this off?

The less-bitey of the two dragons swung her wing a bit too close to Ellie. Luckily she was just on the good side of drunk to pull away before being knocked back. “If you think you can handle it.”

From his spot hovering at a more sensible (though still probably a bit close) distance, Merc’s smirk turned into a grin. “More than handle. And anyway, why turn down a good challenge?”

“Because you’re old? Or you’re boring now? Or perhaps more accurately that you’re afraid?” It didn’t matter one little bit that she lost the Fall Classic. Or even that he technically had the overall better team, because Ellie knew good and proper that Pride and the Magpies were two very different teams. “But let it be known here and forever, I did give you the out.”