~~Fion Buchanan sighed heavily as he entered the Isle of Ona Hotel: the Isle of Ona's only Hotel; and sat at the bar.  He'd tried very hard not to stagger or wobble as he'd entered.  He'd tried ever so hard to look as sober as he could after having spent the last four weeks living on a diet of whisky and occasional food when he could stomach it,

"Penny for them!" the woman polishing glasses behind the bar called.  He lifted his head and gave the woman a tight, bleary eyed smile,

"They're not worth a penny, Laura." He assured one of his oldest friends.

Laura Macaulay shot him a sceptical look from over her spectacles, narrowing green eyes as she frowned.  She resumed her task, but Fion could feel she was still watching him carefully.  She moved closer to where he was sitting.  Fion knew she had watched him enter the bar and hoped he hadn't looked like the stupid drunk fool he felt as he'd tried so desperately to act sober.  He just wasn't that good an actor though,

"So what can I do for you, young Fion Buchanan?" Laura asked in a motherly tone.  He chuckled.  Laura probably wasn't more than ten years older than his twenty five but she mothered everyone,

"Don't you be laughin' at me now." She told him firmly but with a merry twinkle in her green eyes, "I reserve the right to mother where I see fit, and you, my lad need a little mothering right now." She poked a finger at his chest as he gave a her a startled, slightly vulnerable, almost on the edge of tears look.  He needed much more than just a little mothering.  He knew he looked and felt like shit and he hadn't slept or eaten properly in the month he'd been home,

"Want something to eat?" she asked, gently as she placed the last polished glass on the shelf behind her.  Fion felt his stomach churn at the thought of food.  He shook his head, blond hair falling across his face in lank strands which he brushed away, his movements deliberate and slow, "Some coffee?" she suggested, still watching him carefully, on edge, as if she was ready to jump in and catch him if he fell from his stool. 

Fion shook his head again, oblivious to the concern in her eyes, or at least ignoring it because he knew she was concerned, and he knew she cared that he was slowly turning into a drunk, depressed loser but right now he just didn't want anyone's sympathy.  He knew the mere smell of coffee right now would turn his already complaining stomach even more, so he refused that offer as well,

"No thanks, Laura.  Just a whisky if that's okay." Fion could see by the look on her face she wasn't going to serve him but it was worth a try.  Laura narrowed her eyes,

"Well, now, I don't think it is okay, really." She said shrewdly taking in the state of him.  His usual deep, blue eyes were blood shot and there were dark shadows beneath them that spoke of too many nights drinking far too much whisky for her comfort, "Whisky's no' what ye need, Fion.  A good talkin' to is what ye need and a listenin' ear…"

"Laura, leave the lad alone." A deep voice called from the kitchen behind the bar, "He's no' here to listen to you tryin' tae pry intae his business." Duncan Macaulay was Laura's husband and together they owned and ran the hotel on the tiny island of Ona where they all lived, "Now serve the lad a dram then come back here and leave him to wallow."

Laura shot a narrow eyed glare in the direction of her husband's voice then directed the same suspicious, angry look at Fion.  Grown men twice her size had baulked at lesser looks from this woman and usually Fion would now be retreating with a white flag, except his brain was so fuddled with whisky right now he didn't even register she was angry.  Wordlessly she tossed back her fiery red hair that added to her fearsome reputation and poured him a whisky,

"There!" she hissed, angrily, slamming the glass down in front of her young friend, "Drink yerself to an early grave for all I care," and with that she left Fion to it, joining her husband in the back room.

Fion gave a sigh, partly of relief but mostly of regret and guilt.  Laura had said she didn't care but he knew she did, deeply and that made him feel terrible.  In his present state, however, he had no idea how to put things right. 

He had come for a drink and the hope that he might be able to snag a bottle of the stuff to take home.  He'd bought too many bottles in the last month, from the island general store and buying another one from there might cause the gossips to work over time.  They were already working full time as it was.  He hoped Laura and Duncan would sell him a bottle without asking any prying questions, or at least Duncan might; Laura might want to call a stop to his quickly developing drinking habit before it got out of hand.  And she was probably right to think that way, but right now Fion wasn't ready to stop.

Wasn't drinking yourself to oblivion what you did though, when you'd just split up with your girlfriend of five years and returned to a remote island home with nothing to show for the last half a decade except a measly university degree and some half baked business plans that may or may not get off the ground depending on whether said girlfriend, and shrewd business woman decided to forgive you?

Fion sighed and downed his whisky in one, grimacing at the sharpness of the drink.  Drinking out of grief and guilt was probably the worst reason to drink and the quickest way to spiral downhill but right now he didn't really give a shit. 

He could hear Laura and Duncan discussing him in the back room.  He wondered if they even knew he could hear every word.  He knew the entire island was discussing his situation.  He knew the entire island had an opinion on his situation.  He also knew the entire island had no idea how bad he actually felt and they could all go to fucking hell in a barrel.

Angry words were being exchanged in the back room of the pub, and despite not really giving a damn about what anyone thought right now, Fion had been brought up in a small community that thrived on gossip because there was little else to entertain.  He couldn't help leaning across the bar to listen, it was simply a natural response,

"Leave the lad alone." Duncan was urging his wife, "He's only been back four weeks, that's hardly enough time to stop wallowing in self pity."

"But he hasn't spoken to anyone." Laura was explaining, "He hasn't even mentioned the super bitch yet."  Fion grimaced at the name Laura had taken to calling his ex girlfriend,

"Her name is Janice," he heard Duncan remind his diminutive and hot tempered wife, "and we don't even know the circumstances behind the split.  For all we know she could be the innocent party." Duncan had a sensible, level headed sense of fair play and justice that made him want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  Fion heard Laura harrumph at her husband's suggestion though,

"You want to believe everyone has a good side," she snorted derisively, "but that woman sent him packing back home with his tail between his legs.  She's hurt our Fion bad enough to make him want to drink himself stupid every night, so I'll reserve the right to call her what I want."

"Reserve your judgement until you know all the facts, woman, and keep your nose out until he decides he's ready to talk."

Laura harrumphed again,

"Stop yer bloody harrumphin' 'n' all." Duncan ordered and Fion heard Laura gasp,

"I do not harrumph!" she exclaimed indignantly and Fion wondered whether that was his cue to leave since he recognised the signs of an argument brewing.

He really did want a bottle of whisky though.  Should he just wait it out?

Duncan surprised him by appearing at the doorway from the back room,

"Finished already?" he asked brightly, "Want another?" he pointed at Fion's glass and the young man nodded,

"Please!" he said, "And er, Duncan, if it's not too much trouble…." He left the sentence hanging and Duncan sighed,

"Fion, if I sell you a bottle of whisky I'll have Laura harrumphin' at me for the rest of the day." Fion chuckled,

"I thought she just told you she never harrumphs!" he said with a smirk.  Duncan returned the smirk and walked around the bar, with the open bottle of whisky and another glass.

He took a seat beside Fion and poured himself and the younger man a large measure.  He recapped the bottle and handed it to Fion,

"Here." He said, "Take this, but then, when it's finished will ye consider talkin' to someone instead of drinkin' yerself insensible every night?" he asked, deep concern in his grey eyes as he regarded Fion, searching his face for some sort of reasonable answer. 

He'd known Fion all of his life.  Duncan had watched the lad grow into a man and watched him cope with tragedy and loss that might have made another man crumble.  He'd lost his parents when he was five and then his Granda only a year ago.  He had no idea why the lad was taking his break up with his girlfriend so very badly, but his almost fifty years experience told him that waiting for an explanation was far better than trying to pry one out of the lad.  He knew he'd pushed too far by suggesting the restriction on drinking.  That had to stop though, the lad was destroying himself.

Fion felt his mouth become a straight, stubborn line as he listened to Duncan and he turned away with a sigh.  Duncan sighed too,

"Look, Fion, we're not the only ones who are worried about ye.  The entire island is, and watchin' ye drink yerself into oblivion every night for the last month is not the kind of thing we want our favourite island bairn to be doing."

Fion felt a warmth course through his body at the mention of his nickname from the other islanders.  He'd been the "Island Bairn" since his parents had died.  He'd been raised by his Grandfather but the rest of the islanders and chipped in.  No child had ever had a richer, more diverse "family" than him; an advantage when you needed something but a great disadvantage when you just wanted to hide away from the world.

"Ye need to talk to someone, Finny me lad." Duncan told him in a fatherly tone as he looked into Fion's deep blue eyes, bleary and bloodshot from the almost constant hangover he'd battled for the last four weeks.

Fion sighed,

"Aye, I know I need tae talk.  I will, just, when I'm ready, Duncan."

"After this?" Duncan asked indicating the bottle as he took a sip of his own drink.

Fion sighed.  Duncan had been a very close friend of his father's and he looked up to the man but he was not in a very good place right now.  He just didn't think pouring his heart out to Duncan right now was going to help.  He really didn't want to break down in front of the man and lose what little self respect he might still have.  Plus there was the real possibility that Duncan might not accept what he had to say anyway.  Duncan cared about him though, he knew that, loved him almost like a son.  He gave the man a weak smile, then sighed and hung his head,

"God I wish Granda was here, Duncan, I really do." His Granda wouldn't have cared if there were tears.  His Granda would have listened without prejudice to everything he had to tell about his split with Janice.  But his Granda wasn't here.  Duncan nodded in understanding,

"We all miss him, laddie." He acknowledged quietly.  Fion felt more guilt at his own selfishness.  He wasn't the only person on this island to feel the loss of his Granda or his parents.  Duncan had lost his best friend when Fion's father had died.  He had no idea how that felt.  He knew the older man still grieved the loss.

Duncan laid a hand over Fion's, feeling helpless in the face of the lad's utter despair but he had to tell him some home truths and lay down some rules.  Laura had urged him to talk to Fion, and so had most of the island at some point or other over the last week or so,

"I have tae tell you now, Fion.  No one is going tae give you any more whisky or anything after this last bottle.  The only way you'll get more booze is if you go off to the mainland, and Fraser the Ferryman is under orders not to take you off the island until you've sobered up."

"What!" Fion asked, suddenly angry at the restrictions that were being imposed on him, "You can't keep me prisoner."

"No we can't, but we can keep you here until you come to your senses and stop this self destruction.  A bottle of whisky every night is not good for your health.  If you keep this up you'll not have any sorrows to drown because you'll be dead."

Fion glared at him before snatching the whisky bottle, draining his glass and standing, unsteadily, ready to leave,

"It's none of your bloody business, Duncan." He shouted, his words already slurred since the two whiskies he'd just downed had simply topped up the alcohol already in his system, "If I want to drink myself into an early grave then I will.  No one would miss me anyway.  I'm just a bloody loser with nothing." He waved his hand around in general, "No girlfriend, no money, no friends because they're all just bloody busybodies."

"Now that's just not true, Fion, we're all worried about you." Duncan sounded hurt but Fion's ears were closed now,

"No yer not, you're just worried I'll drink the distillery dry and there won't be any left for the rest o' ye."  With that Fion staggered off. Cradling his bottle as if he was afraid someone would take it off him.

Once he had disappeared out of the Hotel foyer Laura reappeared behind her husband,

"Well that could have gone better." She snapped.  Duncan turned to face her,

"Oh and I suppose you could have done it better could you?" he asked snippily,

"Don't you get snippy with me, mister I'll handle the lad." She made air quotes with her fingers, a sarcastic sneer on her face, "Except I think you just made it worse." She looked past Duncan, biting her lip in a complete mood change from sarcastic to deep concern for their friend,

"He had to be told, Laura." Duncan said quietly, wondering if he had only succeeded in making things worse,

"I know he did, I know." She said softly, rubbing her husband's arm affectionately, "Ye did the right thing, love.  The rest is up to him I suppose."

Fion Buchanan muttered angrily to himself as he staggered home across the fields to his crofter cottage.  It had been where he'd lived with his Granda for almost fifteen years before leaving for University.  Now it was solely his, left to him when his last living blood relative had died.

At the time, a year ago, he had been distraught, but life had gone on.  Janice had been at his side the entire time, holding his hand throughout the funeral service and holding him in her arms when he'd cried himself to sleep more times than he could count, but she wasn't here now, to help him cope with the memories that invaded every waking thought, or the regret he felt that he hadn't been here for his Granda's last days on this earth.  She wasn't here now to help him cope with the regret because he'd messed his relationship up with her big time.

Laura had called her a super bitch, but the truth was, if anyone was to have that title it should be him.  The split had been his fault entirely and even if Janice didn't blame him and had assured him they would stay friends and business associates but she needed some time to cool down and come to terms with things, he still blamed himself fully.

Things had been going wrong long before his Granda had died but relationship problems sometimes get put on the back burner to cope with bereavement on this scale.  He and Janice had simply hoped the other thing would just sort itself out.  It hadn't of course and they had both had to face the fact that they weren't right for each other.

Fion had finally been forced to face the fact that Janice wasn't right for him, not because she wasn't an amazing woman that could put her hand to anything; was loved and respected by her many friends and had the Midas touch when it came to business consultation.  It wasn't because she wasn't an incredibly loyal, passionate and caring person he would forever be proud to call his friend.  She wasn't right for him because she was a woman full stop.

Fion stopped at a fork in the track he'd been following.  One track led to his cottage, the other to the jetty that jutted out into a small private cove.  His Dad and Granda had built the wooden decking many years before and Fion had spent many amazing days there fishing and swimming and simply sitting watching the seals that often visited the secluded bay.

There were some there now.  He could see their heads bobbing about in the waves.  A couple were sunning themselves on rocks, their bodies curved upwards so that they looked like they were doing a balancing act.  They always lifted his spirits with their antics and he needed his spirits lifting, he surely did.

He took the fork to the cove and walked out along the jetty to the end, where he sat to ponder his life now.

He was gay.  He knew that now with certainty.  Janice had helped him see it and then they had decided to call it a day.  He should have known he couldn't have kept it a secret from her and he didn't really know why he had even tried, since the truth will always out eventually.  She was hurt that he had tried to hide it but had also been flattered that he had done it to try to protect her from being hurt.

He did really and truly love her, just not the way she wanted him to.

She hadn't sent him packing, as Laura had so bluntly put it earlier.  Janice had urged him to stay and sort things out a little more in his head, but he had needed to get away from everything that was reminding him of his failings: his failure of Janice in particular.  She had wanted him to explore his newly discovered sexuality but he had just wanted to hide away and forget it.

"Maybe…" he spoke aloud to no one but the grey seals that often boldly swam close enough for him to see their playful personalities in their beautiful liquid velvet brown eyes, "just maybe if I hide here then I won't have to face up to the fact that I like men.  There's no men here that would even consider taking me up on an offer.  So if there's no temptation, then it really doesn't actually exist does it?" He snorted at his bury your head in the sand philosophy.

A particularly bold, grey seal bobbed up and down with the undulating waves, close enough that Fion could have touched the creature if he'd wanted.  He didn't really know why they were called grey seals.  Some of them were grey but this one was mottled with dark brown and tan patches that were quite fetching.  The animal seemed to be listening to him and also seemed to have a bit of a sceptical expression on its surprisingly expressive face, as it watched him take a long swig of whisky straight from the bottle.  Fion grimaced as the hot, spicy liquid burned his throat then bit his lip and sighed, tipping his head to one side and regarding the creature irritably,

"I can't even escape it here, can I?" he asked the thing, "You're just like Laura you are.  I wouldn't put it past her to be askin' you lot to keep an eye on me too." He chuckled as he leaned closer to the seal and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "She'll see me tellin' the entire island my inner most secrets in a power point presentation in the community centre." He stood and the animal jerked back in shock, but did not leave,

"Buy tickets for Fion's coming out party." He shouted to the world in general, spreading his arms wide, "Come and see the only gay on the island drink himself into an early grave as he contemplates how much he's let you all down." He waved his bottle about wildly and staggered a little, only stopping himself from falling into the water by collapsing back down onto his knees.  The watching seal did not move away from him,

"That's another reason for them to be disappointed." He slurred to the creature, who seemed to want to listen to him spill his guts.  He sighed shakily, "We had such high hopes for this place, seal old boy." He chuckled for want of a better name for the creature that was now his apparent confidante, "They were all on board, all the islanders." Fion slumped onto his backside with a grunt, "We were going to build holiday cabins and advertise this place as the ultimate wildlife discovery getaway." He took another long swig of whisky and held his hand over his mouth as he burped loudly, "Sorry." he realised he was apologising to a seal and giggled uncontrollably. 

Getting himself under control he continued; his dark blond hair, lank from lack of washing, falling over his face as he leaned forward, teetering on the edge of the jetty, to tell the listening seal everything,

"Janice had put together a business plan." He hiccoughed, "Did I tell you she was a business whizz?  Well she is." He nodded to back up his statement, pointing at the seal in that way drunk people do when they're talking to someone and trying to emphasise a point, "She's a businesh conshultant.  People go to her with their ideas and she puts together a plan.  She put together our plan and she had inveshtors ready and everything, then thish….."

He waved his hands derisively up and down his body, sneering at himself in disgust,

"Thish stupid arse had to go and mess it all up by discovering he was gay." He laughed hysterically, waving his hands about wildly, "I haven't even slept with another man for fuck's sake.  I haven't even kissed one, so how the fuck can I know?  But she did." He hung his head, "She'd seen me looking.  She'd seen me getting hot under the collar when we went to see some male strippers with her friends.  God they were hot though, and one of them was flirting with me.  He was!" he said indignantly to the sceptical looking seal, "He was.  He was lovely and he suggested we go somewhere quiet, you know, but I turned him down, but Janice had seen it and had seen that I really wanted to.  She even suggested I went, just to try it."  He felt tears well up in his eyes as he crouched down on all fours to get closer to the listening seal, "She's so understanding." He said quietly, almost reverently, "What did I do to deserve a friend like her?" a tear fell down his cheek to fall in the water.   He took a respectful swig of whisky from the bottle and held it up to the seal, "Here's to Janishe." He toasted.

Another tear fell down his cheek unchecked and into the water.  The seal seemed to watch him even more closely.

Fion shook his head and two tears fell,

"I'll never find anyone like her." He wailed, "She was shpecial." He hung his head, "I would give anything to find someone like her to share my life with.  If she'd had a flatter chest and a dick we'd have been laughin'." He sobbed instead though and three more tears ran down his face to fall: splish, splash, splosh into the water.

In the silence and peacefulness of the cove as the sun gradually dipped beneath the horizon, Fion imagined he almost could hear the tears falling.  He remembered something his Granda had told him when he was a boy.  Why he would think of that particular memory now he didn't know.  It was a fairy tale really, and Fion didn't much believe in fairy tales despite being a little bit of a romantic, 

"Cry seven tears into the sea, Fion, and make a wish.  The Selkies will answer your prayer."

Fion chuckled as he regarded the seal that still watched him with mild curiosity and a great deal of boldness, so much so the creature appeared almost cocky.  He wasn't even sure what a Selkie was to be honest.  He knew they had something to do with the sea and something to do with seals in general,

"Are you a Selkie then?" he asked the listening seal with a slightly hysterical giggle, "I just cried you seven tears.  What are you going tae give me in return eh?"

He leaned back on the jetty and downed the last of the whisky from his bottle,

"I'd ask you for whisky but I suppose Laura has placed the same restriction on you about not giving me any more." He chuckled at the thought of Laura telling all the fairy folk that under no circumstances were they to magic him up anything to drink.

Fion sat back up again on his heals and leaned forward, beckoning to the seal unsteadily.  Was it his imagination or did the attentive creature actually move closer.  Conspiratorially, Fion placed a finger on his lips and whispered loudly,

"Maybe you should just bring me a man." He suggested as he felt his eyes flutter and tried to keep them open until he had finished his drunken request.  He yawned lazily, "Aye, that's right, seven tears for a man.  Send him over from the mainland looking for some sort of wild passionate affair.  I'm no' askin' fer much, just a one night stand for now.  The ferry's due in tomorrow so make sure he doesn't miss it eh? Oh, and make sure he's not a minger, although I suppose beggars can't choosers can they?" Fion frowned and hiccoughed then fell back onto his backside with a soft cry of surprise.

The seal seemed to be craning its head to see him now as he lay down across the planks of the jetty.  Fion lifted his head and gave the creature a jaunty wave.  He bid his seal confidante a very good night before falling into a deep, drunken sleep.