the bloodhound

Half of him isn’t sure there is a way to be ready for this. He’s still startled, from the realization that, no matter what Jo says about it being unlikely that Liu is behind it all, they might be accepting the hospitality of a murderer. Staying in his home, eating his food. Sleeping in his bed, in Fitz’s case, among other things. He’s not exactly squeamish about murder, but there’s something particularly grim about the widowmakers, the fact that the vanishing sickness has spread past what might’ve been an initial target to so many people in the village, something Liu as a scientist certainly would have known to expect. 

The other half is a steady thrum of resignation at the back of his mind. Of course he couldn’t just have fun for a night without it turning into this – not after the chaos with Bondurant the evening before, not after every unpleasant reminder of the decisions that brought him here. Fitz wasn’t destined to have fun affairs with nice men that ended amicably, no – it seemed the destiny of his love life was to continue to be as tumultuous as it had always already been.

     ‘Sure,’ he sighs, giving them a nod. ‘Suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.’

He’s tempted, walking out of the bedroom behind Jo, to just let them take the lead for this discussion, but he also knows that it will be suspicious if he doesn’t say anything, especially after his panicked summons a few minutes before.

     ‘Misplaced my damned cigarettes,’ he says, as he exits the room, doing his best to fake his normal light, jovial tone. ‘Thought I was losing my mind. Can’t be trusted to do anything before I’ve had my tea, can I, Jo?’

“Nope,” they chime, trying their best to act as though everything was perfectly normal as they return to their seat at the kitchen table. Curling up their legs underneath them, they reach out for the steaming cup of coffee in front of them, taking a steady drink of it to help calm the nerves still jittering just under the surface. 

“Well I guess it’s a good thing this just finished brewing,” Liu smiles as he hands Fitz a mug of what Jo can only assume to be tea. It’s just then that they realize they’ve been drinking something prepared by someone who they now know is linked to these deaths. Looking down at the coffee in their hand, they grimace slightly, hoping their gut was right about Liu and they just hadn’t inadvertently drank some kind of poison concocted by the magizoologist. 

“So what all do you have planned for today?” Liu asks as he returns to the stove to finish cooking breakfast.  Jo looks over at Fitz as the question hangs in the air, taking the moment while Liu’s back is turned to shoot their partner a worried expression. 

“Um I think we’re going to go back and talk to a couple of our suspects again”, they reply, “maybe you’ve heard of them? Their names are Donald Bondurant and Sylvia Lamore?” 

She sees Jo hesitate, at the end of the block, can tell from their body language that this is their turn, that their home lies somewhere in that direction, that this is the place where they should part ways and each go in different directions to get to what each considered home. And she can tell, from their body language, that they aren’t sure whether or not to do that, just now. 

She doesn’t, either. Not really. It’s a startling kind of realization, for someone who has always preferred the privacy of solitude, from someone who had made a solemn promise not to get too close to any of her new colleagues. But it was looking less and less like she’d get her department back any time soon. More and more like the almost-friendships she’d been trying to ignore – Jo, and Winter, and after this week maybe even Daniel – were going to be the only port she had in this storm.

     “I don’t really know,” she says, but what she does know is that if it had been anyone else asking, that wouldn’t have been her answer. There’s something about Jo – their honesty, their bluntness – that makes her feel like she wants to be honest, even if the honest answer is that she has no idea what she’s doing. “I hadn’t gotten much farther in my plan than go home and, like, bury my face in my cat’s stomach for a while until she decides she’s sick of me.”

It seems like a grim picture, as she says it out loud. Like she’s given up on ever having anyone else matter to her. 

     “I–” she starts, and then hesitates, working herself up to it. “I could use a little company, honestly.”

“That does sound nice,” they chuckle at the thought of Beth snuggling up to a large fluffy feline. The chuckle quickly fades though when Beth brings up the mention of company, clearly implying the company in question would be them. Mouth hanging slightly open for a moment, they look at her nervously before nodding their head, hoping their words would soon find them. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, if you’d like me to go with you, that’d be great,” they beam, hoping this wasn’t some dream they’d found themself in, and they wouldn’t be waking up in a puddle of their own drool at their desk at any moment. 

“I do have to warn you though, your cat probably won’t like me”, they add. “Most don’t because of the whole- well you know.” ‘Won’t like’ was probably a vast understatement of how cats reacted around them, and they had the battle scars to prove it. They weren’t going to let something as silly as Beth’s cat stop them from going with her though, if it came down to it they did have a long sleeved jacket in their bag should her cat be a scratcher. 

It’s clear that there’s nothing to be done now, it’s clear that Myra is right about what would’ve happened if they had run instead of making this choice, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept that they were a part of this now, that they were going to have lie for criminals. Because there was no way they could give them up now. At this point, they weren’t even certain that Ester’s memory would be able to be recovered, not knowing much about memory charms. Sure, they could probably break through some of it with their legilimency, but returning all of those memories, that love back to her in tact would be a much more difficult task. And for what? To damn her to a life behind bars, too? To make Myra’s choice for nothing?

She could say that she wasn’t going to force them to lie and risk their own well beings, yet alone integrity of what they did, but in a way, at least in Salem’s mind, she already had. To them, there was no choice left, because they didn’t have it in them to ruin that sacrifice, so that someone else’s life could be destroyed as well. And hearing Myra as she looked back at Ester only confirmed that. It wasn’t a feeling they had ever really understood before, not something they could ever have imagined feeling for someone else, but they were starting to understand, the lengths that one might go to in the hopes of saving someone they cared so deeply about.

And how could they be the one to judge that worth less than the cold and sterile law?

Even before they can say anything, Jo is speaking up, agreeing to keep Ester from taking any of the blame, agreeing to lie for them both. They can hear their thoughts, and they nod slightly as Jo looks at them. It feels like a grave choice because it is, they’re agreeing to lie to everyone, to Snow, to all the other aurors, to MACUSA, and to do everything they can to make sure that lie is believed. They’ve never been very good at lying, but too much depends on this one, and it feels like the one thing they can do for Myra, for everything she gave them when they were a child, terrified of everything around them.

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t make it further, I wish there was any way we could give you a chance at that, together,” Salem says, voice quiet, looking at Myra. “We’ll make sure none of it’s on her.” They pause for a second, letting the gravity of their agreement wash over them. But they can’t think on it too long, a distant scream from the main cabin interrupting their thoughts, reminding them that they’re still in danger. 

“We have to go, now, or else it’ll all be for nothing.”

The scream in the distance visibly rattles them, their head bolting in the direction of the cabin where it stood just up the hill on the other side of the boat house’s door. Time was running out, no matter how much they willed it otherwise. They just wished they could figure out why this even happened in the first place, they were the only other squad at the penitentiary when they searched the place, and they should have picked up the scent of someone else following them if that is what happened. Suddenly, as they mentally go over their steps at the prison they remember the guard, the way she looked at them curiously as they asked her to lead them to the employee bunks. Yes, it must have been, she had to have alerted the other squad after she figured out where they and Salem were going. 

None of that mattered now though, not with Faye and Rose still fighting for their lives in the cabin, and the four of them needing to run for their’s. Letting out a shaky breath they nod at Salem’s suggestion, and take Esther’s hand just as she’d taken their’s when they first entered the cabin. 

“Alright, we go straight to headquarters. I’ll drop Ester off at the infirmary and you can take Myra to holding. We say we found them running in the woods, and that Myra had Ester hostage. What do you think?” 

It’s clear that the fight raging on in front of the cabin is going to keep them all occupied for at least a short amount of time, just enough to get out of harms way and to apparate somewhere safer, back to headquarters even. It should be easy, it should be nearly over, even if Salem’s thoughts are still racing, just like their heart as they run into the boat house with no trouble, leaning back against the wall, trying to catch their breath as they finally have a split second of safety. It makes no sense, though, how it came to this point, how the other squads came to the cabin, but there’s no time to wonder what had happened, seeing Myra and Ester coming together for what could be one last time.

They watch silently, feeling a little like they’re intruding on a private moment, feeling a little more like they wish there was some way this wouldn’t be the end for them, that they could just let them leave somehow, give them the chance at the quiet life together it seemed they were looking for. But they can’t, no matter how desperately their heart aches as they watch the tearful goodbyes.

It feels like time slows down for a split second in the moment after she says those words, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of. They can feel something coming, instinctually from the stress and the strain and the worry reach out around them, can feel Jo’s similar emotions, Ester’s determination, Myra’s heartbreak, and her plan. They’re just about to interrupt, but everything speeds up again and the spell hits before they even have a chance to move.

Myra steps back, and it’s clear from the nearly blank, confused look on Ester’s face that the spell worked as intended. They look over at Jo, feeling just as out of their depth as they look. There’s panic rising in their chest, and they need to keep going, need to leave, but they can’t think past what they’ve just seen.

It feels a whole lot like everything is completely out of their hands, like no matter what they do now, it’s not their choice. It’s the realization that there’s nothing to do to take what she’s done back, that things are out of their control, combined with knowing she cares so deeply for her that she would take all of the blame, so she might go free, that breaks something in their chest, and they can feel warm tears welling up in their eyes.

“What have you done?!” they nearly shout, desperately, looking back at Myra. Except they know exactly what she’s done, can read it clearly in her thoughts, can see her whole plan, a snap decision made with certainty, as clear as day. Erase the memories, erase any chance of her taking responsibility. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to give her that chance; I can’t let her ruin her life for me,” she explains, face still stained with tears, but gaze resolute.

“But we know,” Salem says, voice breaking slightly. Their thoughts were moving too fast, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened, and what that meant for them and Jo. “What are we supposed to do? How can we…I don’t know what we do. You could’ve just run, I can’t fight you, you could’ve escaped together if you didn’t want her getting caught. But now…it’s on us to lie.”

Jo remains frozen in place as Salem speaks up, their gaze shifting between the three wixes in front of them. Ester, having only been hit with the spell only moments before was still clearly confused, still trying to fight through the fog she was no doubt experiencing, as she looked curiously at her surroundings. Myra’s resolve only seemed to strengthen as Salem questioned her actions though. 

“And how far would we have gotten before the others came? You saw how quickly the other squad fired on us, how determined they were to bring us in dead or alive. If we ran it’d only prolong the inevitable, at least this way Ester won’t end up behind bars- or worse.” 

Ester’s head snaps in the direction of Myra at the mention of her own name, however, Myra’s spell had seemingly served its purpose, as she gives her the look of a stranger, and not that of a lover. 

“I didn’t mean to get you involved,” she sighs,”I’m not going to force you to lie, and risk everything too. But please....” she pleads, the resolve in her voice breaking momentarily as she looks at Ester then back towards them. “At least make sure she doesn’t get the blame.” 

“She won’t” Jo speaks up for the first time since they uttered Salem’s name. Pushing themself up off the wall of the boat house, they step towards their partner and Myra. Before they speak again they look at Salem, We can’t let her sacrifice be for nothing, they think loud enough for them to hear. “We’ll say we caught you running in the woods, and you had Ester at wand-point. You confunded her so she wouldn’t reveal the cabin you, Rose and Faye had taken her prisoner in.” Looking towards Salem they wait for their approval. If they were going to lie they were going to have to make sure they were both on the  same page. 

    ‘Or maybe I just slept with a murderer, Jo, using the whole magizoologist thing as a cover to convince us of exactly that. It never even occurred to us to ask if he had any connection to any of the victims.’ His voice hinged on hysterics, as he spoke, audible even through the low whisper, but even he didn’t fully believe himself as he said it. Jo was right, it didn’t make any sense: his concern about the hornets, during their conversation in the boat, had seemed so sincere, and he really had been fighting hard to keep them from being destroyed. Why would he put them in harms way?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, trying to convince himself that they were right. Bondurant seemed like the type creepy enough to break in and release the hornets, and if Liu was felt responsible for their accidental release, it made sense that he would be concerned about their safe capture. Still, the rational part of him was outweighed by the panic that had set in, and he found it hard to think practically for a moment. 

     ‘No, it’s fine, you’re right. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation. We should see what connection, if any, he has to both of them, see if he seems suspicious at all. We should certainly not, under any circumstances, let him know we found that–’ He pointed to the order form. If they took it for evidence now, would Liu notice it missing from his waste bin? Would he be able to distract Liu, keep him out of the bedroom for long enough that it went unnoticed? Its mere existence seemed to indicate that he wouldn’t remember it was there in the first place, but still, it was a risk…

Jo nods their head in response to his suggestion, if they let Liu in on what they’d discovered they might not ever be able to get the truth out of him. From everything they’d seen from the man, his number one priority had been ensuring the safe capture of the hornets, and his arrest would squash all hopes of such. Looking down at the wrinkled slips of paper they go to take it before stopping their hand just above it. If they put them back in the bin where Fitz had found them it would help make sure Liu’s suspicions wouldn’t arise, then again they could lose the one piece of evidence they had should the magizoologist destroy it for good before they figure this mess out.

Looking up towards Fitz they try to get a read on his thoughts before muttering a breathless “Fuck it”, and quickly pocketing the damning evidence into their back pocket, hoping the choice wouldn’t come back to bite them later on. “Okay, so we play this cool then,” they reaffirm with a sigh, “test the waters to see if he’s close enough to either Lamore or Bondurant for them to know he had the hornets in the first place.” 

If he denied knowing either of them well, they were going to be back at square one. If given the time and opportunity they suppose they could try to sniff out some evidence of either suspects around Liu’s property, that was if he ever gave them the opportunity.... Letting out another shaky breath, they head back towards the door, opening it just a crack to see Liu’s back turned to the two of them, still cooking breakfast by the looks of it. 

“You ready?” they ask as they turn back towards Fitz. 

The path home is a familiar, well-beaten path, and her feet follow it automatically, without any thought, through the city. When she first started, she used to apparate home, the walk a little longer than she liked and her hours so limited, when she was so desperate to pack as much as she could into each day. But lately she’s found the walk a relief, a calm time to clear her mind. She thinks maybe she should mention, to Jo, that it’s not as if she lives just around the corner, but they’re talking, again, asking questions, and it feels more important to answer those than to explain.

     “It’s as wrapped up as it’ll ever be,” she says, not bothering to hide the edge of disappointment lingering behind the words. How could you ever solve a case that had no discernible answer? How could you ever feel like you’d completed something when you knew that the reality was being obscured at every turn, that the real answer had been hidden from you and anyone else who bothered to look, so thoroughly that no one would even believe you if you told them?

She wished this weekend was really going to be a chance to get away from it all, to stop thinking about it, but she doubted that would be the case. She wasn’t really sure she’d ever stop seeing Simon’s face in her dreams, or shake the paranoid feeling that she couldn’t trust anyone in MACUSA anymore, that she might end up like Abigail Potter. Or worse. 

     “So I guess that means I can decompress. At least, technically it does. Paperwork’s in and all of that. Whether or not I will decompress is another question, though I’m damn sure going to try tonight.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jo smiles faintly as they look in her direction, but they can tell for her it wasn’t all that ‘good’ in the end. If this was six months ago, back when they thought closing a case always was something to celebrate, they probably would have been confused by her solemn response. After solving a few cases of their own though, where an en ending was far from a happy one, they knew exactly what she meant. 

As they near the end of the block, they hesitate, their gaze looking out towards the entrance of McGilliguddy and back towards Beth. They didn’t want to leave her alone like this, remembering all too well how lousy they felt when their cases ended sour, even though they were sure their’s paled in comparison to the nightmare that had to be the Henshawe case. But just because they didn’t want to leave her alone, didn’t mean they knew how to ask her if she wanted to be. Her next comment gives them a chance to though- that was if they could figure out how to word the question without quite exactly verbalizing it. 

“And uh, what do you think you want to do?” they ask, and start to chew on their bottom lip as they look back towards her, “Tonight I mean.” They’re not quite sure if she caught on to what they were really asking her, which in this case was if she wanted them involved in any of her plans for that night, but they figured they’d get their answer regardless if she did or not. 

Her hand on their shoulder makes them feel like they’re back at Ilvermorny again, the gentle and comforting presence. Their mind is too full of all the memories, of the conflicting feelings of what the past was, and the present, to fully take to heart what she means. Snow’s smart, though, he was using them, knowing they’d be the right people for the job because of their inexperience, their youth. That only makes them feel worse, knowing, in a way, that the moment they had been given the case, it had been all but over for someone they had once cared about deeply, one of the first people who had shown them that she cared.

They’re nearly to the cabin door, when they Jo looks around, tries to warn them, and there’s suddenly a flurry of curses being shot towards them from the trees, any chance at it being a clean finish is lost in an instant. There’s no time to even be surprised as the door opens to reveal Ester, alive and well and ushering them inside.

No time to think, no chance to put thoughts into words, they follow her lead, like she’s their professor again, not an escaped convict they’re meant to be bringing back into justice. Before they can make it further into the cabin, before either of them can follow Ester’s lead, Rose and Faye appear on the stairs, and their heart all but sinks, looking at them, seeing the fight in their eyes.

The decision is seemingly made in a grave instant, as the wandfire still sounds outside, shaking the cabin, as it becomes stronger against the cabin’s defenses.

Jo looks at them, and they stare back, wide-eyed, thoughts moving too fast. The decision has to be made, only they’re not sure what they should do. They trust their old professor still, despite everything, and they can tell from her words that she’s certain of her own choice. There’s something there, the acknowledgement that if they don’t go with Jo and them, that things might not end so well. And they can see, looking at the other two witches, that they’d take that risk rather than going back peacefully. But leaving Rose and Faye behind means failing, worse leaving Rose and Faye behind could mean their deaths, the other squads seemingly not looking to try to bring them in alive. Can they let the deaths of two people lie on their conscious? 

“If you come with us, you’ll be safe. They don’t care about keeping you alive,” Salem pleads, voice coming out a little more desperate than they mean it to, but it’s all so much, and there’s no time to stand around talking.

“And we don’t care for being prisoners again. If you want to bring us in, you’re going to have to fight us, just like them,” Rose says, holding her wand up, pointing it at Salem.

They look at her for a second. It’s clear, in their mind, that there’s no way they could win that battle, especially not with the other squads just outside the door, and to stay would mean risking the two lives they know they can save by leaving now. Even before Salem says anything, she seems to know what they’ve decided, and she reaches over and takes Faye’s hand briefly, before turning their attention to the door. Salem looks back at Jo, then at Myra and Ester.

“If we want to make it out, we have to go now.”

Jo looks on helplessly as Salem tries to convince the other two witches to come with them. No matter their partner’s plea though, it still appears that only two of the escapees will be leaving with them that afternoon as they watch the other two grab onto the other’s hand. If Salem was wanting to try to fight them into coming with them, then Jo was too, but deep down they knew that this was the best- and probably the only possible outcome if they wanted to get out of that cabin unharmed by the other squad. 

As Ester tugs their hand to follow her, Jo takes one last look behind them towards Rose and Faye, tearing welling up in their eyes as they watch the two women throw open the door, and rush out of it wands blazing together. 

With Rose and Faye out front fighting off the incoming squad, Myra and Ester rush towards the back of the cabin, ducking through a small kitchen and through a door that opened up onto the back porch. Myra is the first to pop her head out, holding her hand back to warn the other three to stay back until she assures the coast is clear. 

“I think we’re alright,” she nods, and motions the three to follow her out, as she begins running towards a small boat house that sat down a small hill against the lake’s shore. Ester holds up the rear as they make their way down, making sure should any spells come their way, she’d be the first in line to deflect them. Whatever Rose and Faye were doing out front though seems to serve as a good distraction though, as Myra makes it to the boat house without any trouble, opening its door with a quick flick of her wand, and holds it for the others to come in behind her. 

When they’re finally out of harm’s way, Jo doubles over, trying to catch their breath, and regain some composure after the chaos that ensued ever since the other squad’s arrival- an arrival they still were confused about given the fact only them and Salem knew of the cabin’s location. Looking over to Salem they nearly ask them their thoughts until they catch Myra walking over to Ester, tears streaming down her face, due to what Jo can only assume is the realization that the end of their journey together was about to end. . 

“Everything will be okay, we’ll get through this together,” Ester assures her, wrapping her arms around the other witch as she pulls her in. “I’ll tell them everything, they’ll know I came with you willingly, don’t worry.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Myra nods, her hands shaking as she brings one up to cup the side of Ester’s face. “And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Before Ester can react Myra pulls her in for a kiss, as her free hand moves to point her wand at her. “I love you,” she whispers against the woman’s lips, before flicking her wrist in a casting motion and uttering her intended spell. 

“Obliviate” 

For the second time that afternoon Jo looks on helplessly, feeling very much like the rookie they were. “S-salem?” they stutter out, looking towards them then back at Myra who was now stepping away from a clearly confused Ester. 

He stares at them for a few silent seconds after their laughter. It was no surprise that they took it all as one big joke, he doubted that there was one holy bone in their body, and not just because of their unfortunate curse. There was a reason, after all, for everything that happened, the good and the evil, and he had long learned that there were some evils not even a holy hand could protect from. Finally, he makes the sign of the cross again, and says a definite, “Amen.”

Looking back up at them, he has to wonder how it must be to live with such utter darkness weighing on the mind at every moment. To be so unable to see the grace of God, to be infected with the curse of a beast. In a way, he nearly feels sorry for them, or he would if they weren’t so utterly intent on trying to push his every button at every opportunity.

“Somethin’ like that’d give you a real tickle, wouldn’t it?” he asks, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. “No, sadly, we’re gonna talk to them. Not even I can cure curses like that with prayer, after all. There’s a reason God allows unholy creatures to exist as they do; without evil and temptation, we’d have no chance for goodness and salvation. All I can do is protect myself and my brother from the hands of evil.”

“Oh is that why, I got bit?” they ask with a chuckle, this time though there is a bit of bite behind their bark. They could take the whole hound from hell talk just fine, that sort of thing they’d grown used to ages ago, but it was the bullshit rationale they could never swallow down. If there really was a god such as his, one who stripped a fifteen year old of nearly everything they held dear, all to simply to serve as a cautionary tale for others- well then, that god could just go fuck himself. 

“Well you better watch yourself out there then, preach. Vampires can be mighty convincing when they want to be, before you know it you might actually like ‘em if you aren’t too careful.” Ha, that’d be something, although entirely uncharacteristic of the wizard. More than likely he’ll probably find a way to make the situation worse than better, but it wasn’t their place to tell the chief that. It didn’t matter if they’d just fought off a fiendfyre dragon, they were still fairly low in the pecking order to be giving any advice on things like that. 

Thinking they’d probably ruffled enough feathers for one afternoon, they slap both hands down on the tops of their legs before standing up. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your brooding session, should you need any advice on handling the unholy and damned creatures of the world, you know where to find me.” 

Jo’s hand on hers nearly makes her jump, at first, unexpected, and she’s already a little jumpy from a week of little sleep, her nerves frayed by exhaustion and by the paranoia instilled by Hattori’s admission, by the realization that there were people working within MACUSA who were desperate enough to fulfill their agendas that they were willing to kill innocent people for it… but she lets out a slow, shaky breath and calms, as Jo starts to speak, easing back into the conversation, into the contact. She stalls, as the elevator doors open, like she’s forgotten where she’s supposed to be going, but again Jo’s voice pulls her back to the present, grounds her in a way that makes it easier to take a few steps out into the lobby.

She’s not usually the kind of person who finds peace in other people. She’s not usually the type to seek out company, when she’s upset, or stressed out. For most of her life, she’s preferred being alone. But just now, the idea of not having to walk home alone sounds…. nice. Of maybe having someone to talk to about all of the crazy stuff she’s been dealing with – or even someone to distract her from it…

     “That would be… really nice, actually.”

“Really?” they smile, perhaps a bit too widely at first, given the sensitivity of the moment. Reminding themself this was far from the time to fall into their usual giddy self around the other auror, they shake their head, before trying out their reply once again. “I mean, yeah, I think so too.” Stepping out of the elevator they stay close to her side as they cut through the crowded main lobby of headquarters before exiting out into the just as busy New York streets. 

When they feel they are out of the prying ears of those who they knew and worked beside they speak up again, “So then are you all wrapped up with the Henshawe case? You don’t have to like tell me anything about it,” they add, realizing the question could be mistaken for them fishing for information about the case rather than just her,  “I just didn’t know if you’re still dealing with it, or finally have the chance to decompress after all that." 

He spends a moment, as he waits for Jo, putting the torn halves together along the tear and the pulling them apart again, like doing one or the other will reveal that there’s a mistake, that the form doesn’t actually say what he thinks it says. But, of course, nothing changes. 

It’s sloppy, he thinks, is the worst part of it. Unless someone is framing Liu with this, and badly, it just seems so careless, knowing that you’ll be inviting aurors into your home, to not destroy the evidence more thoroughly. That’s almost enough to convince him that it’s a frame job, that Liu’s just an innocent pawn. But he thinks back to what Jo had said, about Bondurant not being able to work alone, needing someone to assist that was smart enough to know how to handle the hornets without getting themself stung… and the picture of Liu and Bondurant working together starts to clarify in his head. It makes sense, except that he doesn’t know enough about Liu to know why Liu would do it. 

 When Jo slips into the room, he’s already speechless again, and so instead of answering their question, he wordlessly hands them the two halves of the form, takes a moment of them looking at it to find his voice again. 

     ‘Please, tell me this isn’t what I think it is,’ he croaks, his face going pale just at the prospect of having to say it out loud. 

They fall silent as he hands them the two small halves of paper, the two fateful words scribbled across each half. They don’t say anything at first, they can barely even think straight let alone voice anything that’d be of any help at the moment. They’re not sure how long they stare at the two slips of paper, hoping if maybe they read them just one more time they could come up with a reasonable explanation. No matter how many times they do though, the outcome always ends up the same. 

“But I don’t get it,” they shake their head, “he’s a magizoologist, he clearly is concerned for their safety, why let them loose only to end up having to fight tooth and nail just to get them back again?” No matter their feelings towards Liu, it truly didn’t make sense to them from a magizoologist’s point of view, the hornets were invasive they didn’t belong in the swamps of Florida, where not only they’d kill off the locals, but the native animals- native animals Liu had spent his life’s work studying and protecting. 

“Maybe he did buy them, well obviously he bought them,” they sigh, as they place the slips of paper down on the dresser nearby, “but I don’t think he released them. We know he’s wanting to send them to some reserve, maybe that was always his plan? To buy them off the black market, save them from that fate, then to ship them elsewhere?” They weren’t sure if what they were saying made any sense at all, or seemed like they were just grasping at straws, but they sure as hell hoped they were right. 

“Maybe Bondurant got wind that he had them and released them? Or Ms. Lamore after she heard her husband knocked up another woman?”, there was really only way to find out, they knew that, but that didn’t make the thought any easier. “We’re going to have to ask him, he must have some idea what happened to them after they left his care.” 

Their heart is racing, as she turns around to face them, but something calms a little when they see her soft smile, the look of recognition in her eyes. For a second, it feels like their a child again, terrified and out of place at school, coming into her classroom one afternoon seeking some kind of comfort in a place that feels so foreign, a place they should feel at home in. One of the first professors to truly help them start to feel like this was their world. And here they are now, using the kindness she showed them to seal her fate. It made them feel sick to their stomach.

The moment of pleasant, but slightly confused recognition is over almost immediately, though, as she realizes why they’re here, and their first instinct is to apologize, habits dying hard. They don’t, though, because that’s only a reminder of why they’re here, of what she’s done, worse, what the others have done.

“I didn’t want to leave Maine…” they say, despite themself, as if maybe that’ll push some of the blame about what comes next off of their shoulders. But they’re here, and it doesn’t. “No, uh, just one other. Jo?”

Salem glances back and nods, signaling for Jo that it’s okay to come forward. At least they hope they’re right. It’s a delicate game, and one they’ve never played before. This is the easy part. They can’t even think ahead to what’s going to happen when the others come out.

“I, um…I really wish this wasn’t how we were meeting again…but… at least it’s us, it’s me. The other squads, they’re…we’ll just bring you all back in quietly,” they explain, although, it’s a pointless explanation, more just something to fill the silence, not knowing where to go next. “Are the others inside?”

Jo can see the worry flash over the witch’s features as Salem calls them out from behind their hiding spot. Whatever auror Myra was expecting to pop out from behind the large boulder Jo had been squatting behind though, it definitely wasn’t them, as almost immediately she relaxes again. “Well I do have to say this,” she sighs as she looks between the two young aurors, a sad smile crossing her face, “your boss sure knew what he was doing when he picked you too.” It takes Jo a minute to realize just what she meant by that until they feel her hand on their shoulder, not firm or demanding, but rather gentle, as she guides them towards the door. 

“They’re inside, they won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise Rose and Faye will come with you-” 

It’s just as she says this when Jo freezes, as they hear the faint snap of twigs off into the distance. Twisting their head around they study the treeline frantically, trying their best to spot out the source of the sound, and the new smells reaching their nose. “Guys...” they begin, but before they can finish their warning the cracking sound of wandfire begins popping through the air, as a flurry of colored sparks shoot in their direction. 

Myra’s hold on their shoulder tightens as she begins rushing them to the cabin, “Get inside now, quickly!” Whoever the other squad was seemed to pay no mind to the other two aurors as they continue to fire spell after spell in all three of their directions. As they rush up the steps to the cabin the door flies open, revealing (as expected) a very much alive and well Ester White. 

“Ester, help me take them into the back!" Myra shouts over the wandfire, pushing Jo and Salem the last few steps into the doorway, and quickly slamming the door shut behind all three of them. The confusion on Ester’s face is clear as she looks between the two young aurors and her lover, but complies regardless as she holds out her hand for Jo to take. Just as they reach out to her though, the sound of footsteps thunder down a set of stairs across the room, as Rose and Faye rush into the main living area, wands at the ready. 

Just as Ester had done, the two witches freeze as their eyes lay on the two young aurors. 

“You two do whatever you need to do,” Myra speaks up, her voice shaking with the weight of the decision she was now making, “but Ester and I are leaving with these two.” There is a silent conversation that then goes on between all four witches as they look from one to another, all quietly agreeing to the fate they each were choosing for themselves. 

Still shaken by the sudden emergence of the other squad Jo looks over towards Salem, unsure just what they should do. They didn’t think Myra was leading them into a trap, but could they just leave Rose and Faye behind with the other squad who so clearly had little interest in bringing all four in alive? 

     “Winter told me the whole story,” she answers, Jo’s enthusiasm about their own heroics bringing a smile to the corner of her lips. Jo had made a difference, at the Gala, had done exactly what needed to be done, had probably saved a lot of lives in the process. Beth, on the other hand, feels like she barely did anything, other than show up too late to save Henshawe’s life – or Simon’s. 

The thought makes her sick to her stomach, as she steps into the elevator, Jo at her side, and the bitter taste in her mouth colors her next reply.

     “I’m okay,” she answers, an instinctive response, the same thing she’d have said to anyone who asked her this week, the easiest possible answer, but it isn’t true, and it only takes one second at the look on Jo’s face – genuinely concerned, not just fishing for information or asking out of obligation – to feel a little bit like she owes them the truth. “Actually, I’m… not, really, but…”

She swallows, holding her coat a little closer to her chest as the elevator descends. She’s not entirely sure how she’s doing, other than not sleeping very well, and pushing herself even harder than usual to make up for it. She’s seen… horrible things, in her time as an auror, things she knew she’d never really get over. That had been her job: to deal with the terrifying things in a way that ensured they wouldn’t keep happening out of sight. But, still, it had been years since anything she’d witnessed had had this much of an effect on her, had escaped her ability to compartmentalize so thoroughly.

     “What can you do?” she continued, with a shrug. “Bad shit happens, and then we do what we can to make it right.”

They still for a moment as she speaks, feeling it important to as they look over to her. Their gut was telling them she hadn’t really talked to anyone else yet about what’d she’d been going through in the last week, they could probably spend the rest of the night wondering why she’d chosen them to open up to, but that didn’t quite feel as important now, not when she so clearly needed their full attention. 

Unsure what to say at first, they pick up their hand where it had been resting against the bar that curved around the elevator, and placed it over top her’s where it sat. They didn’t know what it was like to have someone die like that infront of them- like the way Simon did, or Henshawe for that matter. But they did know about grief, and the gripping way the guilt of such a violent death could take hold of you if you let it. 

“I’m sorry,” they finally reply, their usually loud and boisterous tone reduced to that of barely above a whisper, “I’m glad you’re the one out there trying to make it right though.” They nod, and go to speak again, before they’re interrupted by the loud ding of the elevator as it opens up to the headquarter’s bustling ground floor. In any other circumstance, this would have been the time when they bid their goodbyes, and wished her a nice weekend before going off to start their’s. Instead though, they remain frozen in the elevator, not quite wanting to leave it or her in turn. They’re going to need to leave the former some time, the elevator ding’s already increasing as it waits for its occupants to leave it, but maybe leaving the elevator didn’t have to mean leaving her.

“Um, do you want to walk home together?” they ask, despite the fact they had no clue if her home was even in remotely the same direction as their’s. “I don’t mind.” 

Liu is up first, in the morning, already in the kitchen making coffee by the time Fitz manages to roll over and pull himself out of bed. A very comfortable bed, despite the sticky Florida heat, only exacerbated by another warm body next to him. He can hear Jo up, too, out in the kitchen and talking to Liu, that kind of youthful morning energy that Fitz hasn’t been able to summon in a long, long time. 

He’d stay here all day, if he could, lounging in the aftermath of a good evening and an even better night, but there’s an investigation to continue, he knows, and he could use a shower, slick with sweat already, the way you can only be in this close proximity to a swamp, and so he rolls out of bed and grabs his robe from the bag he’d thankfully not bothered to put away in the guest room yesterday. 

First, he thinks: tea, there’s got to be tea in this house somewhere. Tea, then shower, then back to the investigation. Jo had been right about Bondurant not being smart enough to operate alone without getting himself killed, so they’ll need to look for an accomplice, someone else involved who might be. He takes a tissue from the box on the bedside table, to wipe the sweat from his face, make himself presentable, drops it in the bin on his way out the door–

And stops, dead in his tracks, spotting a folded piece of paper, torn in half, atop the bin. An order form of some sort from the looks of it, and he has a bad feeling about what’s written on it. He picks it up, delicately, as if it were a volatile potion about to explode, and has to close his eyes for a moment before he reads what’s written on it.

     Widowmaker Hornets.

     ‘Er, Jo?’ he calls, but his voice comes out weak, faltering with the surprise of it all. It’s too early in the morning for this. He clears his throat, tries again. ‘Jo, I need, ah– something from your bag. Could you come here?’

When they wake up the next morning, to a room that is as empty as when they first walked into it the night before, they can’t stop the wide grin that sweeps across their face. They knew they were going to get the two men together somehow during the week, but never did they think they’d manage it the first night. Rolling out of the small cot Liu had set up for them, they change into a fresh pair of clothes before heading back towards the kitchen, where they are immediately met with Liu, the coffee pot brewing quietly in the corner as he gathers the needed ingredients for breakfast. They could really get used to this, they think to themself as they plop down into a chair at the kitchen table, living out in the swamps, going off on adventures only to come home to homemade meals by some dashing magizoologist. It was a good thing Liu was a dude, or they’d probably never leave. 

With Fitz still asleep, the talk between the two of them quickly veers in to both of their interested fields of study. For once though, it’s not Jo asking the questions, but rather Liu, curious to know more about the affliction that was still so largely unstudied in their field. 

“So then even when not transformed, you still hold some of the wolf’s natural instincts? Do you find they fluctuate depending on the lunar cycle as well?” 

“Um, yeah for the most part”, they nod, before taking a sip of the steaming cup of coffee in their hands, “Like in the week leading up to a transformation, my appetite increases to that typical of an animal that size. And I have more pent up energy as a result. Then right after a transformation I usually just sleep for the next couple days, I’m so wiped out.”

“Fascinating, and so-” Liu begins, but is cut off by the sound of Fitz’s voice as he call out from his bedroom. The two look at each other for a moment over the table, both clearly trying to figure out just what was going on. “Is he alright?” He finally asks, and nearly goes to stand up to check himself. Normally Jo would have let him, but something tells them, that whatever Fitz needed, it was for their ears only. 

“No, no, it’s alright.” they motion for him to stay as they get up, “he probably just like, forgot his hairbrush or something, and is too shy to come out”, they laugh with a roll of their eyes, trying to sell the lie more. Popping their head back into the spare room, they grab their bag before heading towards Liu’s room. 

“Hey, what’s up babe?” they ask as they slip into the room, shutting the door behind them when they take a look at Fitz’s distressed state. They were going to make some joke about him needing more anti-hornet salve/lube, but the look on his face tells them now was far from the time for it. “Is everything alright?” 

He stares up at them as they sit down at the empty desk beside him, feeling the holy fury rise in his chest at their words, the obscene teasing that was meant to get a rise out of him. They always seemed to know just the right buttons to push, but he’s never been one to admit defeat in the face of the unholy with something so simple. And so he takes a slow drag of his cigarette, all while keeping his eyes on them, and makes the sign of the cross, then brings his hands together palm to palm, despite the stinging as the bandage presses against the wound beneath it, cigarette burning slowly between two fingers.

“Holy Father,” Camden begins, bowing his head dramatically, voice taking on a gravely serious tone, “Please forgive Johanna Molina for their vulgarity and help them see that all creatures, human, inhuman, and everything between, no matter their status, deserve respect and dignity, as they are created in Your image. Even themself. Guide this creature and all creatures to Your light, and steer them on the righteous path to salvation, just as you did me.”

He pauses, and looks up again at them.

“Anything else you’d like me to add on your behalf?”

They about fall out of the chair they’d been leaning back in the moment he makes the sign of the cross, and then even better, actually starts to pray. They’d been expecting him to chew them out over their crude words, but this, this was far better. Looking at him incredulously for a moment as he drones on, they cast a quick look around the nearby desks, looking to see if any of their coworkers had been enjoying the show as much as they had. Unfortunately today had been one of the more quiet days in the office, and what familiar faces they could see were all too busy in their own work to notice the scene. 

When he looks at them, they let out a breathless laugh. “No, not unless he’s got the results of next week’s quadpot matches.” They almost point out the clear hypocrisy of his quickly spoken prayer, that if either of them should be accused of treating another without respect or dignity, it would be him. That was an argument they didn’t quite feel up to getting into today though, instead they return their gaze down to the file before him, placed under the bandaged hand whose wounds they could sniff out even from where they sat. 

“Is that the same approach you plan on taking with the vampires then? Try to pray the bloodthirst away, and hope they don’t immediately kill you on the spot?”