tell me this, does any of this love exist?

@mcrdices

       “he didn’t know.” cassie murmurs, hands fidgeting uneasily in her lap. she had been sure, she had believed that lukas would have the answer. that she could have fixed them. but she’d failed. “i’m sorry, ben.” emerald irises flicker over his before drawing away, warmth flushing her cheeks. “i won’t stop looking. i will figure it out i just…it’s going to take time.”

he reaches for her hands, cupping them in his so that she’ll stop fidgeting. “it’s okay. i talked to a couple warlocks about getting your memories back, but…” ben draws his thumbs over her knuckles, back and forth in soothing repetition. without knowing exactly what sort of magic was used on her in the first place, it’s apparently difficult and even dangerous to try restoring cassie’s memories. ben was interrupted before he could explain as much, a persistent banging noise on the bar’s front door drawing his attention away from the shadowhunter. “we’re closed!” he shouted, but the din only seemed to get louder.

        she has never heard - or at least, she doesn’t think she has - of a person describing colors as having feelings. but there is nothing remotely ordinary about the man sat before her. despite youthful features his voice holds the cadence of one much older; as if history itself was formed on his lips. and for the first time in a while, cassie finds herself at ease in the presence of a stranger - for this one does not carry memories she cannot reach but instead provides new paths to doors she has yet to open. 

    she frowns, rose blush lips pursing at the question. the colors, she thinks, or perhaps the way her voice sharpened around the word have given her away. perhaps she ought not to convey so much to someone she doesn’t know but cernunnos doesn’t strike her as one to gossip. “no…i suppose not.” she says finally, having mulled over how honest to be with him. “though i haven’t yet had a better explanation.” a finger taps lightly at the back of her head where the old wound once was. “i was knocked out-” she says quietly, lowering her voice lest they be overheard. “and when i woke up, i had no memory of my life before then. it’s as though my memories are there but i can’t quite grasp them. i have feelings of familiarity, anger, happiness-” love, she almost says but catches herself. “but i don’t remember any of my past.” she withdraws her hand to join them on the table. “the silent brothers have healed me but they can’t retrieve my memories. they don’t know what is blocking them.”

perhaps it’s the father in him that prompted him reach into his pocket and pull out a simple seeming acorn. listening to her explain, the warlock couldn’t help feel defensive- there was something so questionable about the story behind her so called accident- and his thumb smoothed over the acorn with the barest touch of soft green wisps of light. 

infusing the acorn with protective magic.

“ i’m sure clearer answers will come one day, eventually. memories are a funny thing- people think they have control over what they can recall and what they cannot ” cernunnos gave her a rueful smile. “ we can blame ourselves for forgetting things but really it’s out of our control. when it’s time for you to know you will because certain memories and experiences refuse to be kept buried: no amount of magic can change that ”

he offered the acorn to her.

“ the silent brothers are a powerful group and it can often feel like they’re all capable- that they can solve everything and if they can’t, that means there is no hope. just because they don’t know what’s causing this doesn’t mean you should be frightened or worried- you could ask a million scholars what an ancient artefact’s purpose is and they might never decipher it, and then one day a little child could come by and just stumble across the answer… power and knowledge is not equal to how achievable the solution is nor how likely it is that there is a solution ” 

the old man gave her a bright smile, somewhere between reassuring and sad. sad for his own mess of memories and the ache of knowing someone so young was experiencing the same confusion he had suffered with for centuries.

“ that acorn isn’t much, but it always helped my children to sleep at night when they were frightened about something ” he looked bashful for a moment. “ you don’t have to keep it, but i thought it might ease your mind a little” 

she doesn't know if she's ever seen anyone perform it before. but it feels familiar, doesn't frighten her. instead she marvels in the delicate green wisps that expel from his fingers, layering the simple acorn in something more. she extends a hand slowly, accepting the offered trinket. it's far from an ordinary gift. "thank you." she says softly, rolling it in her palm. whether it's in her head or really from the power imbibed within it - she feels safer holding it in her grasp.

"of course i'll keep it." she says hurriedly, almost reluctantly slipping it into her pocket. she can still feel it; pressing into her waist through the leather gear. a small reassurance that someone is watching out for her. "how is it that you know so much about losing memories ??" she cants her head, curiosity piqued. the warlock's words speak volumes, they sound as if he has experienced the problem personally.

            the text she’d sent had been simple; clear. need to talk, meet at greene’s. neutral territory. the hunter’s moon would not be safe for him at a time like this. she was barely being let through the door - only under ben’s furious glare did the wolves cease staring at her. but greene’s was warlock run; they hadn’t made their allegiances clear yet. so she waits, nerves twisting her stomach into knots, and hopes that eventually lukas will show up. papers and journals cover the table top in front of her, all the evidence she has gathered from her old work. if nothing else, perhaps this will be further proof to sway him.

        for the briefest moments she thinks she’s done the wrong thing. that she’s crossed a line. it’s not something they’ve really discussed, whatever she meant to ben before. whatever their relationship was. but from the dizziness and warmth that flushes her as she rests her head against his shoulder and catches the smell of him, of earth and car grease and just a hint of the moonshine on his breath, she knows it was something. and then his arms finally respond and she practically breathes a sigh of relief. they envelop her, holding her closer, and she thinks that for just a second it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t remember. it feels right anyway.

      but reality dawns, his words needing a response. now was not the time to lose herself in thoughts of what might have been. he needed her help. “i don’t imagine you’ll like it.” she says frankly, drawing her head back to look up at him. it’s the closest she’s ever been ( that she’s aware of ) and she can see flecks of gold in his eyes that she’s never noticed before. “um-” she clears her throat but doesn’t move to release the arms that curve around his neck. “lukas. lukas wildthorn. he might be able to get us the information we need to figure out how to fix you.”

is it weird, wonders ben, for him to still feel so close to cassie even though their bond is long gone and her memories are obscured into oblivion? she reels him back from the brink so easily, like his damn stubbornness isn’t even an obstacle. what would he do without her? before he even realizes what he’s doing, ben silently hopes that he never has to find out. “hm?” his brows pull together as she draws her head back. lukas wildthorn…ben doesn’t recognize the name, which tends to mean only one thing.

“okay.” he’s acknowledging her words rather than actually agreeing with them, apprehensive as ever when shadowhunters are involved — who aren’t her, anyway. “you trust him?” she probably shouldn’t and ben sure as fuck doesn’t, but if there’s even a chance that cassie is right and this other shadowhunter can help, then he supposes it’s better than just sitting around, waiting and hoping that his abilities will return. a crease of apprehension pulls at his brow nonetheless as he burrows close to her again, nuzzling his face against the perfect curve of her neck.

       rosy lips press into a thin, grim line as she mulls over her response. "no." she shakes her head, golden waves falling loose around her face. "not entirely." she gets the sense that if ben knew why, he would abandon the plan completely. "but he wants to make amends. maybe he can make a start with this...he's leo's son." if anyone could get the answers they needed it was him; even if it meant appealing to whatever good nature lukas delusionally believes leo has. a sigh leaves her as ben buries his face into her neck; a strange mixture of contentment and worry. fingers weave absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck; mussing through the knots. "it was him that did this to me." she says quietly, low enough she's not even sure he'll hear. "we'll fix you and we'll fix me."

       at least he relinquishes the bottle - even if it comes with some small semblance of an argument. heavy lids lower, eyes dropping to a blank patch on the floor as he launches himself up to standing again. it shouldn’t upset her, the way he flies away from her, growling and stalking like an animal - but it does. mostly in the way his words wrap around her heart. if she wasn’t calm and logical, if she didn’t try and focus on understanding then she would fall apart completely. and she couldn’t do that. they couldn’t do that - not now. “I’m not asking you to be me-” she says quietly. “I’m asking you to take care of yourself.”

     he doesn’t seem to hear her, doesn’t seem to be able to think beyond what is happening to him. he’s spiralling. and she doesn’t know how to help; because she doesn’t know him. his quirks, his ticks, how to calm him, how to make him smile - she doesn’t know any of those things. she just knows this ache in the pit of her stomach at seeing him unravel. pushing herself up from the couch, she abandons the bottle on the coffee table. wordlessly, cassie steps in his path. “stop-” she says firmly, voice even. shaking arms wrap around his neck and she rests her chin on his shoulder, slender frame flush against him. “just breathe, ben.”

take care of yourself. ben snorts at the idea. not once in his life has he ever been allowed to do anything else. he’s never had anyone to look out for him, to ensure that he was safe and breathing. cassie used to know that, but now uncertainly clouds her gaze as it follows him around the room. he’s not surprised when she suddenly lurches into his path, but her gentle plea gives him pause as her arms coil around his neck. at first he freezes because this never really happens. it’s more than a brush of her fingers over his arm or moving soft golden waves away from her face.

“you know how to fix this?” he exhales thunderously, takes in a huge bout of air. how is it that she’s always right, even when a major lapse in memory is working against her? “guess i shouldn’t be surprised.” finally ben gathered cassie in his arms. he wondered if she still carried that familiar scent, the mixture of something soft with something old and dusty, like the books nobody ever bothers to pluck off the shelf until she comes along. it’d be nice if he could tell. cassie’s scent is one of the most familiar to him and so it would be comforting to find. 

      but reality dawns, his words needing a response. now was not the time to lose herself in thoughts of what might have been. he needed her help. "i don't imagine you'll like it." she says frankly, drawing her head back to look up at him. it's the closest she's ever been ( that she's aware of ) and she can see flecks of gold in his eyes that she's never noticed before. "um-" she clears her throat but doesn't move to release the arms that curve around his neck. "lukas. lukas wildthorn. he might be able to get us the information we need to figure out how to fix you."

        she can’t quite bring herself to look at him. hands reach for her head, knotting through golden locks. the room carries so much weight she can scarcely breathe; it’s just shelves of books and a piano. that’s all it is. but she knows it isn’t; she knows from the way her heart thunders in her chest and from the way his words crash around her. “how am I supposed to forgive you ??“ she whispers, emerald eyes glassy. "nothing in this world makes sense. none of the obligation, the orders, the laws that you all seem to cling to. the facts are the facts - you followed orders and my brother is dead. my brother who I can’t remember, who I might never remember is dead.” hands slip from her hair down to hug at her waist. “how can this make me want to forgive you for that ??” because it does. whatever power this place holds for the girl she was, it makes her want to let go.

lukas wanted to speak, wanted to tell her no, she wasn’t supposed to forgive him, that he knew he didn’t deserve to be forgiven but he didn’t have the time, words stuck to his throat while cassie kept on talking. it was the second time that the blond found himself thinking that they were in another situation and he’d hear her speak like that he would have laughed, she was the more rational one between the two of them, always have been. but he couldn’t then, her words weightening on him. as he looked at her, he wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort but he just couldn’t. “i don’t know. i’m not doing this to gain your forgiveness because i’ll understand if you’ll never forgive me. i did the unspeakable. but…i guess, i just wanted you to see with your own eyes that this friendship was one of my most cherished.”

        she ignores the disgruntled look that crosses his features on being manhandled; she has no time for his pride. at this moment he is not the capable, gruff alpha she has grown accustomed to. he is simply a man in need of someone’s help and, out of anyone, she has a strange certainty that he will accept it from her.

      following minimal objections, the wolf slumps down onto the sofa and after a moment of deliberation she follows, perching beside him. it’s clear that even admitting aloud what troubles him is a wound in itself - that without his capacity to shift, he isn’t strong, he isn’t in control, he isn’t himself. she knows, in a different sort of way, how that feels. how it is to wake up and not know who you are. “blocked-” she repeats, mossy irises locking onto his earthen ones. “like it’s lying under the surface but you can’t quite reach it ??” another way her theory about leonard wallace is confirmed. whatever was weaving its way over ben sounded remarkably similar to the spell holding her memories captive. though that knowledge was likely to be of little comfort to him as it still brought them no closer to a solution. but there was one person who had a way in, who could ask the questions they needed answering without drawing suspicion…one person she might be able to trust. who wanted to earn her forgiveness.

     “we’ll fix this.” she nods firmly, gentle hand pulling the bottle carefully from his grasp. he needed to have his wits about him. “but you need to rest. if you’re not healing properly you need to treat your body like it’s mundane. you need to help it heal.” pushing up from her seat, she takes the bottle with her. “self-medicating doesn’t count.”

“like i’m underwater,” ben pulls a face upon realizing just how shitty the comparison sounds, but he’s at a loss. with august unable to help him and outright denial a play that’s quickly losing its effectiveness, ben knows that something’s gotta give. “that’s expensive,” he complains tepidly as cassie pries the bottle of moonshine from his hands. part of him understands and even agrees with her reasoning, but mostly? “i’m not you, okay?” he’s frustrated, hurting, growling quietly as he suddenly lurches off of the sofa — around cassie — and launches into a nervous pace. “i can’t just be fucking calm and logical about whatever the fuck is happening to me.” 

we’ll fix this, she said, but he couldn’t hear it. not really. “i’ve been like this since i was five. i don’t know how to be anything else. i’m not even a very good mechanic, for fuck’s sake. we’re supposed to fix cars, but last new year’s eve i keyed the fuck out of that bougie shadowhunter prick’s stupid ‘67 impala and i fucking enjoyed it. shit.” he’s panicking. for the first time since it happened, his heartbeat is thundering away much too quickly and without a bottle to hold he can’t keep his hands busy enough. they fidget nervously at his sides, opening and closing and gesturing emphatically as he continues to pace. whatever it was cassie had said about resting clearly hadn’t landed.

     he doesn't seem to hear her, doesn't seem to be able to think beyond what is happening to him. he's spiralling. and she doesn't know how to help; because she doesn't know him. his quirks, his ticks, how to calm him, how to make him smile - she doesn't know any of those things. she just knows this ache in the pit of her stomach at seeing him unravel. pushing herself up from the couch, she abandons the bottle on the coffee table. wordlessly, cassie steps in his path. "stop-" she says firmly, voice even. shaking arms wrap around his neck and she rests her chin on his shoulder, slender frame flush against him. "just breathe, ben."