Who Am I?

She’d just never expected them to be the ones she had now. Fighting Death Eaters, covering minor and major crimes at work, keeping in touch with her family, protecting them and her friends, and somehow through all of it avoid falling in utter depression and alcoholism or things, you know, get killed. The sum of all those things still sounded quite banal inside her head, all in all just a list of things. The implications behind them were way much more than the ones she could sum up in the act.

“Yeah, I don’t know why so many children are fascinated by this growing up stuff. McGonagall’s essays seem little compared to this, doesn’t it?” she sighed, leaning back against the chair and taking of her jacket. Her eyes rarely left Gavin, ready to jump to his aid if she detected so much as a hint of what she’d witnessed back in his apartment. Protectiveness was a natural when it came to Marlene, being the third of 13 brothers and sisters. It was a protective instinct that extended not only to her family members but to her friends in general. She knew perfectly well (far too well, unfortunately) what it was to live in emotional and psychological pain, and she’d go all the way to keep those she cared about to experience it. Her hand was ready to reach out and take Gavin’s if he showed any signs of breaking down again.

“Yes I am!” she chipped cheerfully, happy to jump into that topic. She couldn’t imagine that Gavin probably didn’t feel comfortable talking about himself at the moment, and what most mattered to Marlene right now was making him feel comfortable again. On a completely different aspect, it wasn’t like she did not enjoy the sound of her own voice either “I get to arrest people now. It’s pretty cool, especially when they don’t expect it. The expression of those who think they’ve gotten away with their crimes and suddenly have a horde of hit wizards flooding their house is priceless” she mimicked her words. throwing her hands up in surrender, eyes as wide as a house elf’s and mouth opened in a frozen frown of surprise and fear “It’s like seeing a rabbit under a the light of a car” she giggled.

The waiter returned surprisingly soon with their orders, setting them on the table along with a glass of soda water. After insisting that they called him should they need anything else, he departed to tend to other tables.

Marlene immediately smiled at the sight of that spongy brownie fresh out of the oven, the heat it irradiated melting the ice cream topping to creamy rivulets that pulled around the cake.

Her entire being seemed to light up as she chatted animatedly at him. There was no doubting she enjoyed her job. Envy tried to rear its ugly head, but Gavin ignored it, focusing on the excitement in Marlene’s tone. What was it like to feel so comfortable and confident in one’s place? Oh he knew she had her own shadows to deal with. He above all people knew that the secrets people kept were sometimes far darker than the evil they fought daily.

He offered a half laugh to her jubilant description of catching criminals unawares. Would she be so excited if it was his house? What would she have done if she’d pulled open one of those drawers and pulled out a blood soaked shirt? Would she have assumed the best or the worst? They didn’t know each other very well after all—and if she knew? Would she still experience that glow of triumph, or would it be a bitter, ashen victory?

He sat back, momentarily distracted by the appearance of a plate heaped with fries smothered in melted cheddar, bits of bacon, and—yes the waiter had even remembered to include some ranch. Perfect. His stomach growled with an eagerness that surprised him considering how off he’d felt only moments before.

How’s your work?”

Damn. He supposed he did need to contribute to the conversation. He finished chewing his fry, pausing for a moment as his stomach protested its first offering. How long had it been since he’d last eaten? He couldn’t even remember. When his stomach calmed down, he finally glanced up and managed a reasonable approximation of a smile and said, “Alright. Lot of muggles with creatures they should never have seen. I’ve been coordinating with the oblivators, so more time in the office than I generally prefer, but work is work right?”

“If I was smarter this wouldn’t have happened at all,” she said bitterly. It was the truth after all. She knew Bones was jealous, irrationally so since there wasn’t anything to be even remotely possessive over in their relationship. Still she pushed, to get a reaction out of Gavin of all people. Gavin, who still blushed at the thought of her naked. 

Bertha didn’t fight it as he left her and walked into bathroom once more. When the door closed she curled up in her armchair once more and suddenly felt how tired she was. Her heart was still pounding in her chest and she still wasn’t completely sure that Bones wouldn’t reappear in her doorway.

Not today though.

Today the water burned but the relief never came because he knew she’d be waiting on the otherside of the door, pensive and uncertain. She couldn’t trust him. The one person that knew the worst of him, and he’d damaged her too. He smacked his head a few times against the tile, but the sting soon forced him to stop. He focused on scrubbing his body, not stopping until his skin was red with more than temperature. At long last he had nothing more to delay with and he climbed out, drying off with an equal slowness.

Dragging on the pants she’d given him, he moved to the mirror, dragging the damp towel across to clear the surface enough to see himself. He looked better than he should have. Healing wasn’t Bertha’s particular talent, but she’d done well. It meant he didn’t have to go to the hospital, but he never did. She made it possible to keep his secret, and in doing so, put herself in danger.

He glared at himself. “I’m in control.” He’d swear his reflection was laughing at him. “She deserves better damnit.” He continued to glower at his reflection for several more minutes before he gave up and turned to grab a shirt, pulling it on wearily. When he slipped out at long last it was to find Bertha sleeping in her armchair.

He debated leaving her there, the coward in him eager to avoid any and all confrontation, no matter how much she deserved the right to lay into him. In the end he moved forward and scooped her up, taking her to her bed and tucking her in gently, and he couldn’t have said that the decision was entirely his. Once she was settled in her bed, he moved to the couch, stretching out. He didn’t sleep though. Instead he laid there, plundering the shadows in his head for answers that always danced just shy of his reach…

Alastor quickly moved to try to secure the Death Eater, but the crowd worked against him and filled in the space. The only thing he could hope for was that the mob would trample the son of a bitch. His thoughts jumped back to trying to get to the front of the room. “Make way,” he shouted at the oncoming fleeing wizards and witches. No one was listening to him still. He kept getting elbowed and jabbed by wands that it was seriously getting on his nerves.

Getting up on his tip toes, he looked over the bustling heads. There seemed to be more space near the outside. If he could get there, he could a side corridor and try to meet up with Bagnold and the Aurors and Order members protecting her. A detour, but it wouldn’t be fast one – though, if he continued to try to push through, it was going to take him forever to reach them. It seemed like the best option take, so he changed gears and started crossing the streams of people. He had to push and shove a few people out of his way, but he didn’t care how many people cursed at him.

When he was at the edge of the moving crowd, he quickly made his way to the nearest side corridor and ducked in. He briefly looked behind him to make sure there weren’t any Death Eaters pursuing him before turning his full attention to the hallway in front of him.  

His steps echoed against the dark floor. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he breathed in and out. The corridor was empty for all he could tell. The noise of the panicked people was growing more distant. His ears perked up at the sound of something shuffling behind him. The Auror abruptly turned around, ready to hex the person who’d followed him. No one was there. Just your imagination, he told himself and continued to walk forward.  

A corner was coming up, and Alastor slowed his pace. He quieted his steps, cautiously approaching the tiled wall. Pressing his back against the cool tiles, Alastor whipped around the corner with his wand outstretched. No one. He was alone. He breathed a sigh of relief and continued his careful walk.

Enjoying the chaos for a few minute more, he slammed his fist into a couple of faces relishing the crunch of bone and cartilage beneath his knuckles. He couldn’t linger though because he’d finally spied his target and the man was moving quickly. He watched long enough to get a sense of the other man’s direction and then he was moving too, taking a different route that would allow him to meet up with the other man in a much more private environment.

He tried to keep his steps soundless as he started approaching the corridor that would intersect with the one he’d been sure Moody was aiming for, but he’d never been very adept at stealth. He didn’t care enough about secrecy to be bothered with practice or learning spells that would make him more efficient. It helped that often the Dark Lord only employed him for destructive tasks anyway. Not a lot of forethought went into that kind of task.

“Show yourself!”

Fuck. No doubting the other man had heard him. Bones paused in the dark, pressing close to the wall as he considered the best option. He could go forward in a ‘guns blazing’ kind of style but ater acknowledging exactly ‘who’ he was after that just seemed stupid. No way was he going to beat Moody in a fair fight which meant it had to be unfair, and that was something he could do.

Deciding to take advantage of the man’s high alert, he threw a spell down the opposite corridor causing several doors to explode inward and a portrait to crash to the floor. The occupants of said portrait cried out in protest, and the sound masked his steps. He watched the silhouette of his target and the moment he had Moody’s back, he hurled an unforgivable at him. Dirty was his favorite way to play after all. He didn’t wait to see if the crucio made its mark because he knew time was of the essence. Every moment he gave Alastor to prepare and strategize against him was one more chance that he’d fail the Dark Lord, something Bones had no intention of letting happen.

A room that acted as stairs? The Gladiator had stepped tentatively into the lift, looking around for some explanation to how it was supposed to work. He didn’t really understand, but then again, considering everything else he’d witnessed that night, a magic room was hardly shocking. He’d seen sorcery, monsters and Jim was telling him some sort of witchcraft was making people forget who they were. What was a strange moving room compared to that?

He watched Jim reach forward to press a spot on what he’d assumed was some sort of wall decoration and gave a start as the room shuddered into motion. “What–?” he started to say, then snapped his mouth shut. Jim wasn’t an enemy, but that didn’t mean he should so openly show distress in front of him. Expression surly to cover his discomfort with the situation, he stared at the glowing spot on the wall where Jim’s finger had pressed and waited to see what would happen next.

“Where are you from?” he asked the other man. If Jim was right, if their memories were being played with, did that mean wherever they remembered being from was a lie? Was the life he remembered living nothing more than the shadow of a spell? It wasn’t a good life, but it was his. He didn’t want it to not be real. A thought occurred and he hesitated before adding, “When are you from?”

He was silent as the other man posed his questions, considering the best way to answer them. For some reason nothing seemed very straightforward here after all. He rubbed his temple and then said, “Its 2273CE, at least it is for me. For you I’d guess that it is still BCE, but it is hard to say. A lot of emperors enjoyed gladiators if I recall correctly.” He mused, not sure how that helped them.

He didn’t think they’d time travelled. Whatever was going on was relegated to their current location. The door opened, and he glanced up, his brows furrowing faintly. “It could be a time rift…Sort of a hole in the continuum where everyone is getting trapped.” He was accustomed to thinking aloud because that was how he worked with his team. He knew the man beside him wasn’t exactly following along, but it would be difficult to get new ideas if he didn’t have the oddball ones that Sword might offer.

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“I wish she hadn’t.”

“Ah,” he said with a quiet sigh. It hurt Edgar more than he would admit to the other man to hear him say those words. Tiredness deeper than physical exhaustion swept over him in a wave as he turned his gaze down towards his own tea. He didn’t know what to say, though not because he was disappointed or even too sad. He was sad, for sure, but mostly he was understanding. What a depressing thought that was.

There had been days where he’d wish to do the same, there’d been times when he’d tried. Admittedly those times had been in fits of madness, where he’d felt out of control and hardly even aware of his own actions, but somehow that only made it more terrifying. On his darkest days he thought back to those moments and wished he’d gone a little farther, that there hadn’t been someone around to stop him.

Is this what we’ve become?

Suddenly he missed his school years more than he had in a long time. Back when he, Sean, and Gavin would pull crazy stunts and simply spend time together, joking and laughing. Now one of them was dead and two of them were hanging on with slippery fingers to a dangerous ledge. When had things gone so wrong.

Easy.

He could feel a lump forming in his throat, hollowing out his chest. Even that feeling exhausted him, however. He was always in danger of bursting into tears these days. Forcing back the feeling, he looked back up at his friend. He’d asked the man for this, after all. How he wished he could help him like he so desperately wanted to.

Of course he would ask the one question he couldn’t answer. He wanted to. Desperately. He wanted to open his mouth and just pour it all out. It would be good to share it with someone beyond Bertha. She was a good woman, but he worried about her. Sometimes he felt as though she were protecting that other part of him, and although he never let himself dwell on it (mainly because he wasn’t sure he could handle it) he suspected that she had lied to him on more than a few occasions. Coward that he was, he couldn’t even bring himself to pursue the thought because what if she had? What if she told him the truth?

He shook his head, picking up his spoon and stirring the tea just so he could do something with his tea. “It’s my burden Ed and not really something you could fix anyway. Just…” he licked his lips and glanced up at the other man and in some ways, saw himself.

Not in the scruff or hollows of his face, but in the darkness of his eyes. That’s where he lived. In the shadows that haunted his best friend. I stole your son. Maybe Ed would kill him and then he wouldn’t have to face his own cowardice. It would just be over. I broke him Ed because I’m broken. He couldn’t look at him any longer and he ducked his chin. “I’m a failure Ed. At least you’re fighting.” For the right side. The mark on his forearm tingled as a reminder and he shifted in his chair.

He couldn’t even blame his guilt on that unwanted alliance. The monster in his mind had taken Edgar’s son out of what? Jealousy? Anger? Just because he could? Gavin wasn’t sure he would ever know. He couldn’t even remember everything Bones had done to the boy—he couldn’t even think his name.

He had almost finished the glass when it fell from his hand, “oh!” He frowned, his body beginning to tingle. He could no longer feel his hands and feet and a burning sensation ripped through his body, straight up from his groin. He couldn’t hold back a small groan and stumbled on his heels, slightly off balance. The glass had shattered and it crunched under his feet.

“Oh dear,” she said, looking down at the sticky mess then back up to the fellow. “Silly me.” She giggled and brushed the hair from her face, “I’m always so clutsy.” By clutsy she really meant tipsy, though she hadn’t had that much to drink yet.

“Well sir, this is a work party is it not? So I figured I should probably show my face at some point. And what do you do? That is quite the costume!” She exclaimed, brushing a hand across his large handsome shoulders towards his chest. Her hand grabbed for another drink and topped his up as well, glancing across the room at all the people in small groups. She loved going to parties! Not only the getting ready with her friends part, but also the late night stumble home with a mystery man on her arm.

She was cute though, and it was a party, and he was in costume, what was the harm?

The shift was so subtle that he never realized what was happening. One moment he was contemplating relaxing a little, and in the next the world was blinking out. He usually had more warning, and the panic that gripped his being barely had time to manifest before he was relaxing completely again, a trademark grin slashing across his tanned, shaved features.

“That is quite a costume!”

Jim eyed the drink in his hand thoughtfully for a moment, dismissing the girl as he tried to figure out what they’d been talking about. A swift glance around at the rest of the party goers coupled with her comment about a work party did not really help because he didn’t know any of these people. I must be on an away mission. It was a reasonable assumption, but why couldn’t he remember his objective?

The girl was smiling at him though, her eyes bright, and the way she leaned…

He sidled closer. He’d figure out his objective later. Right now there was a gorgeous woman before him, and it had been an awful long time. He ignored Uhura’s unwanted commentary regarding his ‘man whoring ways’ as it raced through his head. This was obviously a part, and the girl made it more than clear that she was interested. He’d be a fool not to capitalize on that.

It was a crispy day, though the sky was clear and the sun bright, in commemoration of the past summer. A light jacket was enough to keep themselves warm; since there wasn’t even a breeze. Marlene made her way down the street with Gavin behind her, pushing aside people with an absent smile, eager to get to the coffee shop before her friend suddenly changed his mind or something.

“Oh, I’ve been fine” she replied once they were inside the store and taking a seat on a table by the window “I mean, it’s still kind of odd not having to take the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, but I’m getting used to it. Work is great, having the time of my life, I am. I miss summer though, but at least it’s not so cold today, isn’t it?”

A waiter brought them a pair of menus in a plastic card, and Marlene eyes the least of food and drinks curiously, following the words with her fingers. She speed-read past the sandwiches and went straight for the cakes and pies. That brownie with ice-cream looked more than promising, if the picture on the menu was to be given any credit.

“Oh, I’ve been fine.”

He tried to focus on what Marlene was saying. Head bobbing, he glanced left and right, always aware. Ready for whatever might be thrown his way. When she confessed to the strangeness brought on by a September without the distant whistle of the Hogwarts express to herald the beginning of the school year, he knew what she meant. Of course he missed Hogwarts because he longed for a return to those simple days spent learning or playing Quidditch. “Yeah, being an adult’s not all it’s cracked up to be I think.” He said with a half grin that faded long before it reached his blue eyes.  

He skimmed the menu, his stomach performing somersaults at the idea of putting food in it. He started to push the card away, but something about the determined gleam in his friend’s gaze told him not to bother. So he considered the options again and said, “I’ll have some the loaded fries...” He glanced at Marlene to add, “More of a savory fan myself.” And he needed something more substantial. He had a feeling that a bowl full of sugar would just make him feel even more sick.

The waiter disappeared and he found himself wishing he’d taken longer to decide because all that was left was the yawning chasm of emptiness between he and Marlene. It should have been full of all the things they weren’t talking about. Things he would never share because he didn’t dare tell anyone else about his ‘problem’. It was a miracle that Bertha had never done so. His parents were silent because they were mortified. It was easier to deny the reality of his issue than to acknowledge the embarrassment of it. Mental illness in the Travers great family line? Never think it! No some secrets could not be shared. The gnawing desperation that ate at his soul was his burden. It was his price for freedom. To relieve himself of it was to consign himself to Azkaban.

Even to a coward, death was preferable…