Name: Chris

Title: il suo cuore è il cuore di myr

Fandom: Wizards of Waverly Place

Genre: General

Rating: T

Summary: Maybe these people, who clearly love her, can help. [Justin/Alex]

……

and I drive, alone with my mind

fighting thoughts of this kind

- another american folksong, william sroka

……

Prologue: veglia

……

She'd be lying if she said she was doing this for anyone other than herself. Sure, it may seem self sacrificing on the surface. And yes, if anyone were to actually ask her she could say that it was better for everyone really to stop the whole thing before it started, but she won't.

They won't ask though. And Alex won't ever tell.

If there was another option here, if she had another choice, then she would be all over it. But there isn't, so here she is, her stomach churning and palms sweating.

Instead, she opens the book, the dark silence of the room, making the ancient leather binding crack with protest.

Running her finger down the page where she copied the spell from the Forbidden Spell Book, Alex lifts her wands and whispers the incantation, the words heavy and foreign on her tongue.

"Veritas obliate."

And the world goes black.

……

"Honey…Alex, neña, can you hear me?"

Blinking open her eyes, she focuses on the faces hovering above her. Each one looks more concerned than the last.

Sitting up is not an easy task; her arms feel like lead and her head pounds with the change in direction of blood flow. There's a ringing in her ears, and she rubs at them, the sound reduced to static, to try and feel somewhat more normal.

Whatever normal may be.

"Alex, are you alright?"

She looks up into kind brown eyes hooded beneath a worried, furrowed brow. They search hers, her face, all over, for any sign of injury. Seeing no cause for concern, they shoot back to her eyes, holding steadily.

"I-" Her voice cracks, throat clogged and scratchy. "I think so."

Collective sighs of relief surround her, four in all. She allows her eyes to dart from face to face to face, marveling that such a simple statement can have such a profound effect on other people.

"I just…" Pausing, she rubs her hands on the legs of her jeans, chafing the denim against her thighs so hard that they itch when she stops and no doubt will be red underneath the fabric. "I think something happened."

Someone else comes in the room, another guy, obviously older than the one already there. Kneeling in front of her between the other people surrounding her, he leans close to her face. It should make her pull back in discomfort. But despite the violation of her personal space, she doesn't feel anything other than perfectly safe.

Under the circumstances, it's a nice feeling.

Pale eyes narrowing, he tilts his head and regards her carefully. "Alex, what happened? What's the matter?"

She licks her lips and glances around. Everyone looks so worried, so concerned for her and she's touched. Even through the fear and the confusion and the unexplainable faint smell of smoke sticking to her clothes, she's not afraid.

Maybe these people, who clearly love her, can help.

"I don't remember."

More furrowing of brows, more creased lines above the bridges of noses. Looks pass between them and it feels like observing a game of charades with no hope of ever putting the clues together, pieces with no whole.

"You mean," says the older man, the one with the kind brown eyes, "you don't remember what happened in here?"

For the first time she looks around and absorbs the room she's in; the brick walls, the antiquey looking furniture, the shelves of books and odd little knick knacks, the high table in the corner with bottles and a small black pot and a small pile of ash on it.

She shakes her head, wonders what they're going to say, do, think.

"No. I don't remember anything."

……

Short, but hey, it's only the prologue.

"il suo cuore è il cuore di myr" your heart is my heart

"veglia" wake