Written for the Quidditch League, Round 3: Truth or Dare, Appleby Arrows - Chaser 2: Write about a Truth that is accidentally found out; using the prompts: (word) fair, (quote) You don't have to live forever. You just have to live. - Natalie Babbit, Tuck Everlasting, (dialogue) "Can we please turn back time and go back to how things used to be?" and for Camp Potter, Campfire Songs: "We made plans to grow old. Believe me there was truth in all those stories that I told."- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, "Cat and Mouse".

Thanks to Jill and Jade for betaing this fic!

Word count: 1932

if your wings are broken, please take mine

"We made plans to grow old. Believe me there was truth in all those stories that I told."- The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, "Cat and Mouse"

There was something different about Salazar these days, something colder. Godric could hardly pinpoint when and where it had first started, but it showed in Salazar's every action, from the way he moved to the way he talked, his sharp tongue now cruel as often as it was biting.

It felt like someone had taken the man Godric loved and hollowed him out, and sometimes Godric found that he was afraid of who was laying beside him, afraid that one morning he'd wake up and not recognize Salazar at all.

"I'm sure it's just a phase," Helga told him over lunch, patting his hand kindly. "It's understandable, really, after what happened to his sister."

Godric swallowed thickly, eyes burning with held back tears at the memory of the sweet girl he had grown to love as his own family having been so brutally murdered. "Yes," he said, "that's probably it."

"But you don't think so," Rowena sighed, her eyes much too wise as she gazed at Godric.

"I-I don't know what to think," Godric admitted, wringing his hands. "I- He's changed," he said, at loss of how else to express the wrongness he could feel down to his gut every time Salazar disappeared to 'work' these days.

"We've all changed, though, Godric, you know that," Helga said.

"But not like—" Godric bit back his words. Somehow, voicing his concerns aloud seemed like too much of a betrayal of Salazar's trust, and the man hoarded it so close to his chest already… Godric really didn't want to be the reason they pushed their friend further away, not now—not when it felt like they were just inches away from something terrible.

"I'm sorry," Godric said, drawing back into himself. "I shouldn't drag you into this, I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's fine, Godric," Helga replied, rolling her eyes a little before exchanging a fond look with Rowena. "You and Salazar are our friends, and your problems are our problems. You know there's nothing we wouldn't do for you, not after you helped us fulfill our dream. It's only fair, after all."

Almost against himself, Godric found himself smiling wistfully as he looked at the strong stone walls that surrounded them. Somehow, it felt like he could see right through them and into the rest of the castle-turned-institute-of-learning. "We did good, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did," Rowena confirmed, her smile mirroring Godric's.

They sat there in silence for a little while, staring at their nearly emptied dishes, before Godric shook his head and changed the subject. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't concern you so much with Salazar's and mine's affairs."

Rowena frowned, but Helga nodded. "You should talk to him," Helga said. "I'm sure everything will be cleared up soon enough."

"Yes, you're probably right," Godric replied, but he didn't feel convinced. He still felt—no, he knew—that something was wrong, and that knowledge sat heavy at the bottom of his stomach.

"Anyway, let's move on to more pleasing subjects," Godric said, forcing a cheerful smile on his face. "Rowena, how's Helena?"

It was always amazing to see the way Rowena's usually stern face literally lit up when someone mentioned her daughter, and the soft, loving smiles Helga shot the woman she loved.

"She's doing good—I think she might be up for starting classes soon, maybe even this year. Her magic certainly is strong enough for that," Rowena started proudly, and Godric leaned back in his chair, allowing himself to bask in this easy feeling of friendship.

He had the dreadful feeling that it wouldn't last forever.

.x.

Godric remembered the days where Salazar had been easily found with fondness. Back when they had still been building Hogwarts, Salazar has been everywhere Godric looked, or so it seemed.

"That's because you fascinated me," Salazar had admitted one night, his eyes shining with the softness only those closest to him ever got to see. He had wrapped one of his fingers in Godric's red curls and pulled, just a little, until Godric had stumbled forward. Their breaths had mingled then, and when Salazar had leaned forward to close the gap between their mouths, Godric hadn't moved away.

(it had been forever, it seemed, since the last time Godric had seen that softness shine in Salazar's eyes, and the thought is enough to tie Godric's stomach in knots)

These days, Salazar disappeared for hours and no one knew where he went. They trusted him, and it made Godric sick that he even had to think that maybe they were wrong too.

(behind Godric's closed eyelids, he could see it again: the nightmarish sight he had stumbled upon, when Salazar had found the men who had burned his sister alive, and when Godric had found what the man he loved had left of them)

Godric wandered the castle, starting from the room he and Salazar shared and moving down to the dungeons Salazar preferred to do his work in. Just as he had suspected, he found no trace of Salazar anywhere. The dread kept building up in his stomach even as discarded empty room after empty room.

'When had this started?' Godric found himself wondering, almost afraid to answer is own question. How had he missed it?

Still, he hoped he was wrong, and that Rowena and Helga had it right, that this was just a phase—just Salazar mourning his sister, and not something else.

But as he delved deeper and deeper into the dungeons—into Salazar's domain—Godric found it harder and harder to keep clinging to that hope. There was a darkness there, an uneasiness that lingered. It hadn't been there before.

"Oh, Salazar, what did you do?" Godric whispered, resting a hand against the cold stone of the walls.

A deep regret welled in his veins, threatening to overwhelm him, but Godric forced himself to push it back down. 'Salazar,' he thought, the name enough to stab at Godric's heart like a knife.

Salazar, and whatever Dark Magicks he was working on down there, had to be his priority now. And maybe, maybe it wasn't too late to bring him back.

It wasn't much further down, though by then Godric had almost given up entirely on finding him, that Godric finally stumbled upon Salazar. He would like to say that he was surprised by what he found there, but the true tragedy there was that Godric wasn't, not really.

The room stank of death, and Salazar was there, surrounded by dead bodies.

That wasn't what stopped Godric in his track, though. No, what did that was the way the dead were moving, the way their rotting eyes were staring unflinchingly at the man who, it was now clear, had somehow brought them back to a semblance of life.

"Salazar," Godric called, not sure he trusted his voice to say anything else.

Salazar's head snapped around, his eyes widening in surprise. "Godric. I-I didn't expect to see you here." He sounded almost sheepish, and usually the uncharacteristic stutter would have made Godric smile. It broke his heart to find that it didn't this time—that instead Godric just felt sicker, because Salazar didn't seem ashamed of what he'd been doing.

"I gathered that, yes," Godric replied, forcing his voice to stay steady as he stepped closer.

Salazar shifted uneasily on his feet. "I know how this looks, Godric, but you have to trust me, alright? I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? Do you really?" Godric asked, his voice rising. "Because to me, it looks like you're practicing Necromancy—that you're practicing Dark Magick, the kind we all swore we would never touch."

Salazar flinched. "I-Maybe, but… Godric, if this works, I could stop death. Can you imagine it? A world where no one needs to die anymore?"

Godric shivered as he understood. His heart broke, and this wasn't fair, but oh, how he understood. "That sounds terrible," he answered. "Salazar, please," he finally begged, crossing the last step between them and grabbing Salazar's arm. "A world without death? Do you hear how insane that sounds?"

"We could live forever," Salazar replied fervently, leaning into Godric until their foreheads were touching. "You and me, and Helga and Rowena—I could bring back my sister, your parents… Godric, we'd never have to lose anyone else!"

It would be a lie, to say that then, staring into Salazar's fevered eyes, Godric wasn't tempted.

"Salazar, you don't have to live forever. You just have to live. We just have to live."

"But what if that's not enough?"

"We'll make it enough," Godric swore, tightening his hold on Salazar's arm. Please, please, he let his eyes beg for him, you don't need to do this.

"I don't know if I can," Salazar said, torn. He looked so young then, closer to the boy Godric had first met than the man he had become.

But he nodded, and Godric half-collapsed in relief. "Thank you," Godric exhaled, pulling Salazar into a hug. "I'll help you," he promised.

Salazar laughed. "Okay. But, ah, do you mind if we, maybe, keep this," he said, gesturing to the decaying bodies that surrounded them, "between us?"

Godric closed his eyes, praying he wasn't making a mistake. "Anything," he replied. "Anything."

.x.

Things changed after that. Godric tried not to let them, but for all his efforts it seemed like Salazar was slipping through his fingers. There was a distance between them now, and Godric wasn't sure how to fix it. Worse, he wasn't sure if it even could be fixed.

The darkness had tainted Salazar's soul, and it would never leave him now. Godric still loved him, but he found that he couldn't forget it, least of all when Salazar's eyes took on that cold and detached glint that Godric just knew he was thinking about things Godric would never approve of.

"Can we please turn back time and go back to how things used to be?" Salazar sighed one night as they lay in bed uneasily. "I know you don't like what I did, but I'm not-"

"It's not that I don't like what you did, Salazar," Godric found himself saying, hysterical laughter bubbling up in chest. "It's that it was wrong."

"I know," Salazar sighed, the eyeroll so obvious Godric could almost hear it.

"Do you? Do you really?"

"I-"

"Please don't lie to me. Please."

Salazar seemed to deflate. "I wasn't hurting anyone," he answered, almost petulant.

Godric huffed. "You were hurting yourself," he corrected.

Salazar's eyes softened, and for a moment he looked like he used to, before. "That hardly matters."

"It does to me."

Something Godric couldn't quite identify flashed in Salazar's eyes at that, before the man hid it behind a smirk. "Aw, you were worried about me!"

Godric smiled, a little sadly, and ran a finger down Salazar's cheek. "I always worry about you."

"You shouldn't," Salazar sighed, wry.

"I can't help it," Godric shrugged.

Salazar stared for a long time, that odd emotion Godric couldn't quite identify back in his eyes. He heaved another sigh before closing his eyes tightly, burying his face against Godric's neck.

As he fell asleep sometime later, Godric thought he tasted something wet and salty on his lips.

It tasted like tears.

Salazar was gone when he woke up.

.x.

Years later, when people would ask him, "but did you know?", Godric would lie and say, "I never even suspected," because some things were worth more than the remains of his broken heart, and Hogwarts' reputation was one of those.

It was, after all, all he had left of Salazar.