Letter to the Readers;
Okay, so I wasn't the only one having 9/11 flashbacks. I'll honestly admit that that was completely unintentional. I don't even live in New York! I do apologize for the story lagging, but I'm glad so many of you held out until the end. May I honestly state that most of you have more patience for me than I do? Isn't that sad? Thank you, however. Especially to Dianne, who has been such a loyal reviewer, and a very good and supportive friend. Hugs to you, and more reviewers than you cold ever imagine!
On another note, as much as I wish certain at this point, this may, or may not be, my last Harry Potter story. I have one more, slightly faded plotline in the making somewhere in this washed up little brain of mine. But it'll be a few months in the making, providing someone else hasn't done this already. We've preordered Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince which I am hesitant about since it is guaranteed Sirius-less and will most likely contain more angst than even I can handle. (Gasp! Say it isn't so!)
In the mean time, to keep myself occupied and from getting rusty, I'll be working a "Third Watch" story with hopefully one of the most intricate plots I can come up with. (I've been reading lots of Cop-per books. I have ideas. Be afraid!) I will also (hopefully) be updating an "Incredibles" story as well as starting up a James/Lily romance short that I started eons ago. (I'm really sorry, Quiet Infinity!)
Wish me luck, as I am going to need it. I hope this last chapter is satisfactory to you all.
Eladriewen,
Where do we begin, picking up the pieces?
Where do we begin after all that's been said?
How do we begin to say 'I still love you?'
How do we begin to repair this family affair?
Don't take it away from me.
Don't take away the one love that matters.
And we'll get well, you'll see.
We're all we have; we are family.
Abra Moore: "Family Affair"
Coughing and sputtering, Zayara Mondragon looked up into what used to be a dungeon ceiling. In one moment's time, it had been conveniently resized into a gaping hole, large enough to remind the chief MT and her shaken partner that there was a life beyond this darkness, and a star filled sky beyond the thick ocean-storm clouds that had once hovered like death over their heads. Clean, sea washed air blew down on them from the north Atlantic, for the first time caressing, and not beating tired bodies, in an embrace that only mother nature reserved for the most favored of her children. Taking in one, two, three deep, rejuvenating breaths, Zayara suddenly felt more strengthened in those few minutes than she had in the forty-eight plus hours she had been working while at this sight. The time had come. Some god, somewhere, had deemed their efforts suitable enough for some satisfactory results to come from a tragedy that so many were sure no one would walk away from.
"Hullo!" came a familiar voice from the improv sky roof overhead. Both medics peered up to see R. O. Leader Roy Ochoa leering at them from the safe position of a sturdy beam that had somehow never fallen from the ceiling. It's southern half lay embedded in pounds of shale, which was probably one of the reasons that it was still holding strong against the man's weight. "Here's a few faces we thought we'd never see again."
Zayara, at first, thought to call up a similar greeting, but her moods quickly changed when she remembered why they had been left stranded down here all this time.
"Where the hell is my trainee?" the chief spat. No time for luxurious idle chat. Zayara had a job to do. Roy rolled his eyes. Typical.
"What trainee?"
"You know which one I'm talking about, Ochoa. Kylie. The one I sent to get your disassembly team?"
A sudden frown danced across the handsome Spaniard's face. He scratched the new found stubble on his chin and pondered for a moment. His sanity had been coming and going for the past twelve hours, but he was pretty sure his memory was still in tact.
"She never said anything to me. No one did."
If this didn't make the chief medic mad, the fact that her partner had been calling her name for the past few seconds without remorse did. Angrily she turned and spewed out a shower of curses and ungodly utterances that made many of the men stop and gape at her amazingly advanced vocabulary. Tanis seemed used to this, however, for he barely flinched as his senior supervisor continued on and on with her rant. He'd worked with her for nearly three years now. He knew that these outbursts were often nothing more than her way of venting stress. She would be done in a few minutes and afterward he would be free to speak.
"What do you want?" she asked after taking a few deep sighs. Tanis looked up, completely unaffected, as Zayara assumed he would be.
"We're losing him, chief."
Zayara nodded. Her gaze turned back to Ochoa, who repeated the process back to his own associates. Silent communication. They were bringing their last survivors up from the shallows. This was it. After this, they were done.
After this, they could go home.
Tanis and Zayara eased the young, paling teen onto a stretcher, and with their wands floated him up. IVs, fluid sacs, healing spells, elixirs, all in tact and working properly. Ochoa's team floated it over where a group of well trained emergency response witch doctors were waiting to treat the latest and last victim. A few moments later, Tanis and Zayara floated up after their patient. Dirty, winded, tired and sore, but alive. For a moment. the R. O. Leader and their Medical Chief shared a sweet embrace, before pulling apart to grin sheepishly at their fellow staff members.
"Good job," Ochoa whispered into her ear before they parted ways. "Now can I get that date I've been holding out for?"
Mondragon rolled her eyes and headed back to the med tents. Ochoa watched after her, a confident smirk on his face. Tanis, who was a few feet behind the man, raised a questioning eyebrow.
Licking his lips, Ochoa pointed towards the MT chief with his stubble laden chin. "She's into me."
Tanis rolled his eyes, shaking his head on his way back to the med tents.
Remus watched as they pulled the latest victim into the med tents. He was prepped for immediate apparation, along with one witch doctor and the MT chief. With a deafening pop that made his pounding head throb all the more, the three were gone, but not before he had been perfectly capable of getting a thorough glance at the patient. He sighed a few seconds after their disappearance act, partly from relief, partly from heightened nerves. The patient was Harry; they'd found him. But was Harry going to be there in a few hours? God only knew how extensive the boy's injuries were, and even with the aide of magic, some injuries could simply not be touched, at least not by healing magic alone. Sometimes muggle procedures were brought in. Perhaps full muggle medical staffs if the case called for such an occasion. But even muggle medicine had its limitations, and in the most extreme cases, families were called in for final goodbyes and the arrangement of procedure and burial details. It wasn't pleasant, but it was how it happened.
The extent of Harry's injuries was not known to Remus, and he wisely assumed that any and all information he inquired about would be met with classified details or simple lack of knowledge. Either way, he would be left in the dark. The cold, impenetrable, mocking darkness. Oh, how Remus hated it. He'd been kept in the dark about so much before, but this was unbearable. Some secrets, no matter how important, could not be kept. Someone needed to be there for Harry while Sirius underwent his own procedures. And besides, who better than he?
Calling for a nurse, Remus relayed to her that he felt well enough to leave the premises of the medical tents. When she hesitantly gave him permission to do so, he immediately searched out the person he expected to be one of the chief magical medical technicians, or at least one of the close associates.
"Excuse me," Remus waved a hand around in the air so that he might be noticed.
"May I help you?" asked the sandy blond haired man Remus had been addressing. He recognized the man from earlier, his name was Tanis. He had helped Tonks before the collapse of the structure, and had been with the chief MT at the time.
"Yes, I must ask you about your latest patient."
"Supervisor's with him, sir," Tanis replied, his gaze drifting to his right toward the newly gathering MT recruits. They were chatting about idly when, in reality, they were too be writing out reports and filing medical inventory sheets. Tanis sighed. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."
"Do-do you know what hospital?"
The MT blinked a few times while eyeing the ground in careful concentration. "I'm sure its Mungos. They're the best when it comes to pretty much any extensive injuries, magical or otherwise. Try there."
"Thank you, sir."
Tanis walked away, paying no attention to the loud pop that sounded a few feet behind him. Probably just some of the debris snapping, he assumed. Perusing through a weeks' worth of inventory sheets, Tanis continued on with his daily procedures, casting disdainful glances in the direction of the rookie multitude.
Remus' first sense of apparating after so many head and other bodily injuries was not a pleasant one. He ended up on the floor of the basement lobby, which was probably a good thing considering he could have ended up splicing, or half way between a wall and a lift shaft. Or worse. A group of people immediately pushed away to give him some room, a noble few even leaned over to help him up and dust off his exhausted, beaten frame.
"Where you come in from, stranger?" asked a man with an accent that was definitely not from anywhere in England, or even the United Kingdom.
"Coming in from Scotland," Remus assured the stranger. Still winded, Remus managed to gently pull away from the man's spidery fingers which were only less startling than his marble bright eyes.
"Scotland, eh?" the man sniffed, turning his gaze toward the monitor's desk where so many were waiting to hear news on...something. "Yeah, that's where my Sasha be afore I was gettin' called all the way out here. Somethin' bout some mission. Didn' go right, now theys thinkin she hurt." He sniffed again and rubbed his hands together. Remus blinked. The accented drawl was definitely from some major American city. New York, perhaps? L. A.? No. Chicago?
"The Keep..." Remus sighed. With a sense of duty that was heavier than his friend's brogue, he pushed through the crowd, ushered himself forward until he was more heaved upon than pushed into the desk, where one very haphazard looking nurse stood with her hair in a mess and her elegant white doctoring robes drenched in sweat. On a normal day, Remus was certain she would be a very attractive woman. Tonight, however, she looked the same as the rest of them. Haggard, misplaced, slightly unnourished, and desperately searching for a way out.
"Sir, you're going to have to-"
"A boy was brought in here!" Remus interrupted. He had no time for her damned Mungos protocol.
"Sir, you need to-"
"I can't wait! I need to know his condition."
"You and everyone else, sir. Now please-"
"Remus!"
He turned his head and found a wave of pink with tear-stemmed green eyes flying toward him through the crowd. Tonks' awkward appearance was enough to send most of them spiraling out of her way, but the selected few who did not have time or did not bother to regard her approach were literally flung out of the way. Thin, weak arms wrapped around his neck while she sobbed bitterly into his shoulder.
"Ma'am? Sir?"
Tonks waved the desk attendant away and dragged Remus by his arm through the lobby and up through a corridor.
"He's been in the O. R. since he arrived," she started, wasting no time. It was one of the nicer qualities of Tonks. She knew Remus well enough to understand why he was here, and what was critical for him to know, if he was going to know anything at all. "We don't know anything."
"Who? Sirius or Harry?"
"Harry." She stopped to catch her breath and to toss him into the nearest lift. Following after, she continued on with informing him of everything that had happened. "Sirius is out of surgery. He's back in his human form. He's conscious and fully comprehends everything. All he wants right now is to know how Harry's doing."
'Understandable,' Remus reasoned to himself within the jumbled confines of his head.
"Naturally, since we don't know anything there's not much we can tell him. Just reassure him..." She paused. "And that's not doing much good."
Sighing, Remus allowed himself to take some rest against the walls of the lift. So many things falling into place in his head. So little time to process it all. So much to hope for, and so much of that was so desperately out of reach. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Eventually, fate had to stop picking on them and move to someone else. Didn't it? Wasn't there some unwritten rule in the non-existent book of life that this had to happen? A person could only keep their sanity after so much. Surely many of them were nearing, if not far past the breaking point.
"Harry's strong," he allowed himself to say after a while. "I'm sure-"
"Millie died."
His words were ripped out of his throat faster than he could breathe them. Millie? The Millie? As in the Phoenix Squadron Millie? Jesus!
"What about Moody?"
A grim smile lit up Tonks' face momentarily.
"Strong as ever. They keep wanting to examine him, but he refuses. Just sits in the hall with an ice pack on his head and a frown on his gnarled face."
Remus could barely suppress a smile. "Who else is there?"
Tonks lifted a hand and began to tick off names. "Dumbledore is there."
"Of course."
"Snape. Moody."
"Naturally."
"Hagrid slipped in."
"Unnoticed?"
Tonks chuckled but continued. "The Weasleys. The Grangers."
"The Grangers?"
"All four."
Remus nodded, then frowned as his brow knitted.
"Four?"
"The misses is expecting."
"...I see."
The lift stopped on the appropriate floor. Tonks filed out, helping Remus as he scuttled past and onto the floor.
"The Minister of Magic and a few associates."
"Bloody brilliant."
"And those of the Order who aren't gone or recovering."
"Meaning?"
"Diggle. Myself. Allen. A few others..."
"A few others?"
"Yes well, I didn't exactly go around taking names."
Remus sighed, nodding his head in understanding. It was really remarkable that he was able to assess this much of the situation, especially since he had just arrived. They turned a corner in time to catch the doctor walking past them with a rather stern face. Tonks and Remus exchanged glances before peering back toward the group of folk who had suddenly started in an uproar. She ushered him immediately into the crowd, where they found Dumbledore at last speaking with the Minister of Magic.
"Dumbledore!" Remus wasted no time in getting the headmaster's attention. The elderly man looked from the Minister to Remus and immediately disregarded his former company, much to the insult of Cornelius Fudge.
"Remus! So good to see you on your feet. Last I heard you were in the medical tents on the bay by the sight."
"I'm feeling much better now, sir."
"Good. Good." The elderly man wrapped an arm about Remus' shoulders and pulled him off to the side. Tonks, knowing better than to step between their private matters, adjusted herself to talking with Mrs. Weasley. The rest of the crowd continued on with business as usual, or so Remus assumed.
"The doctors just spoke with us," Dumbledore continued. "You know of Sirius' condition I would bet, yes?"
Remus nodded. "Tonks told me. He's expected to make a full recovery?"
"Yes," Dumbledore allowed the gentle grin that so suited him dance across his creased and weary face. "And Harry..."
"What about Harry?"
"There were some minor complications, Remus. With his leg."
Remus frowned. "They didn't take it, did they?"
"There was some debate over the issue...but no, they didn't take his leg, Remus. He's going to be taking a healthy number of elixirs, however, for some time so that it may heal properly. Dehydration and some bruises on his back, as well as a separated shoulder. He'll be here for a while, but he is expected to make a full recovery. Not a speedy one, but a full one."
The news was so much better than he could have hoped for! Remus might have fainted had Arthur Weasley not stepped up behind him to slap him on the back.
"Good news, isn't it?" He stated in a very stiff voice. Dumbledore nodded, the undying twinkle shining through even more so in light of recent events.
"Grand news, Arthur. Grand news indeed."
"The food in this place is horrible," Sirius sneered, laying his tray on the bed stand. Remus grinned, biting idly off an apple that he was proud to admit he had brought in himself.
"I offered to pick you something up before I came."
Harrumphing, Sirius rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not hungry."
A laugh betrayed Remus' true feelings. With a finger pointed at his friend, he said with the brightest grin he could afford; "With all the things that you've been through in the past number of months, I would have thought that you'd have matured a little."
Sirius joined in the laughter. "You forget who you're talking to, old friend."
"Ah yes. I mistake you with James. He learned from circumstances."
"Yes, James learned. I don't."
"And you never will, I'm sure."
"My dear Remus, some things never change."
Leaning over, Remus rolled the apple between the fingers of his right hand. He concentrated for a moment on the light as it shifted slightly on the floor. The sun was passing, and the days were slowly melting away. One into the other. The way they should. It had been so long since he last spent a day it in the warm, hospitable company of a friend that he had almost forgotten what if felt like. That sense of warmth, that sense of normality, that sense of unyielding affection that a person only received from true friends. That sense of welcome that was so uncommon, especially for someone like him.
"I've missed this, you know," he admitted at last.
Sirius peered up at his friend, looking utterly perplexed. "Missed what?"
"This." He paused, taking a moment to get lost in his thoughts, before coming back to the current situation. "Talking. Laughing. I'd forgotten what it's like."
There was a moment of silence in which the other man considered these facts. He nodded after a few moments, realizing that it had indeed been far too long since he too had shared in the comforts now presented to him.
"I think when we get out of here we should take a long vacation."
"You and Harry?"
Sirius nodded, then waited, a contemplative frown on his face. "Why not you come along?"
"I beg your pardon?" Remus laughed; slightly appalled, slightly embarrassed by the idea.
"The three of us. A vacation."
"I'll pass, thank you." He leaned back in his chair, sighing wistfully.
"Bah. You're no fun."
"Harry will provide you with plenty of that, I'm sure."
A grin creased Sirius' face. "Naw. He's got too much of his mother in him there. He's no risk taker. Harry's far too...grown up?"
"Mature?"
"Responsible."
There was a few moments of silence before a highly amused voice chimed in from behind Remus' seat.
"A Potter? Responsible? Isn't there a written rule against that somewhere?"
Both looked up to see young Harry smiling back at them from the doorway. There was a satchel in one hand and a cane in the other. Remus leapt up to take the parcel from his hands and ease him into a seat. The latter gesture Harry refused, too stubborn, they would deduce later on. A blame that could only be placed on Sirius.
"So they're letting you walk now?" Sirius asked, digging through the parcel which was apparently a wide variety of foods ranging from a batch of Hermione's famous brownies (which they all helped themselves to) and one of Hagrid's infamous fruit cakes (which made a nice paperweight for the doctor's papers). A canister of Bertie Blott's every flavor beans (which no true, fun-loving witch or wizard ever grows out of; and that includes Remus Lupin), and a various sorts of candies made and purchased by friends of Harry and Sirius alike.
"Yes well, after beating the doctor senseless with my cane it wasn't too hard to convince him," Harry said with a wide grin that negated any true sense of violence. Sirius laughed while choking down a vomit-flavored bean.
"You'll be admitted out before your elderly godfather here, won't you?" came Remus, just before a rainstorm of ear-wax flavored Bertie-beans came down upon him from the bed-ridden Sirius Black.
"Oh yes." Harry tried to refrain from snickering.
"You'll come visit though, won't you?" Sirius did his best puppy-dog face without actually changing into his animagus form.
"Naturally."
"Where will you be staying?" Remus continued, trying to keep the conversation from lacking any sense of intelligence.
"With Ron's family, of course."
"What about school?"
"Professor McGonagall and I talked about that already, actually."
Remus couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, impressed that so much had already been so swiftly taken care of.
"Old bat doesn't waste any time, does she?" Sirius grumbled, thumbing through the bean canister for something to eat; or for something to throw.
"So what are you doing, then?"
"McGonagall advised that I take the courses I missed via owl-mail. I kind of teach them to myself, and then I take the test and send it back to her when I'm done."
"Really?" Remus peered over at Sirius, who still had his face buried in the canister of candies. "Who's going to oversee your studies?"
"Well..." Harry trailed off, peering over at the still distracted Sirius.
Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "If you need help you'll know where to find me."
A relieved grin came over the boy's face instantly. "Thank you, Remus."
Both ducked in time to avoid the wave of dirt flavored bertie beans.
"Are you saying I can't educate my own godson?" Sirius argued, doing his best to actually look offended.
Remus and Harry exchanged a humored grin.
"Some things never change," said Harry with a sigh. No one said anything after, just enjoyed the company.
Some things never changed, but most things do. And sometimes, just sometimes, someone somewhere was lucky enough to earn back that which they once had lost.
The End...
Indeed...
I love you all!