WHO: Elliot Alderton & Archie MacMillan
WHAT: An apology turns into a confession
WHERE: MacMillan manor
WHEN: Early Tuesday morning
There was a crack, and Elliot appeared on the front steps of the MacMillan Manor. He had a moment of complete balance, but it was over quickly as he teetered and nearly keeled over to the ground. The morning after the full moon usually consisted of him sleeping until dinner time, but the moment he’d returned this morning Elsie had accosted him with the news of Archie’s late night visit. He knew his wife meant well and he was grateful for her cover, but if he wanted to keep his job and stay in the campaign business, Elliot needed to clear up everything with Archie. He knew his friend would still be in a frenzy about the missing speech last night, but---Elliot could smooth it over. He was sure Archie had spoken wonderfully and---
He grabbed onto the railing of the front stairs as his legs nearly gave out under his weight. Elliot took in some long, shaky breaths, trying to urge himself to be strong enough for this meeting, just for another half hour or so. That was all he needed. Shutting his eyes, he pushed himself up and forward, and knocked rapidly on the MacMillan’s front door. Elliot knew he looked like shit, but that could easily be brushed away with excuses of a late night dealing with his father. Archie knew how exhausting Arkie Alderton could be.
Elliot knocked once again, for good measure, and tucked his arm around his chest as his bones still ached. Hold it together.
In point of fact, Archie's speech had gone well, but the fluster with which he had begun it was undeniable. There were some vague talking points he recalled, of course, but being that it was the first time he was addressing his department in a formal capacity, he had wanted to be on point.
Not to mention that he was distracted, too, by the news of his friend's father. Ellsinore had seemed incredibly distressed when he had stopped by in his own panic, and he wondered if that meant Elliot's father was very badly off. Wondering when a suitable time to visit again would be, he made a note to himself to owl them a letter in the evening, after work.
He was straightening his collar, having just finished his breakfast, when he heard the knocking. That gave Archie pause, as their house (well, manor, more appropriately) was both fortunately and unfortunately situated in the middle of practically nowhere, so the foot traffic was virtually nonexistent. This was not to say they did not get door-to-door solicitors, but they tended to be of a most noxious and unpleasant sort. Archie grimaced as he made his way to the door, preparing to spend the next quarter of an hour arguing about whether or not he was in need of a case of Magical Mess Remover, or a brand new apothecary set.
"Elliot," Archie said, blinking in surprise as he saw the figure on his doorstep. "What are you—" Which was when he got a good look at his friend, a very good look. The man looked practically dead on his feet, and he immediately feared the worst.
"Dear gods," he let out, opening the door wide to usher Elliot inside. "What happened? Is it your father? Are you all right?"
“I’m sorry about your speech!” Elliot blurted before he could get anything else out. He figured that he should at least say that if he was going to end up vomiting on the very nice carpet and family heirlooms. Elliot lowered his voice, remembering that it was still quite early and that Archie’s wife and children might not be awake yet. He blinked slowly at his friend, “I don’t know what I could have done with it.”
Elliot tried to ward off Archie’s concern, but he feared that if he opened his mouth he would get sick in his friend’s parlor. He pressed his eyes closed one more time and took in a deep breath through his nose. He’d be fine. He was going to be fine! He was just tired.
“My father?” Elliot blinked, his panic over the speech and his focus on not getting sick causing his mind to slip for a moment. He looked to be in a complete daze, staring strangely at Archie. After a moment it dawned on him. His mind was slowly backtracking to Archie’s concern, and he shook his head furiously. That’s right! Elsie had told him that she’d explained away Elliot’s disappearance with his father being ill, and he gulped down a nauseous feeling.
“Me dad’s all right,” Elliot said with a nod, managing a weak, shaky smile. “I just---caught the same bug, I--I guess. That’s why---” He looked warily down the corridor. The last thing he wanted to do was bring Izzie or the children into this. “I can’t stay long, of course.”
The sight of his friend had pushed whatever annoyance still lingered over the missing speech in question entirely out of his mind. Archie was more worried about Elliot's ability to remain upright, and he could not believe that he had so much as Apparated in his condition. There was certainly no way he was letting him go out the same way, and Flooing was entirely out of the question. In fact— "Elliot, you don't—you look—"
Archie would have had to have been deaf and blind to not notice his friend's decline in health. It seemed as though after quitting the Ministry, he'd had a serious illness from which he had not quite recovered. Though they saw one another far less frequently following Elliot's change in career, he always seemed a bit more sickly than before. More easily fatigued. Subdued, in a sense. Archie was never one to pry into the personal matters of a friend, but more than once he had thought about the cause of Millie's death, and had an unpleasant wrench of fear that Elliot had may have suffered the same thing. It was a virulent enough disease that he might still suffer long-lasting ill effects from it. Or perhaps it had left him weakened and more susceptible to other sickness.
Brows drawn together in concern, he shook his head. Not so gently urging him down into a chair, he said, "Elliot, I think you need to go to St Mungo's. You look like death warmed over." Archie even backed away steadily with his hands up. "In fact, let me tell them now, you should—I can't even imagine why—or how—you came all the way here, feeling like this."
This--this was not going the way Elliot had expected. He felt a panic once again rise up in him and he shook his head, attempting to push himself back up but his arms shook violently and he dropped back into his chair. As frustrated as Elliot had been with how his lycanthropy had affected most aspects of his life, this weakness drove him to his boiling point. Elsie was the perfect angel, a nurse sent from the heavens, but he hated being unable to do anything of purpose for the day or so after his transformation. Liam seemed to have caught onto the schedule of his father’s illness, but what about Elysia? Soon she would be walking and talking, asking questions and as kids are wont to do, pestering for attention. Elliot hated the thought of having to send both of his children away, but what could he do? He was near useless, and the apparation really had taken a lot out of him.
“No, don’t!” he exclaimed, putting a shaking hand out, “I’m fine, I----I’m fine, I don’t want to go to Mungo’s, they can’t do----” Elliot pressed his lips together. The healers at St. Mungo’s would be able to tell what was wrong with him immediately, and to have Archie there----but what could he...he would just look like a fool if he sat here until he felt capable of moving. Elsie was going to have his head, he was sure, and Elliot let out a breath.
“I’ll be fine in a few days,” he muttered, putting his hand over his eyes, feeling delirious and unsure if he’d even said the words out loud.
"In a few—" Archie trailed off, nearly sputtering, not even entirely sure he'd understood the words properly. Was he mad? If he had seen Isobel in this condition, he'd have built a hospital wing in their house upon the very hour. How had Elliot's wife let him out of her sight when he was sickening like this?
Obviously, his friend was not keen on the hospital. Who amongst them was? Archie was paranoid about his health to the utmost degree, but that alone was not motivation enough for most of his acquaintances. But the fact remained that Archie was most assuredly not a Healer, and his friend was most assuredly in need of one, though had the absurd idea of resistance in his head.
Shaking his head, he tried for a different approach. "We have very small children now," he said, as gently as his nerves and slowly mounting panic would allow him. "We don't have the luxury of shrugging these things off anymore." Archie wracked his brains furiously for a solution, because if one didn't come, he was evidently going to be bodily hauling Elliot off to St Mungo's.
"Your sister," he said suddenly. "She's a--she's a nurse, isn't she? Let me send for her, at least. Elliot, I can't let you leave here like this. I'm not even sure if you can make it to the door to Apparate back. This is not something a few days is going to fix!"
Elliot stared up at Archie, stunned at his friend’s concern for him. These past few years, Elliot had hidden his disease from his best of friends in fear of what they might think of him, but----Elsie had married him, she’d become the mother to his son, she’d given birth to his baby girl. He was closer to his sister than he’d ever been. Even Diggle was accepting and understanding, offering up remedies to ease the aches and pains for the days before and after the full moon. Archie had been Elliot’s friend for as long as he could remember. He’d named Elliot godfather of his daughter, he’d trusted him with the start of his political career. Elliot took a deep breath, deciding that he could trust Archie with his deep, dark secret.
“She can’t fix what I have,” Elliot said slowly, making sure to look Archie in the eye. He’d never had to tell someone he was a werewolf. His entire family had been at St. Mungo’s when he was finally found after his attack, and they’d been the ones to confirm the news to him after his memory had come back. He felt his hands begin to shake, the familiar feeling of absolute shame starting to consume him. When he was home with Elsie and the children, even with his sister and her family, Elliot was mostly able to get back to his normal self. More subdued, definitely a lot more cautious, but he knew that they didn’t see him as a beast. In public, whenever he feared his secret might be found out, his entire body felt ready to shake the skin off his bones.
“I haven’t----I haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” he said, feeling that embarrassment on top of his mountain of shame. He should have trusted Archie, he’d wasted three years of his life being a coward. “Me dad wasn’t sick, I...it...” Elliot took a deep breath, feeling some color come back to his face only because of how hard this was to say, to admit. “It was the full moon last night.”
A look of confusion crossed Archie's face. Why was Elliot saying he hadn't been truthful with him? There wasn't any—there was no call for a friend to lie to a friend about something like this. Yes, Archie had been rather annoyed with the speech gaffe, but he'd obviously dropped those ill feelings in a moment upon learning about his friend's predicament. Not to mention he couldn't understand where Elliot's confession was leading. Granted, his name was perhaps misleading, but he never cared much more than a whit or two for astronomy. He supposed it had been the full moon last night, but… what did that have to do with anything?
Archie opened his mouth to say as much, fearful that his friend's ailment had caused him to become confused and begin speaking nonsense, and then closed it. Elliot had lied about his father being ill… and it was the full moon last night. These were very disparate thoughts to Archie, but the last sentence had caught his attention, with his mind puzzling over what it could mean.
But there was only one direction the phrase "full moon" took his mind, and surely Elliot could not mean that. A full moon was of significance only with the occasional potion brewer, and …
No, he would not complete that thought. Elliot had left his prestigious path in the Ministry for his father. Was his friend irreconcilably different from the Elliot Alderton of yore? Of course, but people changed. Life and circumstances… of course people changed. If he seemed to be a bit more of a hermit than he ever was before… if he seemed ailing, scarred, or bruised… if, perhaps, he seemed to fall ill with an alarming regularity…
Elliot Alderton was not a werewolf.
"Regardless, I am summoning for your sister," he said, unseeing, hearing a strange roaring sensation in his ears as he stood from his crouched position by Elliot's side and took a few steps back in the direction of his study and its fireplace. "You should not have come here in your condition."
