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"What are you doing?" Rachel screeched, lurching forward. The guise of Caradoc Dearborn faced her, laying still on the damp ground, and she found looking away from him impossible though she wished with all her might she could. When the was the last time she had seen that face? That face people had decried as a Death Eater, that face that was supposed to have been dead. That face which had ruined her. Derek staggered up to his knees and caught her before she could reach the body, restraining her flailing limbs easily.

"It's not him," she choked out, fighting numbly against Derek's iron grip. "That's not Caradoc, it can't be, he's supposed to be—they said he was—"

"Well, he's not," Derek interrupted her, tightening his hold on her. "Or at least, his body is fresh enough to sustain Polyjuice Potion."

The words, delivered matter-of-factly, were akin to a slap on the face. Stilled, Rachel peered over Derek's shoulder at the chained Caradoc. Bruising coloured his neck and dotted his face at random. There were small cuts and blossoms of blood, a mirror image of what was on Derek's own face. Hope, in the face of all the sad memories she had of Caradoc, in spite of the times she had cursed his name and wanted both, either of them, him, to die, had awoken within her. "It has to be him," she said softly. "It must be." The Polyjuice Potion would have run out sooner or later, and a Metamorphagus would surely not be able to sustain the disguise for so long without breaking.

Getting to his feet unsteadily, Derek loosened the chains around his own body so he could stand straight, then pulled Rachel up with him. "That's part of the reason I asked you to meet me here. Rachel, you're one of a few that know him as well—better—than I do. We need to be sure that this is him."

She pushed away from Derek and walked around him to stare at the body. With a fixed stare, she regarded the body on the ground detachedly. The moments passed in a long silence before she stirred. "And what is it," she asked, cool composure regained, "that you plan to do with him? Should this in fact be Caradoc Dearborn. Or if, in fact, it isn't."

Sighing, he rubbed his temples. "What is there to do?" he asked heavily. "We all thought he was dead. I thought he was dead, since he and Dor—" Breaking off, Derek shook his head, unwilling or unable to speak the name. "He was supposed to be gone. So what has Caradoc Dearborn been doing all this time?" Beginning to pace, he continued, "Who has he been consorting with? Death Eaters? He was accused of being one, after all. He was one."

He stopped suddenly, looking at Rachel with a hunted look in his eye. "We can't let him go. What if he's reporting back to someone? What if more will follow? If I arrest him, turn him in, there'll be a trial. Then too many elements can go wrong, can't let that happen—" Derek ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. "What is there to do?" he asked again.

Raising her eyebrows, she cupped her throat with one hand, lifting her gaze from Caradoc to Derek. "You mean to kill him?"

"Do I have a choice?" he demanded.