Who: Emmeline Vance and Caradoc Dearborn
What: I don't even know anymore, they got angry for some reason. Morbid talk.
Where: Her flat
When: .........aftertheMcKinnonfuneral >>;
A wedding and a funeral in less than a week, life couldn't get more complicated.
The door to her flat shut and Emmeline was reminded that Caradoc Dearborn was behind her, and she erased her last thought from her memory and realized that it could get much,
much more complicated.
She dropped her shawl over the back of a chair and tried to decide in a split-second whether she wanted to drop to the couch and just
sit, or head into the kitchen to make lunch. Though, the preparation would be just to busy herself, as Emmeline had no appetite at all.
"I'll make something," she murmured, deciding to turn down the short hallway to her kitchen.
The past few days had been terribly, terribly draining, and she hadn't even been close to any of the victims. Emmeline slowly pulled out bread and rummaged for a knife as she tried to comprehend why, besides the obvious hit to the Order, she was so upset by all of this, and it occurred to her that the reason had just entered the room. Not--Max, her dog, but she let her hand graze through the hair on his back as he passed. Emmeline didn't lift her head to acknowledge Caradoc as she busied herself with setting up plates and trying not to let her thoughts and emotions get the best of her.
Caradoc slumped soundly into the familiar table chair, not making any effort to move to take off his cloak. Funerals had never bothered him, but this one he definitely should not have shown up at. Too many--- Emmeline was still upset (with him and the whole situation, certainly), and it was hard for him to stand there calmly while knowing that if any death eater saw him there that would be the end of that. He hadn't--- belonged there among all those people, and not for the first time in the past year, he felt like a blaringly obvious silver and green eyesore.
They both knew neither of them were going to eat whatever it was that she was making. But, Caradoc let her continue anyway simply because he had no desire to stop her. Nothing had been solved (actually, he had more to worry about because Evan was going to wonder where he had disappeared to; everyone was keeping tabs on each other now), nothing had been put into motion, nothing was--- he wanted to rip his hair out. Or kill himself, that would be easy. Or---
His hands fell from his face, and Caradoc began to watch Emmeline with sudden interest. He had never felt in so deep. But he couldn't--- she couldn't
know, no one could know, not a hint of strain could show on his face because---- Caradoc heaved a great sigh, shoulders twisting tight. Focusing on one thing at a time was the only way to try to keep his sanity at this point. Though even that was questionable.
"Talk to me," he muttered quietly as his gaze intensified on her. Caradoc's tone was neither pleading nor understanding and sympathetic, simply blunt.
She hesitated, knife sitting on top of the tomato for a second before she put it down to the counter. Emmeline turned to Caradoc, a bit surprised that he'd made the first attempt to--well, this
could just be that he was bored and wanted her to entertain him, but she saw and felt his hard gaze and realized that this could potentially be serious. Emmeline didn't think a therapy session was in the works, or that she was expected to sit and spill her feelings about the whole tragedy because---she couldn't. She wasn't getting herself worked up over that.
Of course she felt like a horrible person for that, but she
did feel bad for Frank, for Alice, for the rest of the Order that had lost one of their best friends. She
did, but she hadn't
known Marlene, or any of the other McKinnons (well, no, Matt--she'd shadowed him a few times at St. Mungo's), so all this was doing was making her
think. Think of 'what ifs' and the completely terrible way things could go and it
hurt because what if (there it was again) people didn't feel the same way? What if she was just being selfish?
Emmeline slid into the seat on the adjacent side of the table, trying to build up the nerve to bring up the question that had entered her mind the moment she found out the Order had been hit. She'd been contemplating it a lot, and it made
sense, but something inside made her worry that it was wrong and and selfish---just, wrong.
"Would you---" she couldn't look at him, her eyes dropped to the table and she felt a wave of fatigue pass through her, "would you leave, if you could? If--things got worse?"
That hadn't exactly been what he had been expecting from her, but that did not mean any form of surprise or intrigue broke out onto Caradoc's face. He silently sat back in his chair, palms cemented firmly on the edge of the table. Of course he had entertained an idea like that before--- various times, actually. It had been the easiest door to choose from, always seemingly open. Just leave, disappear one night and never be involved in anything again. But he most certainly did not have that option anymore. Things were too complicated, too intertwined and interlocked; impossible to accomplish successfully. But she didn't have to hear him say how bad it was.
So who was she asking for; for her, or for him? Did she want to leave, now? Nothing had happened-- to her, at least. What was the thought behind this sudden inquiry? He breathed slowly through his nose, still watching Emmeline very closely. She felt wrong about even speaking to him about this, he could tell. His head dropped slightly, chin now pointing down to the table.
"Yes," Caradoc answered unwaveringly. He felt no guilt answering honestly, nor did he think he could have answered in any other way. That was the truth; he had never wanted to be apart of all this, and look where he was now.
"But that would never be able happen." Caradoc leaned forward again to dip his head slightly, but only to see how she would react, if at all. He hardly thought anything would come out from her, neither of them were showing much emotion to begin with.
Her reaction was almost immediate, actually, and Emmeline pressed her palms into her eyes to force herself not to cry, though a choking sound escaped her throat. He just---he just
had to say that, right? He just had to remind her that there was literally
no way out? The one thing that had been on her mind since Saturday night, Caradoc just
had to verbally confirm. For a split second she thought that maybe he'd read her mind again, but the worry was pushed away immediately. He wouldn't be
that cruel.
"You don't---" Emmeline wanted to tell Caradoc that he couldn't
know that, he didn't know when this war was going to be over, he didn't know when the Dark Lord was going to fall, he didn't
know, but
she didn't know any of that either, so how could she try and make promises or at least be optimistic about things working out for the best? The Order had just been severely shaken, they've done
nothing of any significance in a long time and it was nearly impossible to think that something good
was going to happen.
Releasing a shaky breath, Emmeline's hands pulled away from her eyes, but only so that her finger tips could bounce against each other's tips as she pressed the side of her hands to her lips. Her thumbs pressed hard against her lips for a second before she dropped her hands to the table, finally able to catch Caradoc's gaze.
"I'd want you to---if---it--if you could, I'd want you to go," she answered quickly, voice quavering. It was true, it was very true and she'd decided that answer days ago; she didn't know why she wanted him to hear it, but Emmeline decided that if anything, it would make
her feel better, to let him know that she'd understand.
Asking for him, then.
And suddenly, for a few moments, he felt very angry with her. She wanted him to leave. For what. Where would he even go, what good would that possibly--- if he
left, it would only be days before they acted to get rid of her, didn't she see that? To them, he was Orpheus Travers, and she was Marlene McKinnon-- it was only a matter of time, because he was her chosen assassin. Perhaps that hadn't occurred to her yet, and he hoped it never would. It wasn't exactly what he wanted her to be thinking about, if something like
this was getting her worked up.
If everything was clear-cut, unattached and perfect--- yes, he would leave in an instant. But... there were other things to think about (granted, he found himself not concerning himself with Juliet as much anymore now that she and Nott seemed to have patched things up). Caradoc struggled with his next thought, trying to stop it from coming up, though impossible. Did she actually think he could
leave her--- here? Did she honestly believe that for a second? Just because he wanted to didn't mean he actually could. The thought seemed impossible, unachievable simply because he knew he wouldn't be able to do it.
"I'm not going anywhere, Emmeline," Caradoc stated suddenly, his anger still apparent in his voice. His hands curled to hold onto the table tightly now as his heels dug into the floor. As self-preserving as he was, even he knew there were some things you just couldn't get yourself out of.
"Why
not?"
Her hands lifted to the side of her head, fingers clenching into fists as she tried to shut herself up. Emmeline grimaced greatly and looked down at the table in front of her, shutting her mouth tightly. She looked and felt angry with
herself, and hadn't realized until Caradoc began completely ruining any sort of good idea she had how much she'd actually thought about this. There were a million and one ways to get out of this situation, she
knew there were. She could---take on a new identity. Right. That was easy enough. Live in the muggle world. Fake a death. It---people did that in times of war. Right?
She wasn't even important. She was
not vital to this war. What did Emmeline Vance do that made death eaters and--Voldemort want her dead? Just--not die. She'd gone over it numerous times in her head, that she had really never done...done a damn thing to really hurt the war. All she'd done was annoy a few death eaters by not dying, not staying in one place long enough for them to torture, to get to Frank.
Well, fuck, this really didn't need to turn into a self-loathing fest.
"Caradoc, I," her gaze was hard on the table, and her leg was bouncing furiously as she tried to control herself and her words. Emmeline didn't want to look like a fool, like a whiny little girl, but how could she tell him that
she'd rather disappear for the rest of eternity than know that Caradoc had---that he'd--Emmeline pushed her face into her hands and let out a muffled, "
Caradoc," because she couldn't let him
know.
Instantly, as she moved to cover her face with her hands, Caradoc drew back from Emmeline. He knew what she was thinking, or at least what she wasn't trying to say, and he honestly hoped she never said it out loud. Not because he didn't--- he just didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to address it because then, he couldn't ignore his mistakes anymore. He should have never gotten attached, become attached to anyone, and now, even with
Dorcas, as much as he loathed her, it was just too-- control was slowly slipping away from him, and there was nothing much he could do about it.
"Stop," Caradoc sounded sharply, hands moving from off the table. He had to--- stop her. The path they were heading down was self-destructive, yes; how could it not be, they were self-destructive people to begin with. But... his head turned slightly as he continued to watch her, and it didn't take long for his body to give an aching pang of pain.
"There's nothing you can do about it, so just--- stop." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he held in a labored sigh. They had sounded much harsher now that he meant them, and he felt them hang heavy in the air between them. Furious with the situation arising (and himself), Caradoc jumped up from his seat without a sound. He broke his gaze with her to turn his back to her completely, standing perfectly straight.
"Everyone dies eventually, Emmeline."
Emmeline watched him move swiftly, mouth dropped in stunned silence at his words. They'd had a little tiff like this before, through the journals when he basically shut any inkling of an idea she may have had to try and fix the situation, but to hear his true thoughts on the matter---did he think he was going to die?
Her mouth shut as she bit back tears at the thought, but her hands pressed against the table and the back of her chair as her body refused to sit any longer. Caradoc didn't
really think she would ever just stop trying to help him, that she'd just let things come and go as fate planned it? Because--there were a lot of things she had dealt with that definitely should not have ended the way they did. So even in this bleak, dreary time, Emmeline still managed to find a tiny speck of optimistic thought. Minuscule, but there
was the chance that things would go right. There always was, no matter what anyone thought.
She pushed herself up and ran her hands over her face before coming around and standing in front of Caradoc. Emmeline's hands dropped from her face and planted themselves on her hips as she took on a thoughtful, albeit somewhat annoyed expression. Mostly annoyed at herself for appearing so weak, but---she was really over that by now.
"Well--let's just," she cleared her throat, eyes on the ground for a moment before looking up at him, "let's just try to make sure that doesn't happen, and---" would he be annoyed if she tried to completely end the conversation right now? There was no way she could talk about this anymore without going completely hysterical and insane, "And, if you wouldn't mind---I need you to get me to shut up, because, honestly, I've rambled on far too much already and---that is just unfortunate."
Yes, it did annoy him that she was pushing him to end this topic. It was important--- the most important; he could not let her continue thinking these---
thoughts. She could not just simply turn away from the fact that yes, one day he was going to die from all this involvement. He did
not like that all that was on her face was simple annoyance. Annoyance? That was all? This was--
His face turned hard as he refused to look at her, directing his gaze at the wall next to her. "I don't think so," Caradoc stated, monotone as he continued to look away from her face. He couldn't take her light tone seriously, not for a second, nor could he actually accept that that was how she felt.
He had to--- leave. Before anything regrettable came out of his mouth (one thing in particular was already bubbling at the surface, eager to escape). So for a few seconds, Caradoc kept his mouth shut as he sidestepped away from her and toward the door.
"I should just go," he said quietly, still not looking at her, and certainly making no effort to touch her at all as he walked out of the room completely. "Evan and---- Emmet. Alecto, they'll be--- I need a--- I have to go." Though he was already in the small hallway, Caradoc was sure Emmeline had heard him.
Didn't he just--
Emmeline stayed put, listening to Caradoc walk away and mutter and...she stood, dropping her chin slightly in thought as she tried to figure out what had happened. He'd told her to stop, and then he got morbid, and instead of bursting into tears like she'd wanted to, she tried to take it in stride and...maybe her jesting tone wasn't the best way to approach it, but they'd had serious conversations before where things...didn't...go like this.
And now she was annoyed, because she was confused as all hell and still didn't have a settled thought on the matter. He could leave if he wanted, she didn't know what that meant about
them, but--he could. Emmeline had made a promise to herself not to go chasing after these confusing men she got herself involved with, but she
didn't want to let Caradoc go without thinking--without thinking that...oh, well hell, now he had her completely flustered and unsure of what to say, so---so as she came out to the hallway, not stepping away from the entrance of the kitchen however, Emmeline just hoped her brain was working well enough to get something intelligent out.
"I trust you, you know," she said thoughtfully, not with much emotion behind it, just a general fact that she wanted him to know. He had to have already, but Emmeline didn't know if she'd actually said that out loud, "With everything, so--yeah, have--good luck. I guess."
She shrugged, pulling her hair out of her ponytail only to tie it back up as she reentered her kitchen.
He didn't know what he wanted her to say to him as he left, but that wasn't it. Caradoc planted his feet on the ground once she spoke, and it took him a while to turn around. But once he did, he found himself swiftly retracing his steps.
She
trusted him? Why---
why? That wasn't--- he stood in the hallway for a few seconds, watching her closely through the door frame. While he needed people to trust him, that didn't mean they should. Something of the form of resentment passed through him (why,
why), and his face screwed up tight before he talked.
"Why!" he demanded, face burrowing with anger. It was unclear or not whether she had thought they were done, but not anymore. "Why should you! You shouldn't!" He couldn't even--- it immediately occurred to Caradoc that if Emmeline put together his previous mutterings together, he had just told her that Alecto and Emmet were death eaters, since she already knew Evan was. Again, in frustration with himself, he let out an angry noise. This had to stop. What the fuck had happened, he wasn't
affected by the McKinnons, so
why was he so suddenly seeming to fall apart?
It didn't make any sense. Caradoc's head fell forward, gaze going directly to the ground. "I'm sorry, I didn't---" Well. No. That wasn't true. He meant what he had said, but not the way that he had said it. He took a deep breath of air, trying again but this time in a much softer tone. "You shouldn't."
She hadn't moved far into the kitchen, or started to make sandwiches again in hopes that he
would come bursting back. Emmeline watched him react with narrowed eyes of concentration, attempting to take in all the meanings of his words and demeanor. Why didn't he think she should trust him? Caradoc had done nothing but help her, he'd done nothing but care in his own sarcastic and sardonic ways. For almost two years she'd known he was doing something for the Order, the first time she'd spoken to him outside of biting comments during sleepovers at the Dearborn's was her coming to the conclusion that he was helping James and Frank. Why,
why did he think he couldn't be trusted? Didn't Caradoc
see that even if he had that mark on his left arm that---that he knew what was right and wrong?
Emmeline didn't know about any of his experiences as a death eater, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to. She understood Caradoc had most likely been forced to do things that she would get sick over, but some strange part of her nearly admired him for managing to still see that he really wasn't that way, that---well, at least she thought he believed that. Maybe she had to make sure he knew that.
Because---you don't, you
don't risk everything like Caradoc was for something you didn't believe in, no matter how he denied it. Call it self-preservation or not, he could have easily just donned the death eater mask and never have bothered seeking help from the good that was Dumbledore and the Order.
"I need to," she said softly, coming forward and standing close to him. Emmeline's hands reached out to adjust the collar of his robes; they'd been slightly askew since they got here. Her fingers lingered, wanting desperately to pull him close, "Let me have that---please."
