Utinam (If Only)
At long last, my submission to the rs_games for 2012! Now with functional formatting! (Originally posted here)
Team: Sirius
Title: Utinam (If Only)
Rating: PG
Warnings: non-linear timeline
Word Count: 2,250
Prompt: 35 - "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." ~ Maya Angelou
Summary: In Azkaban, Sirius remembers.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Eternal thanks torewrites24 and real-life friends C, C, and J who talked me through this. Thanks also to Team Sirius who answered my nit-picky plot-point and timeline questions :)
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
- John Greenleaf Whittier
------------
Remus. . . Remus. . . No, God. . .
Over and over Sirius called out, never sure whether the words made it all the way to his lips, or whether they got stuck in his brain, echoing off the inside of his skull. Another dementor glided by, and Sirius was once again struck by an onslaught of images in his mind.
------------
Sirius looks at the other side of the bed through hazy eyes. Remus is away again. Remus is always away. But sometimes there's a pot of coffee left for Sirius in the kitchen, and sometimes a fresh jar of jam in the refrigerator.
Sirius is often away, too, he concedes. He tries to bring home things for Remus, also, but there is never anything that makes sense. One time, he remembers, he just skipped his Order assignment and waited for Remus to return. Remus got angry, but Sirius said some things were more important, and Remus said no, they weren't, but gave in anyway.
But now Sirius walks into the kitchen and there is no coffee. So he makes a new pot and returns to the bedroom to dress, only to find the closet half-empty. Confused, he turns and opens Remus's chest of drawers - also empty.
And in the bathroom, only one toothbrush. Remus is gone. Not away. Gone.
'Wha-? What-?' His voice fails, his mind stops, and his fist collides with the wall.
------------
After the dementor passed, Sirius forced his mind to other things. He thought briefly of Harry. Harry had survived. Harry would live. His thoughts slid away, imagining Harry alone with no family, Voldemort miraculously reappearing to finish him off, and Sirius succumbed to the impending presence of the dementors.
------------
Sirius opens his eyes to see the bathroom floor through Padfoot's grey vision. His mind takes a minute to catch up. He had sat down and yelled - angry, lonely, worried, until his voice gave out altogether. And then he had forced such complicated emotions to the back of his mind and changed into Padfoot. His mind had wandered back through the Forbidden Forest and the best adventures their little pack had taken, and he willfully got lost among the trees.
He shifts back now, his human eyes dry and raw and his knuckles aching. He straightens up, coughs, and walks back into the bedroom. He stares into the closet and the top drawer of Remus' chest, which he had left open after his last go-through.
Sirius shakes his head and tries to collect himself. He shuffles cautiously into the living room and eyes the empty coffee table where Remus' photo album usually sits. Well, that's it, then. He's really gone.
------------
After some weeks, Sirius had stopped seeing James and Lily, frozen in death, flash behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. It started to alternate with the empty bed, empty closet, empty table. Merlin, please. Have mercy. Just make me empty.
But if Merlin heard, he did not act. And dementors have no concept of mercy.
------------
Sirius turns and moves into the kitchen, almost without thinking. Coffee, he thinks, and the right corner of his mouth turns up just a hair as he sighs. 'If you can't fix it, no use disrupting your whole life for it,' Remus would have said. So, coffee, clean clothes, and who the hell knows what next.
Sirius reaches into the cupboard to pull down a mug, and he spies a slip of paper. He takes it in his hand, and his chest and throat tighten again as he recognizes Remus' handwriting.
Sirius-
I'm sorry there is no coffee made; I didn't know when you would return. The Order is not safe. It is better if you are alone, so that no one can learn your Secret. I am not, to my knowledge, a spy (though I can't prove it), but Voldemort may have methods of acquiring information that we don't know of yet. So I am gone. Do not look for me. Dumbledore has taken care of me. I will come back. I am sorry.
Please forgive me. Love,
Remus------------
Sirius wondered whether he cried out as often as the prisoners around him. He wondered whether his voice was distinguishable from the others at all. When there were particularly few dementors around, he managed to pull himself out of his own misery enough to listen to the others. He listened hard, longing to hear Death Eater voices, to know that the Order were making progress against Voldemort and his cronies. He recognized no one.
------------
Sirius doesn't know how long he has stared at the note or how many times he's read it. He takes the mug out of the cupboard, but before he can pick up the coffeepot, he hears a shatter against the other wall of the kitchen. He turns to see the mug in pieces all over the floor. Goddammit. He hasn't lost control of his magic like that in a long time. Not in a very long time.
He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and carefully aims a 'Reparo' at the shards, and Summons the mug back. He fills it halfway and sits down at the worktop.
God, Remus, why didn't you say anything before? Why didn't I tell you? Is this for real? Did you really leave because you were worried Voldemort might have you? Does he have you? Are you out running around with the other wolves just waiting to make your move?
Sirius can't say he's enjoyed the say-nothing tension around the flat lately, but Merlin's beard, it was better than this emptiness. At least he's had his mind made up for him whether to tell Remus about the switch. God, it's empty.
------------
More weeks came and went, uncountable in the confines of prison. When possible, Sirius thought about Harry and wondered how he was faring, but such hopeful thoughts were few and fading fast. Eventually he became numb to the anger and loneliness brought on by the dementors and his memories. So the dementors found a new source of nourishment-guilt.
------------
The wind is a bit nippy, but Sirius doesn't notice. His blood is boiling, and what does the weather matter anyway when your family are dead? James and Lily weren't blood relatives, but Sirius has long since abandoned the notion that family means blood. His feet pound the pavement as he approaches the crowd of people ahead.
Peter Pettigrew, you foul, lying piece of SHIT!' Sirius begins, his wand aimed between Peter's eyes. But Peter cuts him off, sounding louder and more confident than Sirius has heard in years.
Sirius! Sirius, how could you? James was our friend! What did Voldemort pay you that you would betray James and Lily? How dare-'
-and then there is an explosion so powerful that Sirius' body smacks the ground and he loses his breath. When he climbs back to his feet, there are people strewn about the sidewalk, bleeding, crying, and looking generally terrified. But there is no Peter.
That fucking rat gave them up and then killed himself so no one would know.
Sirius laughs.
------------
And so for a time all Sirius could think of was how it was his fault that James and Lily were dead. He should have done something different. He should have known. It was his job to know, to guard them. They were stuck inside and he was their protector. If only he'd kept his stupid fucking mouth shut and stayed their Secret Keeper.
------------
It's evening time and Lily is dancing slowly around the living room, little Harry nestled in her shoulder, as she tries to make him sleep. James is sitting on the sofa with the Daily Prophet (headline: Muggle Deaths Total 82 in September), though his mind seems to be elsewhere. Sirius is at the table, arguing with himself. He thinks Voldemort's people are onto him as the Secret Keeper. He thinks they're all in danger.
But who else can we trust?
He's wanted to ask Remus' advice, but that's half the problem, isn't it? Remus is away all the time, and mysterious. . . Sirius wants to know what he's up to, but Remus always says they shouldn't discuss their Order assignments. 'Don't trust anyone more than you have to' and all. And that horrible voice at the back of his head keeps wondering What if he doesn't talk to me because he's gone over? What if Voldemort's promised him something? What if werewolves are all Dark? What if. . .
'James?' Sirius starts talking before his mind can back out. 'I don't think I should be the Secret Keeper.'
------------
Peter's face was solemn in Sirius' memory of the night he took the oath. Why couldn't I see it? Why didn't I realize what he was up to? But even then, Sirius thinks, he could have told Dumbledore what they did. . .
------------
A few weeks later, Sirius sits in his flat, staring at the fire, feet up on the coffee table by Remus' photo album. James and Lily finally agreed to take Pete on as their Secret Keeper, and they performed the ceremony last night. Sirius is vibrating with the news, but he can't quiet the voice in his head, telling him to trust no one. Dumbledore, though. If I can't trust Dumbledore, this whole operation's gone to shit anyway.
He checks around the flat one more time, just to be sure he's alone (Remus is away. Surprise.), and then grabs a handful of Floo powder and tosses it into the grate. He speaks the name of the Order headquarters and ducks down to put his head in the flames.
'Hello?' He calls. 'Is anyone-ah, yes, hello Doge. How's it going? Is Dumbledore around?'
'No, sorry, he's out for a few days. Should be back tomorrow or the day after, I think,' replies Doge. 'Shall I tell him you were here?'
'Nah, that's fine.' Sirius tries to be nonchalant. 'I'll see him at the meeting on Sunday, so I'll check in then. Thanks!' And he steps back out of the fire, dusting the soot off his clothes and banishing all thoughts of this from his mind.
------------
Goddammit! That decision to wait replayed itself in Sirius' mind over and over, day after day. Yeah, ask him if I can have a quick word when he gets back? he could have said. I have an important message for him, he could have said. Would it have mattered, though? Would they have known the danger of entrusting their lives to that slimy rat? Would James and Lily have lived?
------------
Two days after that first discussion with James, Remus comes home again. Sirius is off assignment as well, and he wants a day of normal, wants that voice in his head to SHUT UP because this is Remus, dammit, and Remus is good. They sit in the kitchen and drink their coffee, but the conversation doesn't flow right, and Sirius can't figure out how to bring up the topic of James' Secret Keeper without Remus shutting off entirely. Later, he thinks.
Sirius talks Remus into a game of chess, hoping some discussion of 'strategy' or 'tactics' might pop up and give him a lead-in. But Remus' mind wanders, and neither of them can put much effort into a wooden war when there is so much of it around them. They both doze off on the couch, with just their feet touching, and strangely that's the most connected they've been in a long time.
After supper they eventually find themselves in bed. They kiss and they touch and they moan, but it's more out of habit than anything else. There is a little playfulness and lots of pleasure, but in the end, the tension between them is not resolved. They sleep uncomfortably.
Remus will only be home for a few more days, he says, and Sirius spends those days trying to convince himself to tell Remus about the new idea. The night before Remus is meant to leave, Sirius gives up and tells himself that the fewer people who know, the better.
------------
Sirius tore his own hair out while those days repeated themselves over and over in his mind. Every opportunity lost, every moment he had sat in silence or poked fun at Remus' socks, and pretended things were Right when they had clearly been Wrong. Why had Remus decided to leave? What might have happened if Sirius has been there? Would they have had their fight at last? Would they have trusted each other?
He couldn't have made it home any sooner than he did, though. And they probably wouldn't have fought. Or it probably wouldn't have fixed anything. Fucking hell. What if he'd kept his head in the ruins of James' house? What if he'd gone to find Remus then, to tell him what happened? Or Dumbledore? Or anyone?
Maybe at least it would have kept Sirius out of prison. Maybe even if he'd still gone to this hellhole, his friends would know he was innocent. Remus would know. But Remus didn't know. Remus might never know.
And after years of drowning in guilt came the suffocating years of regret.
-fin-
Team: Sirius
Title: Utinam (If Only)
Rating: PG
Warnings: non-linear timeline
Word Count: 2,250
Prompt: 35 - "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." ~ Maya Angelou
Summary: In Azkaban, Sirius remembers.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Notes: Eternal thanks torewrites24 and real-life friends C, C, and J who talked me through this. Thanks also to Team Sirius who answered my nit-picky plot-point and timeline questions :)
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"
- John Greenleaf Whittier
------------
Remus. . . Remus. . . No, God. . .
Over and over Sirius called out, never sure whether the words made it all the way to his lips, or whether they got stuck in his brain, echoing off the inside of his skull. Another dementor glided by, and Sirius was once again struck by an onslaught of images in his mind.
------------
Sirius looks at the other side of the bed through hazy eyes. Remus is away again. Remus is always away. But sometimes there's a pot of coffee left for Sirius in the kitchen, and sometimes a fresh jar of jam in the refrigerator.
Sirius is often away, too, he concedes. He tries to bring home things for Remus, also, but there is never anything that makes sense. One time, he remembers, he just skipped his Order assignment and waited for Remus to return. Remus got angry, but Sirius said some things were more important, and Remus said no, they weren't, but gave in anyway.
But now Sirius walks into the kitchen and there is no coffee. So he makes a new pot and returns to the bedroom to dress, only to find the closet half-empty. Confused, he turns and opens Remus's chest of drawers - also empty.
And in the bathroom, only one toothbrush. Remus is gone. Not away. Gone.
'Wha-? What-?' His voice fails, his mind stops, and his fist collides with the wall.
------------
After the dementor passed, Sirius forced his mind to other things. He thought briefly of Harry. Harry had survived. Harry would live. His thoughts slid away, imagining Harry alone with no family, Voldemort miraculously reappearing to finish him off, and Sirius succumbed to the impending presence of the dementors.
------------
Sirius opens his eyes to see the bathroom floor through Padfoot's grey vision. His mind takes a minute to catch up. He had sat down and yelled - angry, lonely, worried, until his voice gave out altogether. And then he had forced such complicated emotions to the back of his mind and changed into Padfoot. His mind had wandered back through the Forbidden Forest and the best adventures their little pack had taken, and he willfully got lost among the trees.
He shifts back now, his human eyes dry and raw and his knuckles aching. He straightens up, coughs, and walks back into the bedroom. He stares into the closet and the top drawer of Remus' chest, which he had left open after his last go-through.
Sirius shakes his head and tries to collect himself. He shuffles cautiously into the living room and eyes the empty coffee table where Remus' photo album usually sits. Well, that's it, then. He's really gone.
------------
After some weeks, Sirius had stopped seeing James and Lily, frozen in death, flash behind his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes. It started to alternate with the empty bed, empty closet, empty table. Merlin, please. Have mercy. Just make me empty.
But if Merlin heard, he did not act. And dementors have no concept of mercy.
------------
Sirius turns and moves into the kitchen, almost without thinking. Coffee, he thinks, and the right corner of his mouth turns up just a hair as he sighs. 'If you can't fix it, no use disrupting your whole life for it,' Remus would have said. So, coffee, clean clothes, and who the hell knows what next.
Sirius reaches into the cupboard to pull down a mug, and he spies a slip of paper. He takes it in his hand, and his chest and throat tighten again as he recognizes Remus' handwriting.
Sirius-
I'm sorry there is no coffee made; I didn't know when you would return. The Order is not safe. It is better if you are alone, so that no one can learn your Secret. I am not, to my knowledge, a spy (though I can't prove it), but Voldemort may have methods of acquiring information that we don't know of yet. So I am gone. Do not look for me. Dumbledore has taken care of me. I will come back. I am sorry.
Please forgive me. Love,
Remus------------
Sirius wondered whether he cried out as often as the prisoners around him. He wondered whether his voice was distinguishable from the others at all. When there were particularly few dementors around, he managed to pull himself out of his own misery enough to listen to the others. He listened hard, longing to hear Death Eater voices, to know that the Order were making progress against Voldemort and his cronies. He recognized no one.
------------
Sirius doesn't know how long he has stared at the note or how many times he's read it. He takes the mug out of the cupboard, but before he can pick up the coffeepot, he hears a shatter against the other wall of the kitchen. He turns to see the mug in pieces all over the floor. Goddammit. He hasn't lost control of his magic like that in a long time. Not in a very long time.
He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and carefully aims a 'Reparo' at the shards, and Summons the mug back. He fills it halfway and sits down at the worktop.
God, Remus, why didn't you say anything before? Why didn't I tell you? Is this for real? Did you really leave because you were worried Voldemort might have you? Does he have you? Are you out running around with the other wolves just waiting to make your move?
Sirius can't say he's enjoyed the say-nothing tension around the flat lately, but Merlin's beard, it was better than this emptiness. At least he's had his mind made up for him whether to tell Remus about the switch. God, it's empty.
------------
More weeks came and went, uncountable in the confines of prison. When possible, Sirius thought about Harry and wondered how he was faring, but such hopeful thoughts were few and fading fast. Eventually he became numb to the anger and loneliness brought on by the dementors and his memories. So the dementors found a new source of nourishment-guilt.
------------
The wind is a bit nippy, but Sirius doesn't notice. His blood is boiling, and what does the weather matter anyway when your family are dead? James and Lily weren't blood relatives, but Sirius has long since abandoned the notion that family means blood. His feet pound the pavement as he approaches the crowd of people ahead.
Peter Pettigrew, you foul, lying piece of SHIT!' Sirius begins, his wand aimed between Peter's eyes. But Peter cuts him off, sounding louder and more confident than Sirius has heard in years.
Sirius! Sirius, how could you? James was our friend! What did Voldemort pay you that you would betray James and Lily? How dare-'
-and then there is an explosion so powerful that Sirius' body smacks the ground and he loses his breath. When he climbs back to his feet, there are people strewn about the sidewalk, bleeding, crying, and looking generally terrified. But there is no Peter.
That fucking rat gave them up and then killed himself so no one would know.
Sirius laughs.
------------
And so for a time all Sirius could think of was how it was his fault that James and Lily were dead. He should have done something different. He should have known. It was his job to know, to guard them. They were stuck inside and he was their protector. If only he'd kept his stupid fucking mouth shut and stayed their Secret Keeper.
------------
It's evening time and Lily is dancing slowly around the living room, little Harry nestled in her shoulder, as she tries to make him sleep. James is sitting on the sofa with the Daily Prophet (headline: Muggle Deaths Total 82 in September), though his mind seems to be elsewhere. Sirius is at the table, arguing with himself. He thinks Voldemort's people are onto him as the Secret Keeper. He thinks they're all in danger.
But who else can we trust?
He's wanted to ask Remus' advice, but that's half the problem, isn't it? Remus is away all the time, and mysterious. . . Sirius wants to know what he's up to, but Remus always says they shouldn't discuss their Order assignments. 'Don't trust anyone more than you have to' and all. And that horrible voice at the back of his head keeps wondering What if he doesn't talk to me because he's gone over? What if Voldemort's promised him something? What if werewolves are all Dark? What if. . .
'James?' Sirius starts talking before his mind can back out. 'I don't think I should be the Secret Keeper.'
------------
Peter's face was solemn in Sirius' memory of the night he took the oath. Why couldn't I see it? Why didn't I realize what he was up to? But even then, Sirius thinks, he could have told Dumbledore what they did. . .
------------
A few weeks later, Sirius sits in his flat, staring at the fire, feet up on the coffee table by Remus' photo album. James and Lily finally agreed to take Pete on as their Secret Keeper, and they performed the ceremony last night. Sirius is vibrating with the news, but he can't quiet the voice in his head, telling him to trust no one. Dumbledore, though. If I can't trust Dumbledore, this whole operation's gone to shit anyway.
He checks around the flat one more time, just to be sure he's alone (Remus is away. Surprise.), and then grabs a handful of Floo powder and tosses it into the grate. He speaks the name of the Order headquarters and ducks down to put his head in the flames.
'Hello?' He calls. 'Is anyone-ah, yes, hello Doge. How's it going? Is Dumbledore around?'
'No, sorry, he's out for a few days. Should be back tomorrow or the day after, I think,' replies Doge. 'Shall I tell him you were here?'
'Nah, that's fine.' Sirius tries to be nonchalant. 'I'll see him at the meeting on Sunday, so I'll check in then. Thanks!' And he steps back out of the fire, dusting the soot off his clothes and banishing all thoughts of this from his mind.
------------
Goddammit! That decision to wait replayed itself in Sirius' mind over and over, day after day. Yeah, ask him if I can have a quick word when he gets back? he could have said. I have an important message for him, he could have said. Would it have mattered, though? Would they have known the danger of entrusting their lives to that slimy rat? Would James and Lily have lived?
------------
Two days after that first discussion with James, Remus comes home again. Sirius is off assignment as well, and he wants a day of normal, wants that voice in his head to SHUT UP because this is Remus, dammit, and Remus is good. They sit in the kitchen and drink their coffee, but the conversation doesn't flow right, and Sirius can't figure out how to bring up the topic of James' Secret Keeper without Remus shutting off entirely. Later, he thinks.
Sirius talks Remus into a game of chess, hoping some discussion of 'strategy' or 'tactics' might pop up and give him a lead-in. But Remus' mind wanders, and neither of them can put much effort into a wooden war when there is so much of it around them. They both doze off on the couch, with just their feet touching, and strangely that's the most connected they've been in a long time.
After supper they eventually find themselves in bed. They kiss and they touch and they moan, but it's more out of habit than anything else. There is a little playfulness and lots of pleasure, but in the end, the tension between them is not resolved. They sleep uncomfortably.
Remus will only be home for a few more days, he says, and Sirius spends those days trying to convince himself to tell Remus about the new idea. The night before Remus is meant to leave, Sirius gives up and tells himself that the fewer people who know, the better.
------------
Sirius tore his own hair out while those days repeated themselves over and over in his mind. Every opportunity lost, every moment he had sat in silence or poked fun at Remus' socks, and pretended things were Right when they had clearly been Wrong. Why had Remus decided to leave? What might have happened if Sirius has been there? Would they have had their fight at last? Would they have trusted each other?
He couldn't have made it home any sooner than he did, though. And they probably wouldn't have fought. Or it probably wouldn't have fixed anything. Fucking hell. What if he'd kept his head in the ruins of James' house? What if he'd gone to find Remus then, to tell him what happened? Or Dumbledore? Or anyone?
Maybe at least it would have kept Sirius out of prison. Maybe even if he'd still gone to this hellhole, his friends would know he was innocent. Remus would know. But Remus didn't know. Remus might never know.
And after years of drowning in guilt came the suffocating years of regret.
-fin-