FIC: The Memories of a Life We've Yet to Live, PG-13, (2/5)
The Memories of a Life We’ve Yet to Live - Part TwoPairing: Lily/James
Chapter: 2/5
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK. The first title from part one is from Cinematic Orchestra’s ‘To Build a Home’ and the title from the second is Stars’ ‘Heart’.
Summary: For James, it had all passed too quickly: one moment he was trying to win Lily’s heart, the next he had it, she became his wife and had his baby. But then just as quickly as he had won her over, a monster came knocking at his door, wanting to take it all away. Screaming and unwilling to accept his fate, he wishes that he could have prevented it all.
Meanwhile, in another world, a Seventh Year James stares into the Mirror of Erised and encounters something that will change everything, and force him to make the hardest decision he will ever have to make.
Part One/
+++
Part II - Growing old so young
James Potter is rudely awakened in the middle of the night by Sirius Black jumping on his bed, calling out his name.
He lets out a groan and scrambles for his glasses. “Padfoot, what the fuck? It’s-,” he finds his watch. “Three in the morning.”
“And you’re sleeping?” Sirius accuses. “You’re taking this Head Boy gig far too seriously.”
As usual, James can’t tell whether Sirius is being serious or not and fixes him with a glare.
“Anyway, remember how in second year we stumbled across that mirror? And then we couldn’t find it again? Yeah well, I found it!”
James lets out another groan and drops his head back on his pillow. “Don’t care,” he mumbles.
A moment’s silence and then-
Whoosh!
He feels his duvet flying in the air.
“Prongs, this may be the only chance we have to see this mirror again! The only chance. And since being Head Boy is slowly eating up all of your fun quota, don’t you think you should have one last late-night adventure before you forget what fun is?”
“It’s a mirror, Padfoot. A sodding magical mirror.”
“Exactly, my dear friend.”
+++
He does it because part of him feels guilty about ‘losing his sense of fun’ as Sirius would put it (or ‘becoming responsible’ as Remus would say.) Both he and Sirius hide under James’s invisibility cloak that Sirius had borrowed earlier, and together they go in search of the mirror.
It’s in a room that looks like an abandoned classroom, but James doesn’t remember ever seeing this it before, though his brain is still too sleepy to care.
Tentatively, Sirius slips out of the cloak and heads towards the mirror and looks up at the engraving on the top panel.
“Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi,” he reads. “Still no idea what the fuck that means. Bet it’s Welsh.” He turns to look at James. “I didn’t look into it. Thought I’d wait for you to come. Revel in our glory together and all that.”
The last time the two of them had found this mirror, they had both seen the same thing: the both of them popular and successful Quidditch/pranksters/Exploding Snap players/entrepreneurs/marauders of the castle. They’d seen the same when standing together or apart, and had been convinced that the mirror was some kind of window to an alternate universe. He and Sirius had been an impressed; the idea of a world where the both of them had attained the dream of every twelve-year-old wizard was tantalising and they’d sought the mirror soon after, in hope that they could find a way to communicate with their otherworldly selves and ask them the secrets of their success.
In the years to come, as they slowly achieved each of the things they’d seen their other selves possess, they would talk about the mirror, contemplating its true nature. Both had grown sceptical that the mirror showed them an alternate world, and there had been rumours of a mirror that showed people’s true hearts’ desire, which was more disappointing than their original idea, but more realistic. They’d sought it many times in order to prove or disprove either theory, but had never been able to find it again.
And now they stood before it, wondering what their reflection would show.
“Go on then,” James urges. “What can you see?”
“Ten galleons it shows me as a rock star.”
James snorts. As if that was ever going to happen.
Sirius exhales and stares into the mirror. As his gaze becomes more focused, the smile on his face begins to fade. After a few moments, Sirius turns away and James is almost afraid to ask.
“Well?” he says, anyway.
Sirius doesn’t look at him. “Definitely not a rock star,” he murmurs, and James instantly knows that whatever Sirius has seen, it has to do with Sirius’ family. He seldom talks about it, but James knows his friend well enough to note the longing expressions he gets on his face every time he sees James with his family. Sirius has never had a loving family before, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn for one.
“I’m just going to-,” he motions to the window. “I’ll wait for you, yeah?”
Silently, James watches Sirius retreat to the window and stare blankly out of it. He wonders whether he should say anything, but knows Sirius hates anything that might be misconstrued as pity.
Hesitantly, he wonders whether he should look into the mirror. He never truly cared about finding it to see what it might hold; rather it was the challenge of finding it again in the first place that had intrigued him. If the mirror did indeed show one’s true desires, then James has no idea what it will reveal. He has no raw, burgeoning desires, no great heartaches, no grand career ambitions and he certainly has no real need to find out what he truly wants. Part of him suspects that his greatest desire would be to see a certain red-headed girl naked, and though the sight would instantly please him, the idea that his true desire is not only shallow, but nothing remotely ambitious would disappoint him. Unless, of course, the mirror is actually a reflection of an alternate universe and Lily Evans is his girlfriend.
With a sudden compulsion to prove that his life is a bit more substantial than that, he uncloaks himself and walks towards the mirror and looks up at the inscription and reads the first word.
“Erised.” Desire.
James has many desires, most of them revolving around Lily, but there are other ones too: the desire to be a worthy Head Boy, the desire to help Remus through all of his tough times, his desire to be a good enough family for Sirius and his desire to not have to live in a world where those of Muggle-birth are treated as scum. But these desires are attainable, not impossible ones that can only be envisaged in a mirror.
Suddenly a little nervous, he stares into the mirror. Instantly the mirror changes, but not in the way he remembers. When he had previously looked into the mirror, he had changed but the room he was standing in had remained the same. This time, the background grows cloudy.
For a moment, he struggles to make sense of the image. The background is different but he remains the same. Was that supposed to be a desire? But on closer inspection, he sees that his reflection is different: gaunt, more stressed-looking, agitated, slightly older...and was his reflection trying to get his attention?
The time before, his and Sirius’ reflection had waved at them both merrily. Now, his reflection is waving his arms, trying to get him to pay attention. And he is also mouthing James’ name.
James is instantly unnerved; what he is seeing isn’t some glimpse of his heart’s greatest desire. No, this is more than that. This is eerie and unsettling.
He’s about to call out for Sirius when the pleading look on his reflection’s face grows desperate. Curious and a little bit concerned, James finds himself pressed up against the mirror, his nose almost touching it and his hands pressed against the glass, wondering who exactly he is looking at and why he’s so distressed.
The James in the mirror swallows, looking a little calmer now that he has James’ full attention, but still very much agitated. Slowly and deliberately, the man in the mirror places his hands against each of James’ and aligns his face opposite his and it’s odd: James almost feels his reflection’s touch. He peers at himself, though his glasses make it awkward, and he sees his mirror-self studying him just as intently as he’s looking at him. This James is definitely a couple of years older than him, though with the same glasses and the same messed up hair. But there is a different air about this man: he seems less carefree, a little wiser, a lot more pained and very much tortured.
Is this who I become? he asks himself, and wonders what could possibly happen to him -if this really is him- to cause such anguish.
Their eyes lock - and then the strangest thing starts to happen: the James in the mirror starts talking to him.
+++
James rapidly blinks a few times, trying to compose himself whilst processing what his mirror-self had said.
He turns to look at Sirius, who is still brooding out the window and seems to have heard none of what James’ reflection had said.
“Oi, Padfoot, you ready?” James manages to ask, though it’s hard; he feels uneasy and incredibly nauseous.
Sirius turns around to look at him.
“Yeah, I guess. What did you see then? You as an international Quidditch star with Lily draped over your arm?”
James laughs uneasily. “Something like that.”
Donning the cloak again, the two of them head back.
With one final glance, James turns to look at the mirror. The last time he and Sirius had looked into the mirror, the image of what they had seen disappeared when they weren’t directly in front of the mirror. Although James is by now a few feet away, he sees his mirror form staring right at him (though James is wearing his cloak), his hands still pressed against the glass and tears streaming down his face.
+++
James, you have to listen to me. I know that none of this is going to make sense, but I have something really important to tell you. I am you. Or I will be you. Something terrible will happen to you and those you love. I’ve come back... I need... I have to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I need to... I need to explain what happens, but it’s too complicated for words. I will show you somehow, I will show you what is to come and James, you must pay close attention to what I show you. In time, you will have to make a decision. It will be the most difficult decision you will ever have to make, but it might be the only one that saves them.
+++
James doesn’t remember walking back to the Common Room, or Sirius heading off to his dormitory whilst he headed to the Head Boy room down the corridor. He doesn’t remember falling back into bed or taking off his glasses. He only remembers feeling confused and unsettled, as though nothing is ever going to be okay for him again.
He falls asleep the instant his head touches his pillows and is besieged with flashes of memories that aren’t his own. Recognisable vivid green eyes in a montage of emotions: angry, irritated, surprised, accepting, interested, loving and passionate; a flash of red hair and a glimpse of a familiar face in their shared study, in the Common Room, down a corridor; arguing furiously and then working in companionable silence; her opinion changing and her guard being let down; a date on a snowy day, full of celebration, glee and her full acquiescence; stolen kisses in the mornings, in an empty classroom and just because; legs entwined and skin blazing amid searing kisses and loving touches; dancing together at the leavers’ ball, giddy, intoxicated, in love; the next and final day of school and the end of an era, but she is right there by his side as they give their parting speeches; a different start, a new life, together, forever; a wedding, the brightest day against the gloom of the future; a madman terrorising the wizarding world with his agenda; the rise of his supporters and the banding together of those who oppose him; fighting him once, twice, three times and almost coming close to dying; the birth of their baby with her eyes and his hair; the two of them so happy, but so, so scared of what the future will bring; a damning prophecy that makes it all the worse; the three of them forced into hiding - tough times, fear and frustration; snatched moments of happiness and a little boy that makes things all the easier to bear; a day like any other that ends it all; that madman in their home, wards broken, their vulnerability exposed; her screams, her fear, their baby; his attempts to protect them, to ward that monster off; his wand left behind, his futility, his despair, his demise and his everlasting failure.
James wakes up in a cold sweat. What the hell was that?
Echoes of the dream are left with him and he stands up, paces, stares out the window before coming back to his bed and sitting at the end of it, it an attempt to shake it off.
He finds it hard to believe that his dream was anything but an extension of his imagination. But he’s dreamt of Lily before: lust-filled, teenage-boy dreams and ones where she finally, finally returns his affections; he’s never had a dream where they have a future together or a baby boy or where he dies trying to save her.
James shakes his head in disbelief. The idea of them sharing a future is preposterous. Though he wishes for it, there could never possibly be a scenario in which the two of them are together. It would be impossible. And for the two of them to be married and have a child together? Positively insane!
His mind is suddenly plagued with flashes of green and the face of a man people call Voldemort. Voldemort’s putrid hate of Muggles and the gathering of followers is something that greatly concerns and worries James. If he’s truthful, it scares him too. But he has no reason to dream of him. Hogwarts currently provides a safe haven from that monster.
He thinks of what the James in the mirror had said: Something terrible will happen to you and those you love.
Is that what he had meant? That he would die at the hands of this man? And that Lily and their... their ‘child’ would die too? It makes him cold just thinking about it.
There is no way that the James he had seen had been real. That James had described himself as from the future, but it isn’t possible. People just didn’t travel from the future and find themselves in a mirror, talking to their younger self and warning them of what is to come.
No, there has to be some other explanation - a cruel joke, a magical trick or creature he’s never heard of messing with his mind.
Later on tonight, he’ll go and find the mirror and prove himself right.
+++
A little out of breath, James rushes into the Head study.
“You’re late,” Lily declares without looking up from her work.
In the few meetings with Lily that he has attended, James usually replies to Lily’s remarks about his punctuality with some sort of witty retort - despite promises to himself to stop - but instead mumbles a hasty apology. Surprised about a missed attempt to goad her, Lily stops writing and looks up.
“Are you feeling okay, Potter?” she casually enquires.
“Yeah, never better,” he lies, going to sit at the desk facing opposite hers. He doesn’t tell her the reason he’d been late is because he’d been freaking out about a dream that featured her prominently; it wouldn’t exactly endear her to him.
Still confused by his reticence, Lily eyes him carefully. “Shall I go through my list of things we need to sort out?”
James nods and Lily begins reeling off her list. He stops listening almost immediately, becoming far too entranced by her to concentrate on a word she’s saying.
It’s a well known fact that amongst Hogwarts’ students (and possibly staff) that James fancies Lily. He’d made this entirely obvious since fourth year. No one understands completely why - why just one girl? And why her so whole-heartedly? No one would dispute that Lily isn’t attractive: she’s beautiful, she’s kind-hearted (well, not to him) and popular, plus she is clever too. But to him, it’s a little more than that: it’s the dedicated way she applies herself to absolutely everything; the way she takes her time to know everyone she meets; her smile (seldom directed at him) and her laugh (never at his jokes). It’s the colour of her hair and the way it catches the light and the green of her eyes that renders him breathless with their intensity; it’s the way she doesn’t make it easy for him and the fact that though he can figure out a lot of people, Lily isn’t one of them and James is riveted by her. Unfortunately for James, Lily isn’t too keen on him.
Though their increased time together means she is starting to thaw just a little, Sirius says it’s still a lost cause and can’t fathom why James is so invested in her. It’s hard to explain to a seventeen-year-old boy about being so drawn to a girl and feeling as though she’s uncontrollably the centre of his world when James himself doesn’t quite understand it.
“Potter, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” Lily suddenly demands.
“Yes,” he instantly replies. “We need to sort out patrol rotas for the next week, approve or reject proposals of new student clubs and meet with newly-elected leaders of existing clubs. We need to organise a meeting with Dumbledore at some point later this week, hold a meeting with our prefects and see how they’re progressing and whether they’ve had any problems with other students. And last but not least, we need to support and reassure the younger years that have been saying they feel bullied by older students, particularly Slytherins.” Out of habit, he fixes her with a lazy, smug smirk even though his heart isn’t really in it.
The annoyance is evident on Lily’s face. “Why do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
She gestures at him. “Act as though you’re deliberately trying to vex me. The whole barely-paying-attention to me thing, the constant goading and smirks - I had hoped that now that you’re Head Boy that kind of behaviour would have ceased, but you’re just the same!” Her eyes are flashing with anger now, and her fingers flex as though she’s about to vent out everything she’s been holding back about him. “Do you even realise that you can be mean, that sometimes what you say is hurtful?”
James looks at her agape. She thinks I’m mean?
Lily looks at her watch and stands up. “I’m leaving; I have somewhere to be,” she announces. “We’ll continue our meeting later.”
“Hey Evans, wait-,” he begins. But she’s out of the door in an instant and James is left in stunned silence.
+++
Mirror incident cast firmly aside in his mind, James focuses on Lily’s opinion of him as he sits through Transfiguration.
Am I really mean to her? he wonders, and begins to think about his previous interactions with her. Before fourth year, they’d barely exchanged more than a few words. He’d noticed her existence before then, but fourth year had seen a transformation within himself that made him fully aware of Lily’s existence. It had taken him a while to muster the courage to ask her out and when he finally did, she shot him down and he’d been heartbroken. Though in hindsight, he shouldn’t have put her on the spot and asked her out in front of his friends. The next week, he tried again, alone this time but using passing students as a security blanket. Her irritation had been palpable and she rejected him again. He tried a few more times with the same result, until her rejections had drained all his courage. But to save face, he continued asking her out, though this time with the certainty that he’d be rejected and turned it into something of a joking matter. He’d ask her out every opportunity he got, in front of his friends, in front of hers, in the most inopportune moments and in the most creative ways, relishing the looks of disgust on her face. He’d feed off the laughs he got from Sirius and various other classmates and loved using Lily to pander to an audience. He never stopped to consider the humiliation he must have put Lily through. He denied to himself that the real reason he goaded Lily like this was because at some point, he’d put a wall around his heart to protect it from her rejections and him continually goading her was proof to himself that her dislike of him meant nothing. He gave her lascivious looks and sleazy comments because they provoked a reaction from her, and he lived off her passionate reactions. They had become habitual and instinctive, and although he’d told himself to rein them in when he became Head Boy, they were a hard habit to break.
His eyes seek Lily out. She’s sitting at the front of the class, her head’s tilted to the side and her long ponytail swings gently every time she moves. Even when he can’t see her face she’s captivating.
Scenes from his dream invade him again. He pictures Lily’s face where she’s smiling at him and the two of them are having a whale of a time together. The both of them acting like that with each other is so far removed from the two that sit in Transfiguration lesson, and James starts to wonder what he wants from Lily. He likes her, almost imagines that he’s in love with her and becomes enraptured by her simplest movements, and yet he’s unable to believe that those feelings can be requited. So he uses snarky remarks and witty retorts as armour. He isn’t above public humiliation and asking her out any time of the day (including in front of ‘friends’ that she feels the need to defend), because in his immaturity, he’s unable to see that he’s hurting the one person he isn’t supposed to. Or maybe he does see, but part of her wants her to endure some of the hurt he feels she puts him through. Deep down, he knows his fixation on Lily is unhealthy and damaging, not just for him but to her. James also yearns to be a worthy Head Boy, and to be that, surely he had to redefine his relationship with the Head Girl?
In a dream, or in a mirror or alternate reality, James Potter was able to earn Lily’s respect and affections and got everything he wanted. If James works on it, if he tries his best and re-evaluates his attitude, attaining Lily’s affections might be a possibility.
He continues to think about this fantasy, desperately trying not to recall what happened at the end of the dream.
+++
In the middle of the night he puts on his cloak. James had sat on the end of his bed for what seemed like hours, debating or not whether to go in search of the mirror, but now he’s made his decision, needing to put an end to all this uncertainty.
He finds the mirror easily enough. It’s in the same place it was the night before.
James goes to stand in front of the mirror and waits for his other self to appear. For a few moments he sees nothing but his own, normal reflection, and just as he begins to think that the James in the mirror had been nothing more than his imagination, the mirror begins to cloud.
His mirror self appears, looking tired but not surprised to see him.
“James,” he whispers, and it’s still strange to hear his voice uttered from a mouth that’s not his own.
James doesn’t bother with small talk. “I need to know exactly who you are,” he demands. “I need you to tell me exactly what this whole thing is about and I need you to tell me why it’s happening. And then I need you to tell me that none of this is true, that this is all some ridiculous joke.”
The man in the mirror deliberates, and James can see him weighing up exactly how much he should divulge.
“The explanation isn’t going to be easy,” his other self warns.
James shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
He watches as his other self sighs. The James in the mirror steps as close to the glass as possible and fully locks his brown eyes on James’ identical ones.
“I wasn’t lying what I said to you the other day. I truly wish I was. The person you see is indeed yourself, but I am who you will be in a very short number of years.”
James shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s not possible. You can’t travel back in time unless you have a time turner, which,” James looks at his counterpart’s neck, “you don’t.”
Grimness enters the mirror man’s eyes. “Indeed,” he notes. “You are right. And for one to use a time turner, they must be alive. I regret to inform you, that is not the case with me.”
James freezes, his breathing halts and his hands begin to shake uncontrollably. This man had hinted at his - their? - demise and James had even dreamt about it. But to have it said out aloud is ten thousand times worse. He’s never been one to consider his own mortality, but he’s always imagined that he’d die old.
“I don’t know how I got here. I don’t know how I came to be standing in front of you behind this mirror. All I know is that I...I...,” his other self can’t seem to say ‘died’. “All I know is that things came to an end,” he says, trying again. “And just as things were ending, I wished desperately that I could have stopped this from happening. I wanted to go back and change things, yearned for it so much and desired it so greatly, and the next thing I knew I was here, waiting for you. Truth be told, I wanted to go back to just before we were attacked, but here I am instead. I can’t rewind what has happened to me, but I can stop the very same thing from happening to you.”
There’s something in his counterpart’s eyes, something great and all-consuming. It’s urgency, he realises, a pleading to change things. But James doesn’t quite understand what he’s being asked to do; his seventeen year-old self can’t quite grasp the enormity of it all.
“I still don’t understand!” he cries.
His older self nods in understanding. “You know who He Who Shall Not Be Named is, don’t you?”
James looks at him as though he’s mad. “Of course, every wizard knows who he is.”
“Then you know how big a threat he is.”
James nods.
“In a couple of years’ time, he will be an even greater threat, more so that you can possibly imagine. He will go after your family. He will chase after your friends. He will hound you all because you won’t submit to his ideals. And in the end, he will kill you.”
“No!” His body quakes with denial. Voldemort is nothing to do with James. He is a madman, but a madman that is the Ministry’s problem to solve. He’s a madman they can handle - it’s just taking time. When he finishes school in under a year, nobody will even remember who Voldemort is. “I don’t believe that! He can’t!”
There’s pity in the older man’s eyes. “I didn’t believe it either.”
James begins pacing frantically. “Why me?” he demands. “Why me specifically? What’s so special about me, about my-,” he can’t quite say family, “that he goes after us?”
His mirror self ponders this. “He Who Shall Not Be Named is a powerful man who seeks absolute power. His quest for that power makes him paranoid. In a way we both aren’t special to him - he mercilessly kills anyone who seeks to stop him, and believe me, I tried and so will you. But a prophecy was told that stated someone would be able to completely overthrow him. He found out who that person would be.” The James in the mirror stops talking and James sees his mirror self suddenly overcome with emotion. So far his other self had been able to maintain composure whilst explaining everything to him, but suddenly all that is lost. The man’s gaze is averted, his breathing is heavy and his fists are clenched. When he looks up again, James sees his eyes are full of tears.
“That person is my - our - son. I don’t need to tell you who the mother is, nor her fate.”
Because I already know, he thinks. Suddenly he feels sick, like his heart is being quenched and shredded. To have his worst fears confirmed is absolutely horrifying and he finds his knees giving way. In his head, he can still hear her screaming and when he looks into the eyes of his older self, he can tell that James is hearing the same thing too, that he’s never stopped hearing it since the moment it happened. His own eyes fill with tears just imagining her demise. He may be young, but he doesn’t need to be a grown man to be utterly stricken at the prospect of someone he likes, possibly loves, dying. His own death he can handle, but not her death, not the death of the son he doesn’t even know yet.
For a few minutes, neither James speak, instead they share their grief.
“Weren’t we protected from him?” he finally asks.
“Yes,” the older James says. “We were in a safe house and guarded by the Fidelius Charm. Peter was our Secret Keeper, but something went terribly wrong that night.” The look on his face suggests to James that what this is confuses his older self immensely. “Somehow, He Who Shall Not Be Named found out about Peter. I don’t know if he tortured the information out of him or whether we were betrayed, but on that unsuspecting night we met our downfall.”
James pictures his friend in his head. Peter, with his lack of confidence and shyness, but still a great friend. He can’t bear to think about what happened to him that night.
Another silence falls and James tries to collect his thoughts. He thinks about Lily and about the fact they have a child together and he shakes his head in denial. “Lily can’t stand me,” he points out. “The likelihood of us having a child together is pretty low and thus the prophecy is null and void.”
For the first time, he watches as his older self smiles. The smile doesn’t quite reach the eyes, but it’s a smile nonetheless. “No, she can’t stand you,” he concedes. “But she will, given time. Seventh Year is a turning point for the both of you. Your role as Head Boy and Girl will draw the two of you together.”
“Really?” his voice is barely a whisper, the hope and the wistfulness undisguised.
The James in the mirror nods and his younger self watches as a myriad of emotions cross his face: longing, regret and lastly grief. James can only imagine how painful it is to love someone so fully and then expire with the knowledge that you couldn’t save them. But the man in the mirror, he knows too well what it’s like.
“You know what I’m going to tell you next, don’t you?”
From his kneeling position, James nods. It’s there, hanging in the air. Of course he knows.
“In my dying moment, I wanted to change my destiny, her destiny, his destiny. The next thing I knew, I was here.”
“You want me to change things,” he states.
His other self smiles sadly.
“But how?” James demands.
“It’s for you to find out; I can’t be the one to make that decision for you. James, I don’t know how long I will be here for you, but I don’t think it will be forever. I want to be able to help you, I really do. I just don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to.”
James remains confused and at that moment, he feels something press down on his shoulders: a heavy burden and a responsibility he’s not ready to accept, and he’s glad he’s sitting down because he feels legless. What is he being asked to do? Tell Dumbledore? Warn Peter?
His gaze meets his mirror self. Even now, there’s still some doubt that remains and he’s sure that at any moment that he’ll wake up from this nightmare, because there’s no way this can be happening.
The look on the older James’ face suggests he knows exactly what he’s thinking.
“You know what the worst thing is about what happened to us, James?”
He shakes his head.
“That it was all for nothing. The fighting and the hiding. Living our lives on pause and in constant fear. In the end, he still got us; he still won.”
James stares in despair at the man in front of him, the man he will become. He notes his frustration, his never-ending grief and his underlying anger. He looks at himself and he wonders when he became such a defeatist.
Part three