Isolation

"Ow. That hurt." Albus rubbed his right shoulder vigorously, the punch having the added effect of blurring his world a little more. He turned to glare at Jack, but the light of humour sparkling in his eyes was ill-hidden. "I'm a mortal man, and you're a Professional Beater. Watch it, will you?"

Jack cracked another witty one-liner, and Albus repressed a smirkish-smile, idly wondering if he was the bipolar one, not Jack. The faint burn of bile in his throat was a distant memory, cloaked by the pleasant, numbing flame of Firewhisky. Jack quickly turned to seriousness though, and Albus laid his head against the couch head-rest once more, this time facing Jack, his cheek resting against the rough material. Thoughts flew back to the last time he had received advice on this topic of conversation, and images of a red-cheeked, strained, shouting Neville came to mind. The smile, and along with it the somewhat pleasantness faded from Albus's face and mind, replaced by quiet resignation. Oh well. He shouldn't have bothered asking Jack at all. What other answer could be expected from the Triwizard Champion, Gryffindor idealist and dedicated member of the Order of the Pheonix?

Albus blinked. Well, certainly not that one.

"You have no bloody idea how much that means to me." The sentence was murmured, a bare movement of lips, perhaps muffled against the couch, unheard. Good. It wasn't meant to be heard in the first place. Albus stared somewhere at Jack's shoulder, gaze lost in the flowing river of water colour, objects blending into one another. Honesty slipped from his lips inadvertently, or maybe he had meant to say it all along, "It doesn't matter you know. I know I'm not going to leave it. It's the only thing I've ever been really good at. Felt at home with." He picked at a thread, somewhere poking out from the lump called a couch, "I wish I could leave the f*cking conscience behind though. Leave it or keep it, but do it wholeheartedly." Too long. He had lived with the fog of confusion, mist of conflict, hazing his mind for too long.

Jack should have realized he had not really meant to imply that he would enjoy being beaten up. Of course he had meant it simply theoretically. She really should have known that anyone who knew Jack would never seriously consider allowing her to hit him. "Sorry. I'd hate to break you. That'd make a better headline, huh? Dyllan/Potter Feud. Potter shattered... Literally."

She was glad to feel the change of atmosphere, and the altered attitude in the young man currently curling up on upon her guest bed. She was sure when Albus escaped her house - she was sure he would be clawing his way out come morning when the usual chaos returned - she would better process what had really occurred that night. She would probably be shaken by the situation thrust upon her, probably feel disillusioned by the truth finally coming out. In the end, it was not the worst confession, nor the most surprising really. But it was still something to process. But that would have to wait for a later time.

Albus said something, and Jack turned her head, trying to pick the syllables together. She did not get the exact words, but she could hear a sincerity, and a gratitude that made Jack briefly lock eyes with Albus before she grimaced a response. She looked back at the point where the walls met.

He continued on and Jack sucked in a breath. "As obnoxious as it is, a conscience is necessary. Who knows what you could do, who you would hurt - and so what if it would make it easier? If something is easy, it's not worth doing."

We really need to stop making up headlines. Its getting ridiculous. And sort of addictive.

But it was pleasant, in a way. It reminded him of people in school who had a 'thing'. Like an inside joke, or a particular nickname only one person called the other by, or a downright silly side-story they referred to by code-word in public. They would smirk, wink, laugh quietly to themselves, and walk away, leaving the others to gawk at them openly. Albus had always thought such people to be utter attention-seekers, not to mention idiots, but he could understand the attraction of such a thing now. It made them feel as though they shared a special bond with the other, something exclusive which no one else had.

But of course, thinking on such inane topics when serious things like consciences were being discussed was sheer idiocy, which Albus had no wish of being guilty of, so he turned his attention back to the red-haired ball of storm in front of him. His voice was almost gentle, "If something's not easy, its not worth doing. Are you even listening to yourself? If you didn't have that sort of attitude, you'd probably have less problems, and be more happy." Then his voice stopped dead in its tracks. Albus mentally smacked himself. He didn't normally have no-brainer moments, he was usually the epitome of caution and tact. Well, too bad for that, he had just said something that crowned all tactless and harsh things.

"Well...uh...what I meant was that harder things normally mean more effort, and when those things don't bear fruit, it pains like hell. Right now, I'm feeling reckless enough to toss out my conscience for good." He knew he didn't mean it though. He had weathered through all storms in the past, and no matter how much he simmered inside, angry and frustrated, nothing had been able to shake him from what he knew was....well, right. And nothing ever would.

(( There's a hint towards the future in this post, can you spot it? ))

((Yes.... Ugh! Future, show up now! XD ))

These sorts of conversations were hard for her. It was hard for Jack to pull herself together and act as though she were strong enough to be worthy to give advice. As though any words from her broken spirit could actually do any good for anyone else. What could come from her that could possibly be construed as constructive? Everything her life attempted to stand in the wake of destruction, in spite of destruction. If people really looked at her, they would realize she was not the one to press for help. It was absolutely terrible, and she had to sit through it and act as though she was the best girl for the job.

"Yes, I am listening to myself," Jack said, her words a bit strained and terse, as though she were forcing herself to not hit him upside the head and call him a mean name. "I've tried the whole 'Stick to what's safe, do what comes easiest' and... it sucks, and it's boring, and your brain shuts off, your heart fails, your spirit cries, and your hope calls out for help, falls over, and dies." As she continued on, she spoke more quickly, more emphatically, more bitterly than she intended.

It wasn't fair, because Jack rarely did what was easy. She had tried, but she didn't really know how. And yet she knew that if did it, anything, the easy way, she simply could not be who she was.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to listen to what he was saying. "I'd rather try for sweet fruit then get something nasty each time." She scoffed. "I hate metaphors. Look. I'd rather try for something that means something then chase after meaningless crap that goes against what I believe, because at least then I know I have the guts to do something I care about. I'd rather be tired out, exhausted, and broken hearted than... than... " She faltered. What made a broken heart justified? She didn't know. She really didn't. "Than be a coward... Than be something I don't believe in."

But the truth was, there were very few things she wouldn't do to get rid of this feeling that had long invaded her sense of happiness.

Uh...yes. That comment hadn't gone over too well, as expected.

That was the biggest understatement of the year. Jack looked like she wanted to break his nose.

She started talking rapidly, bitterly, and somehow Albus found his own wry smile joining hers. He knew what she was talking about. Hell, he knew. Wasn't that what he had been doing, what he had been feeling for the past nineteen years of his life?

Words escaped her mouth like bees in a hurry to get away, crashing, tumbling all over one another. "I know I have the guts to do something I care about." Albus flinched, even without Jack knowing, her words hit him straight in the gut. "......than be a coward." His jaw tightened, his hands flexed involuntarily and clenched the material of his jeans. "Than be something I don't believe in." He closed his eyes.

Enlightenment. Epiphany. Was this what it felt like? If it was, then it was highly overrated.

Merlin, how could have he been so stupid? He was the one responsible for how his life was, he was the one who had refused to take a step ahead and stuck to something safe, he himself was the reason why he felt so desolate, so unimportant, of course he should, what right did he have to demand remembrance and love and notice from other people if he had...he had...always done the safe thing..and never something worth doing? What right did he have to blame his brother and his mother and his family and his father? Did they hold him back?

Albus had never felt so small in his life.

Jack was shaking, minutely, beside him, and his hand reached out inadvertently to her shoulder, and grasped it gently. He didn't know what emotion colored his words.

"Its worth it. Take it from someone who's been on the other side. Whatever you've done, whatever you've landed up with in the end...its worth it."

She had gotten too emotional.

Jack did not express emotion. She did everything but express emotion. She did everything that she could to prevent such a thing. Nothing good came of telling people how you felt, or, even showing someone you felt more than what was easily ignored, easily forgotten. When she expressed how she felt, things got real, and people tried to care for her, tried to get involved. People tried to take from her load, tried to make it easier for her, and it was not fair. She deserved to suffer through on her own.

The silence that followed was not one Jack was very interested in interrupting, and yet, she wanted it to stop immediately, too. From the movement he made, Jack was led to wonder what effects her words had had on the younger Potter boy. Had she somehow offended him? And why? What about her particular words were jarring to Albus? Perhaps she didn't want to know.

He had been trying to assure her of otherwise, and perhaps she should have said she knew better than to think such a thing. Perhaps she should have said something reassuring to him. But she didn't say a word. Because nothing she said could make anything really different.

She felt his hand come to her shoulder and she let out a shaky breath, before turning to look at him. "You too. Holding on and dealing with a stupid conscience is worth it too."

What seemed like ages ago, Albus Potter had heard a broken confession and glimpsed desperate love in Jack Dyllan's eyes, and wondered what it felt like to care, to invest yourself in someone, if only by a jot.

Now, what seemed like millennia later, Albus placed an arm on Jack's shoulder, to comfort himself more than her, and realised that perhaps, after tottering and hesitating on the threshold for ages, now was the time to step out. Time shattered into infinitesimal shards, as two worn people decided that perhaps, they had the strength to trudge on for a few miles more.

She turned, and he looked into straight honest eyes, and affirmed, "I will. Always."

Then Albus turned away, and something tightened in his chest. His hand drew away from Jack's shoulder, and began plucking at a stray thread from the couch. That had felt....awkward, for some reason.

He forced out a quick, dry chuckle, "So now that both of us are equal on crying and confessing, lets seize the opportunity and talk business, shall we? Or were all those inspirational ideas about overthrowing the Ministry last time just fantasies?"

((Albus : What is this?! I'm feeling!!! ))

No, no, no. Jack was not good at this. Damn! How did she keep ending up in these weird touchy-feely situations where people bared all and attempted to forge something meaningful. Jack was not good with feelings - she hurt them much too often. She fumbled with them, dropped them, got them all dusty, and ended up running in the opposite direction once they were thoroughly ruined.

There was something too sincere in Albus' response. His eyes were too still on hers, too fixed. There was too much connection. Too much of the words depended on some strong bond between them, and strong bonds hurt too much when severed. Jack did not like where this was going.

And still, she swallowed and nodded. "Good."

He turned away first - which she preferred, because it ensured that she wasn't the one to weenie out. (These little things mattered to her.) She distracted herself by taking a big gulp of her drink. As she dropped the bottle, Albus spoke of something she was far more comfortable speaking about.

She swallowed down her drink and said, "Mmm! Yes! Please! Let's get to some anarchy talk!"

Albus blinked. Something had happened here. Something fleeting, something that brushed by him like an ephemeral trace of a scent brought by a momentary breeze, a scent he couldn't identify. The moment had come and gone, and he had been left still in its wake, unable to grasp it, with the vague feeling that it had been something important, a fear that it would never come again.

Albus shook his head again, messy raven locks fluttering from side to side. He was being introduced to far too many effects of Firewhisky today.

Right. Anarchy. Albus stretched his neck back, feline-like, to get out the kinks. Then he nodded. Now that I've realised I'm a loser and its all my fault..... "I was thinking.....about what we were discussing, that day. It was....." Albus worked his throat briefly, a slight trace of unease lingering on his tongue, "It wasn't that...bad of an idea. And since I've had enough of ideas without action....."

The thread on the cushion came out, with an involuntary vicious pull of his agitated hand. Albus stared at it, for a few seconds, then spoke in a calm and ....decisive?...voice, "What about some recruitment to our little idea?"

Jack knew that she was more confident about planning a Ministry take down than Albus was, but that might have been because Jack was so used to pretending that she was taking down everyone and everything anyway. Besides, she had set the Ministry back a year or two in certain ways when she had worked there. And being friends with the destructive people she knew, being in the Order... working against the Powers That Be was not a huge leap for her.

And this topic seemed so much safer.

Ooh. So he was sure he wanted to do it. That was great. And recruitment was the first step... But, now that Jack thought of it, she had a conflict of interest.

"I actually have a bit of a problem, though it could be an asset too. I..." She paused. "But you have to swear not to say anything about it, right?"