where do we go from here

Jack had technically obeyed the law. Technically. So technically, the Ministry could not be mad.

But she had also openly lied about Nemo Omara. She had heard a rumor that they had tracked down a letter from his daughter Mell who had claimed that he had actually reunited with his ex, Mell’s mother, and that she was helping him through some of the usual issues. Jack could argue that it did not prove that she was not attached to Nemo legally, but she knew she had made too much of a stink in the Ministry over the years for them to let go of her publically humiliating them. On top of that, she had blazed a trail for others looking to escape the marriage law.

Jack’s good friend Teddy had passed on sensitive information at risk of punishment. If she wasn’t careful, she was looking at Azkaban.

She had reached out to Fred. She did not yet have access to some of the more legal type documents in the Ministry, as she had been focused mostly on stopping the terror of James Blood. He was supposed to be meeting her soon with more information (or hopefully her freedom) but in the meantime, she had been left to do something very dangerous indeed : think.

Months ago, her focus had been on rebellion with Albus Potter. Now she was facing the challenges of domestic life : who got the majority of the covers, who took Sunny to daycare, who’s turn it was to get takeout. She and Max were not married, really. They did not have romance, they were not sharing bank accounts, and they had in no way consummated their marriage. But they were working on being partners, because they had to ride out this whole act together. And a cool die effect was… they had sort of become friends throughout the whole thing. Or something.

Jack sat at one of the stone benches in the Garden of Solace, facing the entrance. She had taken the ring off of her necklace and her head was down as she examined it. Fred had scoffed at her in his letter, refusing to believe she had actually gone through with eloping for the sake of escaping Azkaban. She understood why – it was out of character for Jack to obey in any sense. She wanted to see the look on his face when she showed his the ring. It looked nothing like a typical ring. There was no diamond, no pearl, no ornate swirls and curves in the metal. A thin, gold band. Jack would never admit it out loud, but she had grown fond of it.

She had never tried it on. She rolled it between her thumb and forefinger. Some girls spent most of their life in pursuit of slipping one of these things on her finger. It had been a relatively simple task for her to complete. She slid it onto her finger. Was there supposed to be some magic that overtook her when she put it on? There was an odd tingle in her spine, but she chalked it up to the metal being cold. No. She was glad her goals had surpassed obtaining a piece of metal.

((OOC: Long post.....forgive me))

There were three levels of exasperated to Lysander’s voice. First, when he was all Buddhist monk and smiling sedately, but you had to listen real close to distinguish the bite to the words. Second, when the lips curled in and the smile grew wider and the teeth shone- and the voice made no effort to resist the strain on the last syllables. Third, when the smile disappeared completely, and the words started to mingle all together, everything managing to sound like you-are-an-utter-pillock-Fred-Weasley. Lys barely held it together on the third one.

“Why. Is the House shaking like it’s going to Fall Down.” You could practically hear the Capitalization in every bitten word.

This was Level Four.

“My ringtone.” Fred blinked sweetly and curved his mouth to the side. “And nothing’s falling, don’t be melodramatic.”

His best mate’s nostrils flared.

“Sorry.” Fred managed to get out before slamming the ‘receive’ button. The glass of water just adjacent to the phone stopped quivering.

“Now talk.”

“Talk?” Fred’s eyebrows furrowed, some part of his mind still warily watching for any sign of sparks exiting Lysander’s sky blonde hair. He half suspected Veela blood sometimes, what with the temper. Even if he was the only one apparently irritating enough to coax Lys to show it.

“Talk on the Phone.”

Back to the capitalization again. Oops. “Right,” Fred nodded more fervently than he ever had, except in front of Molly Weasley- and held the device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ceci- stop, that’s not suppo- oh, hello Fred.” Albus’ last three words were a picture perfect study of composure. Which of course meant, that it was false. Fred admittedly didn’t know his cousin all that well, maintaining that little detail was Albus’ fault, but he knew him that much, at least.

He ignored it. Confronting him on it would yield nothing. “Want anything?”

The pause on the other end of the line was studied. “Why do you assume I want anything?”

“Because you would never call me otherwise.”

There was no pause after those words, not even a second lapsed before the reply came. “Of course that isn’t true.”

Fred almost smiled. Damn, his cousin was good. If he didn’t have the image of hard green eyes staring up at him from behind bars, he might almost have believed the words too. “How’d you make it out of the cell, then?”

The change in subject obviously came as a surprise. But Albus hardly stuttered on the reply. “A friend helped.”

“Which frie-“ Fred came to an abrupt stop, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Then in the same light tone he continued, “What was that?”

Not a beat missed. Not a beat. “What was what?”

Fred resisted the urge to sigh in irritation. In a painfully patient voice, “That, Albus. The distinctly female voice in the background who’s been trying, rather in vain I presume, to gain your attention.”

“That’s Cecilia.” The blasé calmness to that voice was almost insulting.

“Do not tell me that in all these years you’ve actually managed to pull-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fred.” Albus’ voice was brusque enough to cut. “She’s a child.”

“You know, I don’t think I missed this prick version of you at all.” Fred continued rather blithely. “Guilt drain out so soon?”

He relished the silence that came after, too, too much.

“Anyways,” Fred darted a quick glance at the smooth brown dial on his wrist. “I need to meet Jack in another five minutes in the Garden of Solace. So whatever you need, say it now.”

Albus refused to comply. Always was too stubborn for his own darned good. “Why?” To his credit, the one word question sounded less brisk now.

“Need my help, apparently. With the whole false marriage story she concocted before the Ministry, it isn’t a surprise. I don’t know why she bothered though-“

“You’ll handle it though, won’t you-“

“-seeing as she already got married anyway.” Fred finished, then realised his cousin had said something in between. “You said something, Albus?”

Silence.

“Al?”

A slow, exhaled breath. “I need you to reinforce the wards on my flat immediately. The best you can give. I have visitors over.”

“Who-“ No use. The click on the end of the line said that the call had already been terminated.

Fred let his hand, and the phone enclosed within it, fall to his side. Visitors. As in, the plural. A part of him wondered if Cecilia’s mother was one of them.

That thought process had to be halted by a more important one though. Albus had seemed in an awful hurry to end the call. So much, that in his haste he had forgotten that Fred could not come over immediately, because he had to meet Jack.

Except……..Albus Potter never forgot things like that.

Fred bent his head, fringe flicking into his eyes and across his vision, and smiled. Then, visualising the Apparition coordinates of the London apartment Albus had hoarded himself into, disappeared with a crack.


~


Human minds will always be a mystery.

Albus would never pretend to understand how Muggle psychologists claimed to actually know how human minds functioned. If he didn’t understand his own mind, how could he even think of comprehending someone else’s?

This, for instance. This. How was there any logic to it? Any……vaguely…..understandable reason?

This, standing concealed behind one of the various marble plaques, in the shadow. Standing and watching, for twenty minutes. He had almost forgotten he was capable of movement, by the time Jack stopped fiddling with her ring and actually put it on.

When the little gold ring finally slipped on though, it was like his limbs had unfrozen, and could move again. The breaths refused to come though.

“It suits you.”

((Never apologize. <3 ))

Fate had always been cruel to Jack when it came to timing. It had been absolutely rigid in its scheduling of the big events in her life. Happiness was always followed by tragedy, and tragedy was always deepened by the struggles of her loved ones. Very rarely was she allowed recovery time, and even more rarely did Fate ever allow her to keep the people closest to her separate from her own bullshit. Lately, things had gone slowly. She thought that maybe Fate had moved on from her and was working on f*cking up someone else’s life.

It seemed it had not forgotten her.

A voice roused her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Albus Potter standing in the middle of the restaurant. With a jerk, she yanked the ring off of her finger and pinned it down onto the table before her. Her heart was suddenly pounding – this is what embarrassment looked like then? There was not enough blood in her pale face to form a blush. She just stared at Albus in surprise, as though there was no possible way he could be there. She pulled the expression off of her face and swallowed it down, keeping her eyes on him as though watching an opponent in a game of chess as she calculated her next move.

She flattened her hand over the ring and glanced down at her hand. Why had she tried the stupid thing on? Why had she thought to try it on here, now? Why not back at home, where the worst person to catch her would be Sunny, or Max himself? She was a real idiot sometimes, and she was not sure she would stop kicking herself about it anytime soon. It had been a very juvenile, very naïve, very idiotic move to make.

She had not seen Albus since she had seen him in his cell. She had assumed he was either still there, or still completely uninterested in seeing her. She had tried to tell herself not to think about him, or their situation, at all. She had left the reins in his hands, so there was no reason to consider where or what happened to the two of them in that case. It was all up to him, and it was all out of her hands. As much as she told herself this, though, Jack would never feel okay with allowing herself to be content with situations outside of her control. It was not in her nature to believe that things would always work out for the better.

She stared at him, finally finding her voice. “I wasn’t sure. It’s strange.” She paused. “You’re out.”

In the second that she took to turn her head, craning it over her neck, eyes pinning him down; Albus lived through an entire year.

Peeking over trashcans. Discussing homicide of journalists. Opening up secrets like zipping out a body bag. Bottles of Firewhisky, and thunderous rain. Drawing up plans of rebellion like a pair of children, heads nestled together, doodling on old scraps. Guitars and salad and a date- that ruined everything. Whispering. Screaming. A confession that threatened to throttle, choke to death something that might never have existed. Lies. Truth. A rejection that reduced them to emotionally inept cripples. Cold, iron bars and arguments on morality. Realisation.

For two seconds of nostalgia that struggled to claw back in, digging in hooks and suckers- Albus didn't care for consequences, or logic, or reason. The desire rose, swift and quenching and overpowering and weakening- and he wanted it back. All of it. Yes, the swirl of confusion and doubt and the pain that sometimes grew harsh and deep enough to be debilitating. The sense of unlocking your chest and breathing free and so deep that it hurt, because flying filled up your lungs so. The heady feeling of change, and taking the leap, and what might......might even have been love. The security of delusion.

But they wouldn't return. Why else would one mourn their parting?

His steps weren't nearly as heavy as they had been that night, when he had finally dropped her wrist from his clasp; and turned round to leave. His eyes lingered too long on the crushed grass under the mark of his shoes, even as his legs covered the distance; and he felt rather than consciously controlled the sudden jerk as his tailbone made contact with the plain wood of the bench that she was seated on. That now....they, were seated on.

His gaze trailed over the trampled greens that were now releasing some sort of strangely pleasant, ephemeral scent into the air, over his own feet and the wooden bench- and then her hand. The ring looked deceptively little for something that meant so much. He didn't lie: it did suit her. He would probably have gotten something similar if.......

An owl hooted, somewhere in the distance.

"I am." He said, and his tongue searched for more. More innocuous words to fill in the silence of their breaths while his mind strove to think clearly. "Prison is an amazing place to think. Evaluate life, really. I'd had enough of it."

And what had he found?

Found that the ring pricked at his eyes, and something in his fingers itched to fling it away. But.....it was difficult. Difficult to muster enough feeling to dislike something so small and harmless. It was more of....the fact that he should hate it really..not if he actually did. Yet was difficult to pinpoint...what actually about the ring of metal still pricked in his vision.

The instant it hit him, the spike of self-loathing, tempered by black amusement; shot up his spine. Of all the things it could have been. It wasn't the fact that she wore a ring in another's name. It wasn't the fact that she'd taken another's name......besides, it couldn't have been willingly; and that came as a surprise too: how much he still trusted her after everything. It wasn't that she'd chosen to trust someone else to help her through this madness of a legislation. This final realisation sealed everything: the end to the epiphany that had begun in the shadows of the Ministry cell. It was the end- and Albus breathed; unknowing if he was supposed to smile or grieve.

Of all the things it could have been......it was this.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack did not suppose she would ever stop staring. No other response was jumping to her mind, but dumbly staring at the man that must consider himself so heinously wronged. As she looked at him, she began to believe it too. Of anyone, he was potentially the most willing of any to make the sacrifice Max had made. He was the only one who had expressed an interest in attachment to her, and she had denied that, and then attached herself to someone else. And she and Albus both knew she was not in love with anyone, so she had not even chosen someone else for nobler reasons.

Reason began to kick in again. Yes, Albus had been the one of everyone to express a deeper care for her, and that was precisely why marrying him for the sake of the law would have been disastrous. How, then, could he ever realize she was not a good match for him? How could they avoid his desires being crushed day after day as they remembered that it was only a legality, and not a binding contract that promised emotion to follow? And how could they avoid the risk of the two of them thinking it was more than it really was, which would surely only cause pain?

As much as Albus might have been the obvious choice, he was also very much so the worst one. Not because of who he was, no. (Jack would have loved more reason to keep an eye on him, while simultaneously enjoying his wonderful cooking.) But because of who he wasn’t sure he was. Albus had a lot to figure out about himself, and since so much of his confusion was connected to her by either affiliation or because she was the root of it, it would have completely inhibited his growth to explore who he was.

Jack could not be ashamed of this. Besides, it wasn’t fair to be ashamed of a great favor someone else had done her.

“I’ve found that prison is something only to be taken in small swallows.”

His question hurt, but she did not flinch beneath it. “I told you – I wasn’t going to seek you out. It’s not my place to. I wanted to respect the space that you told me you needed.” She paused, glancing down at the ring that she had thrown into her lap. Her left hand reached down and scooped it up, carefully slipping it into her pocket, where it was safe and hidden and forgotten. “Besides, there’s not really anything to tell. I couldn’t go to Azkaban. I’m doing some work I can’t abandon and I can’t leave Sunny to go to prison.”

(( This post......pained me, even while I wrote it. Hope you like. ))



Jack slipped the ring into her pocket, the small piece of jewellery tumbling down to reside out of sight. At least. If only things could be placed out of mind that easily.

Then she spoke, and he waited.

Waited for his own reaction. He was almost curious about it: there were no misconceptions regarding the fact that for all of his control, he had always been most volatile around her. What would it be........ then? A sense of righteous hurt, coupled with accusations? The cold sheet of betrayal sliding down his spine, to be tempered and hidden by silence? Yet another gaping chasm in their friendship that never was?

But, for the first time in their history of misunderstandings and misconstrued intentions......one of them spoke, and with the right words. Albus kept on waiting for the reaction, that never came.

“I told you – I wasn’t going to seek you out. It’s not my place to. I wanted to respect the space that you told me you needed.”

Alright. Alright.

Morning had started dwindling into dusk, and the light of the sun, pale and almost non-existent as it was during winter months- had begun to fade. Shadows were taking birth now, nestled into the hollows of trees, skirting round the corners of the marble pathway, flitting in and out of every nook and cranny as the magical lights designed to glow at sunset in the Garden began making their appearance. The bird's twitter had ceased, the surrounds were still- silence was a peaceful friend that stroked their backs and lingered on drawn, weary eyes. Almost like it asked for confidance. Asked to be broken.

"I don't care about the Ministry. Don't care if the world burns and the people along with it." So long, so drawn, so restrained....that voice. "The Rebel movement was something to make my days less empty. But I.....revolted against the Marriage Law so much because......" No, not restrained. Subdued. "Because it took away happiness that you fight so hard for. J....just imagine, if....this were to happen under normal circumstances." Eyes rose to the sky, scoping out cloud patterns. "The wedding of Jack Dyllan."

"James would probably have thrown a hissy fit first, the arse." It meandered about it the distance, wistfully, that voice. "Threatened to bring the house down, before he lost his pranking partner to some....'random twit'. Told the bridegroom on the day of the wedding that any dumping to be done would be by his mate alone. Then he'd probably have tried to prey on the cake. The integrity of which would have to be saved by Lily, of course. The girl would scowl her way through the entire thing, invisible for most of the time; but in the end the only reason why it all came together." His lips tugged upwards, unconsciously. "Fred would have hit on all the female relatives throughout the ceremony, with his wingman Sunny of course. She'd braid his hair and deck it in sunflowers first though. He'd whinge about here and there about the loss of his masculinity....while secretly loving it. They'd have gotten on together brilliantly. And Teddy would blackmail the vicar."

Silence fell, slow and hushed: and all the while the question hung in the air. Where would he have been, then?

Would he have been decked in robes too stiff to be comfortable, tugging at his collar by the side of the altar? Fidgeting from side to side, occasionally shooting a glare at James who simply refused to stop waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously, holding down the mental breakdown underneath a tight facade whilst Fred declared the ring was lost. Then Jack's niece, Charlotte was it....would wing down the chapel, navigating between chairs, finally coming to a panting halt in the front and triumphantly hold up a shining, gold band. Then the wait......as she shuffled down the aisle, probably muttering under her breath about uncomfortable shoes, all the while as his palms grew sweaty and his eyes refused to blink, fixed on the apparition. After the solemn words were spoken, after Fred had wiped his crocodile tears on how his 'ickle Alby' had grown up so much, after the rings and the vows and Lily finally being persuaded to smile at the awkward kiss; would he finally have had the courage to draw close, in a quiet moment amidst the ruckus, and whisper in her ear, 'I love your hair.'

"And I would be sitting at the back of the reception, like the desolate Romeo every wedding would be incomplete without, and drinking away my sorrows in beer."

There would always be a small part of him, he knew, regardless of realisations, that would wish she hadn't said no that night. Life was made of if's and might been's. Maybe they would have fought, and there would be confrontations and stormy silences, and the 'yes' would have been the biggest mistake they had ever made. Maybe there was also a reason why they had opened up their secrets to each other first, and no one else: and they would have suited one another, made great, understanding companions and had a happy ending. Maybe. There was never any end to maybe's.

But now, in this moment, Albus knew that the part of him which wished.....was a small part. And that, in the end, was that.

"I don't apologise for anything I said that night." Dusk was settled now, mitigated only by the soft glow of magic. "But things......might have gone differently had I been less..." What....obstinate? Desperate?

"........irrational."

The exhale, was a long time in coming. The tone was quiet, having lost all its wistfulness. He turned to meet her eyes, because some things, regardless of the pain, had to be said. Had to be said in order to dissolve the fleeting regret in her eyes that should have had no place there. "You don't owe love to anyone, Jack Dyllan. Anyone.....regardless of what they might say. Don't ever convince yourself otherwise."

The silence between the two people (for what were they to each other anymore?) was pregnant – in fact, the silence between them was just shy of nine months pregnant. At any moment, something would be birthed from this moment, Jack could feel it coming, but she was not sure who would be the primary parent. Would it be Albus who delivered the life-altering change, or would it be her? And what exactly would come into this world? Would it be good and constructive, or would it be full of evil and anger and regret and destructive?

He was the one to speak first. He was definitely giving birth to an idea, and Jack could see the imagined wedding take place before her. It seemed apt. People who said Albus did not understand people were sorely mistaken. He did not always like being forced into interacting with them, certainly, but he definitely did understand the way that people worked. His representation of the people in their lives was incredibly realistic. A wedding involving that cast would play out almost true to his speech. Except for one of course.

Could Albus attend a wedding of hers happily? Or, if not happily, without contempt for those in the ceremony? She did not stop him, for what right did she have to tell him what he thought was inaccurate? No right. That was what she had learned most with Albus. He had every right, but she had little to none.

He wouldn’t apologize. She wasn’t sure she would have wanted him too. Jack was not one to appreciate apologies for the sake of an apology. She preferred people who did as they knew they must and could not regret nor be ashamed of their choices, rather than those like Chase who always did as she had felt, and always apologized thereafter. Jack probably would not have accepted an apology.

If he had left it there, she would have asked to shake his hand and move on from there. Salvage what good feelings were left, temper them back to friendship, and they could coexist happily. But he did not leave it there. What was meant to be inspiring advice struck her, and it struck her hard. Her voice caught and she blinked a heavy blink.

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” Jack repeated. “Really? You were just saying you launched a full-scale rebellion to prevent me from having to marry if I did not want to. You didn’t owe me that. And I shouldn’t have to owe you by not marrying. I have never paid back a debt that I did not think I need to pay. That’s exactly what got you mad at me in the first place. I didn’t feel right paying back that debt. I feel like I have never strayed, and people have tried to convince me otherwise, yourself included.”

She did not feel like she owed it to Max to save him discomfort from the marriage law, and she did not think he though he owed her either. Maybe that was why it had worked for them.

"Thank you for telling me that, but it was something I already knew."

His teeth tightened fractionally in his jaw. His gums felt strained. Elbows digging into his thighs, his knuckles rose up and pressed, hard, against the dry, stretched skin of his eyelids. Pushed down on eyeballs, numbing the nerve ends of his sockets.

Then a laugh escaped, small, muffled against the sleeves of his coat. His neck rolled back, head hitting against the metal backrest of the bench and Albus smiled exhaustedly at the sky.

God. Look at them. Just look at them. Here he was, inspite of all his regained sense, imagining their wedding for Merlin's sake- and doing a rather poor job of trying to make amends, and there she went away on one of her self-justified rants again. And of course he had to react in some way or the other, which was why lips moved and the words came- "Reminders never go amiss. If you truly believed that with all your heart, you wouldn't have looked at me like you'd seen a ghost tonight."

And that. That, right there, was exactly the reason why they clashed. Because they misunderstood, and understood too late, and even when they did, their bloody f*cking emotions and pride never allowed them to say what they truly wanted to. Because they were Jack and Albus, Albus and Jack, and they cared too much and tried to understand too little and never, ever said things directly, without tainted by demands or confessions or accusations.

Which was why his head tilted to the side, eyes fixated on her profile outlined by dusk- and ignored his rules and natural instinct to hide, cover, conceal......for one last time. "Which means." And his voice roughened, like sand over pebbles, for one last time. "I am not apologising for loving you. I am apologising for asking love in return. And I don't give a f*ck about whether you knew it or not, because it needed to be said." And his head straightened back, his eyes closed, and that was it.

And in the seconds that followed, the tension drained out of his shoulders, passing as if by osmosis into the metal of the bench, seeping through the leg-rests into the ground below. They lay, limp and boneless, propped against the cold seat, eyelashes blinking dimly against the stars- and while it wasn't peace, it was a start.

Of course, even a child would have been able to predict the next step. To restore trust, to bring the tottering friendship back on the worn and weary track, he had to inform her of the developments in his personal life, like he was informed of hers. Tell her of Cecilia and Aurelia and the twins and Athena. Explain a set of deeds that were so uncharacteristic of him, something he himself didn't quite understand- or care to. But of course, they were Jack and Albus, Albus and Jack, with communication skills more inept than that of a child's. So he lay quiet and breathed, while the dusk dragged into night.


"Fred tells me you're involved in something else now." And really, they should have adopted this long, long before- pretense of normality. So much preferred over all the debates and the arguments. "Something to do with bettering the world and ridding it of pests." A barely there pause, a casualness which belied the importance of the following statement. "During the discussion of homicide of journalists and plagues like the Ministry, I thought we had decided to be part of the same pest control team."

Her anger left her with surprising speed. Jack had always been quick to anger - it was one of the traits that made her predisposed to be the sort of personality capable of creating a poltergeist. Her anger typically boiled like water in a pot, building and building until the pressure flung the lid off with a bang and the contents gushed forwards, uncontrollable. But, for whatever reason, this particular anger stopped and stilled as quickly as it had bubbled over. Perhaps it was because day was leaving them, and the cool air and the darkness that trailed after it had a calming effect. Perhaps it was because Jack had just needd to let out that frustration that had not solely been towards Albus.

Or perhaps it was because Jack was tired of being angry at people, and she just did not want to be angry with Albus Potter, one of the last people in the country that had been willing to be her friend.

She would have been angry with his accurate quip on reminders if it had not been just that - accurate. Okay - so her impassioned speech had been a bit idealistic. It was what she wanted for herself, not what she had achieved for herself. If she had believed all that she had said, she would have never gotten involved with Ari, or Nemo. And what about Vito? Most of their twisted companionship had been based on debt. He saved her, so she had to save him. He killed someone, so she had to make amends. She kept a secret, so he revealed one. Jack had been a trader of emotions and loyalty for some time now. So how could she be be mad when Albus hinted at it?

He spoke, and Jack glanced down. It took a lot for him to say that. She was typically not the sort to say what she felt - it had taken her how long to admit to Nemo the feelings that had been so apparent from the beginning? The l-word was foreign on her lips, almost stubborn in comong out. She had tried to goad them out for Albus, hoping that true feeling would follow, and had found her heart too justified in its reasonings. She could not tell Albus she loved him in that way, because she loved him in a way she had not loved in so long. The way she had loved Riley, and Elliot, and Andrew, and Chase, and James. Albus had become someone she would protect and forgive and fight for. He was a friend. He was family.

She smiled a small smile, glad for the mask of night. And right now, he was being very brave for a Slytherin.

"Then let's be friends again," she proposed in a quiet voice. Because that was all she wanted out of Albus Potter. She did not want him to claim to be Light if he was not. She did not want him to tell her he loved her, or that he didn't love her. She did not want him to apologize, and she did not want him to lie. She wanted her friend back, on his terms, on her terms, on their own terms. Neither having to sacrifice, because friendship should be a solace from sacrifice at times.

He brought up Fred and she quirked an eyebrow, turning so he could see her face. Oh boy, were they ridiculously predictable. Emotions, emotions, emotions - it was always tied up in a ribbon of rebellion, wasn't it? She leaned back, picking out the star. Make a wish, her brother's memory reminded her. I don't have a wish to make.

"I'm always in need of a partner in crime," she suggested.