But I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning.

Death was a fact of life, one which seemed to linger close by to those who in truth could have done with a break from it. For some, it robbed them of those they adored. For others, it crept upon them like a shadow, waiting to consume them in darkness. For others entirely, it was something to be avoided at all costs, something to be prevented. It was something which people had to be brought back from, no matter what happened.

These fears, these affected people, came together in the dim light of the flat that had been a home for Keiran and Melissa Hayes for some time. Together with their children they’d made a go of life together. Turbulence seemed to be the third party in their marriage but up until the point when three people apparated into the front room, a steady ebb and flow had taken over their relationship and you could even argue normalcy had prevailed – even if it was out of awkwardness and a desire to avoid confrontation.

The twins had been put to bed, set down for their afternoon nap a few hours before. They were due to wake up soon enough, in time to be awake for when their father came home and they would be alert to their parents as the pair went through the ministrations of getting dinner for themselves, filling the flat with smells that the children would come to be able to indulge in far too soon for their parents’ taste. To wait for both eventualities, Millie had taken to the sofa and had curled up under a blanket to read, poring over the novel she’d bought the previous day.

The three men that appeared in her living room looked far removed from the light, airy world of the flat. They looked as though they had been plucked from a warzone. At once a smell of sulphur and of fizzing magic invaded her senses and she stared, watching as a slow dribble of blood dabbed onto the wood flooring. The book was tossed away, the blanket turned back, and in her place was set the frame that Baldric Wood and Theodore Rookwood had been clinging onto as though life and death depended on it.

Millie’s mouth opened, to question where her husband was, but as Baldric moved away, all of her answers were at once found. A strangled scream ripped from her throat and she surged forward, only to be caught around the middle by Theodore who pulled her back, instructing for Baldric to send his Patronus to Cael Ivanov. Baldric removed his wand from his pocket and closed his eyes briefly before cutting his wand through the air, uttering EXPECTO PATRONUM.

The lion leapt through the room before dancing out of the window. Seemingly at once, another crack echoed through the flat as the Ivanov man appeared. Millie continued to strain against Theodore’s impassive grip and her tears began to rupture her eyes, coursing freely down her face as she stared between her friend and her husband, desperate to find from either of them what was happening. Why this had happened. And then to the healer – for a solution.

Baldric stepped forward, his hands taking up Millie’s smaller ones. Theodore released her and she stumbled into his arms, falling into his chest, her fingers reaching up to grasp at his blood stained shirt. Baldric seized at her and as gently as he could he took her from her feet and lifted her through into the bedroom, setting her down somewhat brutally onto the bed, throwing a spell onto the door to lock it. To prevent Millie from seeing what she didn’t need to. In vain though she still rose, throwing herself against the door only to turn on him, slamming her fists forcefully against his chest until he caught hold of her arms. It was then that she crumpled against him, sobs wracking at her as the voices of Cael and Theodore rose in the adjoining room.

“He’s not going to die,” Baldric exclaimed, shaking Millie forcefully, his eyes meeting hers fiercely. “He won’t die. I promise. He won’t die.”

Methodically and quickly, the men in the other room worked. Cael had Theodore strip Keiran down, as much as the younger man prevailed a good reason not to – or would have, under normal circumstances – there was no protestations from him now. Clothes were abandoned in a pile, enough for modesty – which, naturally meant boxers and socks – maintained for the moment. Theodore himself had lost his shirt and his blazer, both abandoned and stripped to nothing to provide crude field tourniquets and bandages to stem and quench the incessant bleeding. For the life of him he couldn’t shake the sight of Baldric from his mind, sat in a rapidly forming puddle of blood, unable to focus, panic seizing him, reducing him to nothing.

“Your dark mark,” Cael commented, looking at Theodore briefly as he flicked his wand at Keiran, making the man hover for enough time to get the bandages around his middle. “I can see it. I never see it. What happened?”

“I got disarmed,” Theodore returned. “It nullified the magic.”

It hadn’t taken them long, in between Baldric carting Millie out of the room, to figure out that Keiran’s wounds would not respond to magic. Two broken vases, water and flowers splayed across the rug, stood as testament to the rebounding field of light. The wounds had also festered, deepening, seemingly, and widening to all hell. Cael had shot Theodore a desperate look in that moment, the two men wondering whether this was truly it. Years hadn’t been spent by the elder one in the armed forces for nothing, however. Adaption was built into him so adapt they did and he endeavoured to stop the bleeding the only way he knew how – bandages, gauze, tape and lots of it.

A needle and thread had been taken out of his work bag and after guiding the needle quickly and precisely through torn bits of skin, Theodore came behind with the gauze and then the bandages and the rest of the things that needed to be dealt with. Once all of the wounds had been sewn as best as possible in the rushed job their time pressure demanded, Cael began to tighten the bandages and add more and more layers of them until Keiran began to look something like a mummy without all of the incense and a lot more blood, unfortunately.

“Did Baldric see?” Cael asked suddenly as he passed his hands through his potions rack in search of a blood supplement. It was usually used for vampires to stop them from drinking from live people but as a quick replacement it was more than adequate. It would copy itself to what blood was left and replenish him. So at least, he’d get through the night.

“I won’t live it down, if that’s what you mean,” Theodore quipped in response, slicing off a bit of bandage with one of the knives Cael carried with him. “He’s a kid. He’s got passions, hasn’t he? Good and bad are black and white. With this I’m bad.” Theodore picked up one of the salve jars and with one of the pallet knives spread it over one of the wounds that had yet to be wrapped.

“No, Theodore,” Cael chuckled despite himself, rubbing away some of the blood from Keiran’s chest, neck and face with a wet sponge. “You need to read the Daily Prophet. Like, from, 2009. You look and see. Good and bad aren’t black and white with the Woods. Bad did wrong by them.”

“Why do you know this?” Theodore spluttered confusedly, sliding more salve here and there as Cael began to wrap more bandages round Keiran’s limbs. “Do you reckon his nerves are alright?”

“Alicia Wood is an infamously poorly kept secret. With the amount of Rookwoods in and out the Janus Thickey ward, I’m surprised you lot don’t come across her.” Cael smirked, ignoring Theodore’s glare and muttered threat of punching him had it not been for more pressing matters.

“What about his nerves? His shoulders look bad.” Theodore pressed. Cael’s eyes flicked to the areas in question. They had yet to be bandaged. Cael passed his fingers over the awkwardly sewn skin. He hadn’t a choice in the matter. It was sew or let him die. It wasn’t going to get him a blue ribbon for anything but after pasting it over with salve, the bandaging would begin which meant levitating him again to start wrapping.

“I can’t do anything with it. I didn’t have enough time to look. We’re veterans with removing limbs at this stage, though, aren’t we?” He laughed. “If they’re injured, we have twenty-four hours. Hopefully, we can get him stable and in a few hours I can reopen what I’ve got and look and if it’s bad then we can fix it. Or, well, I can. Somehow. And besides, growing arms back is a pain. Like, legs are all fun and games but you need to get the arm and the joints and knuckles and, I mean, toes were crazy but fingers – not to mention the thumb – are the banes of my life.”  

Theodore found himself smirking and shook his head, reaching with the knife to cut off a piece of bandage. It felt good to be liberal with chatter. It helped alleviated the stress of what was still a tense situation. Cael ordered Theodore about with ease and they managed to get Keiran, even in his semi-unconscious state, to swallow both the blood replenishing potion and a pain one – on second thought, Cael decided to add another. A stoned wizard, he found, was always easier to deal with than one grumpy with pain.

“Do you want to make me a cup of tea?” Cael inquired idly, looking over at Theodore with a bark of a laugh when he caught the nauseas look on the man’s face. “Oh, c’mon, Theo. He’ll be fine. He’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up and he’ll feel like the devil himself didn’t want him but being alive is much better than all that.”

“Sounds it,” Theodore quipped dryly as Cael took the last bit of bandage around Keiran’s middle. Then, they were done. More or less, at least. It would do for the minute. “Can I get Millie?”

“Might be worth knocking her out with something,” Cael offered, throwing up a vial of potion which Theodore reluctantly caught hold of. “That’s for you,” Cael amended at Theodore’s scandalised look.

“Millie will be fine.” Theodore asserted gently after swallowing back the potion which would both calm his nerves and fix any of his own ailments which adrenaline had prevented his body from acknowledging.

“You don’t read any news do you?” Cael inquired airily.

In moving Keiran to the bedroom, the boys had to encounter the defeated young woman who stared, unable to formulate a reaction, at the sight of her husband trussed up to the point of almost being unrecognisable. Cael pressed a vial of a similar nature into Baldric’s hands and instructed the man to go and shower, presenting him with a set of clothes, also. Another were given to Theodore but the youngest would go first, it was decided, as they had to look over the ailing professor before anyone could think about doing anything else.

Without anyone to hold onto her, to prevent her from bolting forward, Millie found she could no longer move. She stood, immobilized, staring and unable to find the words to articulate exactly what she was feeling. There were no words. How could she react to this scene? All she could see before her eyes was her father slumped at the breakfast table. Then Aiden in the lab. Now Keiran, was that it? Was that to be his fate, on top of everyone else she’d lost?

“He’s going to be fine, Mills,” Cael assured her, reaching for her, rubbing his strong hands up and down her arms.

“He just won’t be as sexy as before,” Theodore added with an idle grin as he adjusted the bedclothes somewhat, pulling a sheet over Keiran rather than the heavy duvet.

Millie’s lower lip trembled and Cael observed her, finding that she didn’t look her eighteen years in that moment. She looked as the Daily Prophet had recorded them, her and her brother, barely sixteen who looked for all of the world like children, scared and unsure. That was her expression, her countenance, and her figure. She was tiny to his eye. Her face had whitened, any sign of colouring long gone. The only stain to her skin was the red rim of tears about her eyes and the shine of salt on her cheeks.

“He’s alive, Millie,” Cael pressed. “It’s not going to be fun from here on in for a little while but he’s not going anywhere just yet. I promise you that.”

Millie managed a nod. Baldric returned from the shower at this point, sweat pants on and a t-shirt half pulled over his head. His hair was washed, damp and clinging to his forehead and one sock was on, the other nowhere to be found. The sodden appearance of it made Millie think for a second he’d forgotten to take it off, electing instead to enter the shower with it one. When he removed it hastily, throwing it into the wicker basket, her thought was confirmed. Theodore repaired to the adjoining bathroom them, the shower turning back on.

“What in god’s name happened?” Millie asked finally, her words shaking out between her lips.

“Death Eaters,” Baldric replied, sending a terse look in the direction of the bathroom door. “Who else?”

Cael carefully led Millie over to the bed and set her down. Her eyes roved of Keiran, trying to find any patch of skin that they hadn’t dolled up in bandage, tape and gauze. His face, but for a cut across his jawline which had been sewn and taped, had been left unscathed and Millie was given the luxury of running her fingers through the front of his hair. The texture of it had changed, however, and she stole her hand back, finding it shining and sticky with blood.

Cael immediately moved forward in search of the accompanying cut and for several minutes he worked over him before shifting off of the bed, offering Millie a handkerchief as he passed. There was no cut. It was just left over from everything else. Millie wiped off her hand and dumped them both in her lap, looking from her husband to his cousin who had returned, dressed, his hair also damp. The Dark Mark was still on show, evidence of Baldric’s discomfort. The man in question sidled away to the opposite side of the room.

“Double agent,” Theodore announced glibly, throwing his arms open, hoping to absolve himself.

“Even worse,” Baldric spat. “Working for the Order doesn’t take back all of the harm you’ll do whilst under the Death Eaters. Let alone the infirmity of conviction.”

“Big words,” Theodore remarked lowly. “Got anything to back up that righteousness there?”

The men squared up to each other, both balking at the way the other seemed intent on acting and Cael stepped between them, thrusting the pair away before they could so much as thing about brawling in what was, first, a private room for the couple on the bed and second, also, now his sick bay.

“Shut up or get out, the pair of you,” he scolded them. “Theodore is a twat but you need to cool yourself, Baldric, just relax mate. Theodore, stop provoking him.”

“How am I provoking him?” Theodore replied, his voice rising an octave or two in surprise.

“You’re breathing,” Cael muttered, moving over to Keiran. Two fingers found the pulse. His eyes fell to his watch and he counted, pleased that the blood replenishing potion seemed to be working.

“What is going to happen?” Millie asked quietly, looking up at Cael. He was surprised by her composure, in truth. It suggested that perhaps she was not as young in heart as she looked to him. But then, at the same time, perhaps she was used to it. However much it killed him to think of it, she must have been.

“What do you know about wounds like this, love?” Cael asked softly.

Millie rolled her shoulders back and she sat up a little taller. She swallowed tightly and lifted her hand, shaking it from side to side. A little. Cael’s lips pursed together. He didn’t believe her. Not for a second. He didn’t need to believe her, either, because she knew exactly what wounds that deep did. Her fingers gripped at the shirt over her stomach and with a start he remembered something else. A portion of hearsay. He studied her for a moment. Then decided to forget it.

“These are a little different. They hate magic for some reason. I don’t know why, yet, but I’m going to figure it. Theodore will use his connections to find out what the spell was. The Death Eaters have changed their games a little bit, I fear. Of all the people to go for…” Cael shook his head. “These need to be healed the Muggle way. Which, inevitably, means scars.” Millie nodded, swallowing again. “They’re curable though. You know that.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. Cael cleared his throat and moved on, feeling Theodore’s eyes boring into his back and Baldric’s into his front. He didn’t need those two men banding together in defence of Millie. He didn’t want to have to sew himself back up on top of everything else.

“We’re staying tonight. Keiran should be awake soon enough. What state he’ll be in depends on how well he takes to two vials of pain potion and a blood replenisher.” Theodore chuckled in the background. “We’ve got to play it by ear at the moment. We’ve literally sewn him up and deposited him down again so…”

“Hold on,” Millie interjected. “You’ve done what?”

“He’s Doctor Frankenstein,” Theodore replied, opening up one of the side tables to find tobacco inside along with papers and filter tips. It was old, all of it, but usable still and he immediately began to roll up a few cigarettes. Baldric, he knew, would benefit too. They’d both play hooky with their quitting business tonight.

“I don’t know what’s wrong yet,” Cael asserted himself awkwardly. “There was way too much blood and if he lost any more I don’t know what we were going to do so it was rushed and we’re basically going to try and keep him stuck together and pain free before I start figuring what needs to be repaired and sort out stitches. There’s a lot there. Whoever it was really did a number on him.”

“Well,” Baldric intoned darkly, “whoever did it, I hope someone makes them pay for it.”

“If it’s the last thing I do, mate,” Theodore mumbled, a cigarette between his lips. “Whichever bastard saw fit to do that can go in the same shallow grave I’m going to put Henry Yewbeam and my father in.”

“Charming, gentlemen,” Cael griped. “Piss off - go and plot elsewhere, will you?”

The men rose from their roosts, departing sourly, the last word being taken by Baldric who muttered:

“If you don’t get him first, I’ll kill ‘im myself.”

Fire. He had to be on fire. Had to be. There was no other explanation for the scalding pain that covered and permeated the entirety of Keiran's body. He was moved by some outside force, blinding pain striking its way through him, making him wish he could cry out. But he was more out than in, his mind desperately begging him to just give up and shut down. It would have made things so much easier.


It was appealing, the idea of just relaxing and letting himself fall into the hands of whichever deity he didn't believe in but suddenly hoped existed somewhere. Whichever would take him in and accept him as their own. Accept him as done. The only decent side effect of the pain? The images that his mind conjured behind his eyes. The option of opening that door when it appeared in front of him was just too easy. His hand reached out, touched the doorknob.

But then a scream broke through his haze - one different than those of the kids he had tried to save. For all Keiran knew, he'd been too late. But this pained scream was one he only knew minimally. Only through a single experience that, based on what the pair had been through recently, might never happen again. Through those long hours in which he had fiercely hoped both she and the twins would be okay.

Millie.

Keiran wanted to say something - wanted to just move to prove to whoever else was there that he hadn't given up the good fight just yet. But nothing was listening to him, regardless of him yelling mentally for his fingers or something to at least wiggle.


Liam. Kelly. Desperation. Pain.

Keiran couldn't be angry with himself for complaining mentally. It was easily the worst thing he had experienced - worse than the internal ache that came from Millie's betrayal. Worse than the equally internal misery that came from his father's death. The sheer anguish was overwhelming, and only got worse when hands prodded at him. Keiran was fairly certain that he blacked out, because the next time he registered anything, he could no longer feel the sticky movement on his own blood running down his arms. His torso. Everywhere, really. If he had been able, a sigh of relief would have left him, even with the sharp twinges that popped up all over.



Something passed down his throat, the pain ebbing but his awareness also fading. Just when he had decided to fight against it, his chance was denied and everything went black. It was lucky, Keiran supposed upon coming to once more, because the place felt different. Voices came from all sides of him, and at one point Keiran imagined someone - or was it a few someones? - checking on him and brushing back his hair. But it was rather unlikely, considering the voices sounded male. What would cause them to do all that?

Except the pain, of course, clued him in. The last thing he remembered was telling Robin he was leaving. Something was missing - something that would explain what he was feeling. Why didn't anyone notice him trying to get their attention? Someone had to know what was going on. Either they were ignoring him, or nothing he did made it through whatever they had given him to calm the pain. And it really was less terrible now. But it wasn't gone. It was like a sunburn in that he ached all over but just felt warm somehow. Heated. Keiran didn't want to shout his discomfort anymore, but instead wanted to shout out his grievances with those around him for not explaining.

Everything grew quiet very suddenly, as if he'd been left there alone.




A desperate groan finally broke through, his eyelids squeezing together even further before they opened. The ceiling light was like a slap to the face, causing Keiran to wince and utter another pained grumble. His mind was working too slowly, and things weren't adding up to a complete picture. He had to be at home - otherwise Millie might not have been there. But he didn't know how or who or any of the other W's that went along with questioning things. If it weren't for the fact that everything seemed to be throbbing with pain, he would have been dreadfully concerned about getting up and going back to the warehouse. As it were, he just wanted to know about the kids. Wanted to send someone to help them if they were still trapped there. But he wasn't even sure how long it had been. In a matter of moments, his thoughts had jumped through several topics, eventually landing back on:

"Millie."

Soon was defined as a period of just under twenty minutes. Distant activity outside of the bedroom betrayed the other men finding the drinks cabinet. Indistinct sounds alerted quivering ears to the opening of firewhisky and the clinking of glasses onto table tops. But all of that paled as the twinging skin over her husband’s eyes shrank together, contracting tightly before retracting entirely to reveal wild, wary eyes that seemed unable to perceive as much as they did. At his throaty utterance of her name, her hands seized forward, taking up his nearest, warm palm, cradling it in hers as much as she could without inciting discomfort.

The Ivanov man stepped forward and sat down on the other side of Keiran, careful not to inadvertently move the younger man’s frame. He threw a spell at the lights, dimming them slightly to be more agreeable to the potion afflicted gaze that seemed to him infirm and unsteady, rightly so, too. He swallowed, his own gaze administering first impressions upon Keiran before lifting over to Millie who kept her silence, but held his hand regardless. Cael steeled himself, conceding that he would have to make the first inquiry after Keiran’s wellbeing – the physical appearance utterly misleading.

“Keiran,” Cael began, touching at the man’s arm. “Do you know where you are? You know you’re at home, don’t you?” Cael glanced over at Millie briefly before returning his eyes to Keiran’s face. “I’m Cael. You’re not required to remember that but I’m Robin’s cousin, okay? Millie’s here.”

Cael reached out and pinched Millie’s side, prompting her to start a little, passing him a glare. Cael persisted with a look, prompting her to sit up a little higher, her hands squeezed once, twice, thrice around Keiran’s and she opened her mouth, trying to find the words but none sprang forth. She faltered and stiffened, retreating back into herself before lowering her head, sufficing only as to lift his hand to her lips, pressing them gently against his skin, over his knuckles, into his palm.

“Okay,” Cael continued. “We’re going to try to keep this short. After this question, you needn’t speak anymore, but I need you to rate your pain out of ten. Can you do that for me?” Cael blinked, licking his lips carefully before looking over at Millie. “Then, I need you to try and remember what happened. Just nod for me if you know. Okay. You were with your students,” Cael paused, “when the Death Eaters attacked,” he paused again, “you got hit with a curse,” another pause, “then Theodore and Baldric brought you here. I don’t expect you to remember that bit.”

Cael pushed off of the bed, uttering that he’d go and get something for the pain. With the shuffle of his feet, he was at once gone from the room. This left Millie alone with her husband but in light of the manner in which he’d come home, she could not muster any words in either comfort or commentary of the situation. She continued to hold his hand in her lap, her fingers brushing over the back of it as she looked over him, desperately wishing that it wasn’t happening, that in a moment she’d wake on the sofa, the book having fallen to the floor, roused from her awful nightmare by his entry, healthy and happy albeit dissatisfied to return home to her. She could have lived with that, so long as this wasn’t the true reality. But it was.

“Keiran,” she whispered pitifully, bringing one of her hands up to skirt her fingertips across his cheekbone. “My love, I’m so sorry.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was sorry for in this instance. Perhaps everything. Acquiescing to the marriage law. Marrying him. Starting a family when both should have known better and neither were ready. Coaxing him into opening the school. Cheating on him. Somehow she managed to get to the conclusion that this happening was somehow own doing. She had a hand in it, yes, but she needed to recall she did not control the activities of the Death Eaters. She had not done this, no matter how guilty, how sick to the pit of her stomach, she felt.

“We’re going to get you right,” she promised. “We are. It’ll be like it didn’t happen, soon enough. You’ll be good as new, I swear it.”

Keiran inhaled sharply, blinking hard at the pain it caused, the instant Millie's touch was given to him. Tilting his head, he found her with his gaze. Keiran half wished he didn't feel a thing and didn't even know he was hurt. It would have made things easier for Melissa, and he considered faking the pain going away in the coming days. But even he, as stubborn and ridiculous as he often was, could not keep back the accidental groans that would inevitably continue to leave him.

Someone sat on his other side, so Keiran had to tilt his chin again so he could look up at the stranger now beside him. He tried to blink his affirmations, but he wasn't sure if the point got across. They seemed like rhetorical questions anyway. Well, at least until Cael asked him to respond. Clearing his throat once, Keiran pushed out the most conservative number he could give without blatantly lying: "Six?"

If he could pretend for Millie's sake that he was better off than he was, it would make things easier for her, and in turn less anxiety-inducing for him. The more she worried, the more he would. When asked if he knew what happened, Keiran just tugged his eyebrows together. He felt useless in his struggle to make things move. His hand finally listened, though, giving Millie's smaller one a squeeze. He would work normally again - or next to normal - and that would be good enough.

So he had gone back after helping Marcus and Ana. That made sense. But he didn't remember the Death Eaters being there. Or falling or whatever he'd done to make someone bring him home. Cael left when Keiran couldn't find anything to say. But Millie spoke, reaching a hand to his face.

Keiran let his cheek fall into her palm, relaxing enough to let his gaze take her in. "Missie," he started, trying out his voice once more. It was a bit off, but it came out properly enough that Keiran kept on. "Lie down," he instructed gently. "And don't tell me you're scared to hurt me. I don't care. Besides," he added with as much cheek as he could muster for her, "touch helps the healing process, yeah?"

Expecting her to object, he swallowed hard, eyes closing for a moment. When he opened them again he added, "Please. I need you." He ducked his chin to direct her hand towards his hairline, feeling childish suddenly. If she would just relax then he could consider resting. And if she chose to do so beside him, all the better. But just then, Keiran desperately wished he could sit up and kiss her fear away - as he should have done for everything else she worried after. Maybe then he would have been enough to keep her from wanting someone else, even if she only had for a little while.

So, yes. He would be selfish. He would be so completely selfish that he would make her sit with him even if she would rather be in with the twins because seeing what had become of him was too much. Because, dammit, he needed somebody, and she was all he had. She would've been the one he wanted, though, regardless of who he could have gone for or who was around. So he waited and hoped that she would let him be the jerk he wanted to be. But really, he was only like that because he needed her. Because he loved her. And he had been stupid enough to mess it up once.

It hit him very rapidly that this would either be their ruin or their salvation.

There was nothing in the world that would stop her from acquiescing to his one request. Tentatively and not without concern for his welfare, Millie shifted a little, elongating her legs and slowly lowering herself down so that she was level with him, her head resting next to his on the plump pillows. She vaguely registered a gladness that she’d change the bedclothes that morning after he’d gone. The smell of vanilla was strong and fragrant about them, soothing her worries somewhat. It masked the linger scent of blood but nothing could quite get rid of the stench of sizzling magic which had purveyed the flat ever since the party had arrived. She’d have to burn incense for days yet. With a bit of luck, the dizzying scent would whisk the memories away, along with the stench.

Sighing softly, she brought her hand back to his cheek, her thumb running across a shallow cut that needn’t be tended to with anything other than a drop of salve which had already begun to heal it up. She stifled the need to sob and instead shrunk closer to him, wishing that she knew where to put her hands, so that she could not hurt him but still feel near him. It was safe to say that in losing the ability to use magic, Theodore and Cael had been far more liberal with what they had to work with than they would have been normally. She trusted in them but she wished they hadn’t been so thorough – if only so she could indulge Keiran and bring him close to her without true fear of hurting him all the more.

“You should care,” she whispered, carefully laying her arm down on his chest, her gaze watching his face for any signs of discomfort. She supposed she had managed to miss any areas of extreme delicacy. She was grateful for it for at the very least she could be that close to him. “I don’t want to aggravate anything. That’s all. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

She leaned in and hesitantly pressed her lips to his, clasping them gently together to bring him as much comfort as it did to now she could still do it, that she wasn’t in pieces over the fact that she had lost him. She hadn’t. He was still with her, the missing piece that made their family. Albeit, the irony of it was he was in near pieces instead.

Millie lifted her mouth from Keiran’s tenderly just as Cael returned. He paused, seemingly thinking better of intruding, but when Millie caught his eye, he pressed forward, shaking a vial of pain potion as promised. She recognised the label, the colour of the glass and the stopper that was intricate as ever – indicative of a brand that was favoured for less than respectable endeavours. Cael removed the stopper with a pop and held it out to Millie, noting the slightly wry look that had taken her features hostage.

“Purely medicinal, this one. I think we’re all past the days when two parts tequila, one part firewhisky and the rest this stuff was appealing, eh?” He commented jovially.

“Cael, you’re a good boy,” she retorted with a weary smile, bringing the vial to Keiran’s lips. “You never used this recreationally.”

Cael smirked. He took the vial back once the contents had disappeared and he lingered a little longer to be sure the dressings were secure and that everything was normal. A lot more colour had returned to the man’s face which was indicative of the blood replenishing potion working its magic. That meant that sleep would be welcome to them all soon enough. Theodore would collapse into an arm chair, Cael the other and Baldric would curl up on the sofa once they’d gotten all of the mess out of the upholstery.

“Sleep and beautiful wives heal all wounds, don’t they? Right, mate. You’re good to go. You’ll be pretty whizzy soon enough so get rested up and tomorrow I’ll have a better look at you. Don’t worry about the babies. Theodore and Baldric are finding their paternal instincts. Night-night, kids.”

Then, with that said, Cael disappeared, shutting the door softly behind him. Millie laid her head back down on the pillows. She brought her hand up and ran her thumb over Keiran’s chin.

“You’ve got a nice cocktail of potions in you,” she commented idly, her lips curving up into a crooked smile. “You’re gonna have such a headache in the morning.” She laughed despite herself, as though that was the only thing worth worrying about.

Closing her eyes, Millie leaned over, inching closer, and wound her arm hesitantly around Kieran’s middle. She pressed a kiss to his neck and rested her forehead against his head. With her other hand she dragged some of the sheets over her, too, and snuggled down next to him.

“I love you.” She murmured, needing to say the words. “You know that don’t you?” She asked. “This is so not the best time but Keiran I love you. I do. I need you to believe me when I say it. You’re all I have. You’ve made everything I have. I can’t bear to lose you.”

The mattress shifted, and the ex-professor stiffened in an attempt to keep still as Millie neared. Once she curled an arm around his torso, Keiran turned his head to look at her. “Even if it did hurt, I’d rather you be here than not.”

Were it not for his shoulder being furious with him, Keiran would have reached for her arm in turn, covering it with his own. Instead, he put as much comfort as he could into the kiss he returned. It felt only slightly backwards, his wanting to calm her instead of worrying after what had actually happened to him. He didn’t know and didn’t want to know, because that would mean focusing on the accident when he really just wanted to move past it.

But if magic hadn’t stitched him up already, it wasn’t going to. So that meant a drawn out number of days or weeks during which time he would tell himself to fake it and ensure that Millie herself was okay. It meant he would have to be all the more distant from the twins to ensure that they didn’t pull on his bandages or whatever else they managed to get their hands on. Fairly obvious, then, was the future that awaited him: lying around and wishing he had done things differently.

By the time Cael handed off the potion, Keiran had trapped himself in his head, only half registering the fact that the man had returned. So he had to pretend he had been listening as he accepted the potion given to him. And, truly, it was just buckets of fun, being fed his own medicine. He just loved it. Sort of. Not really. But he gave Cael the best smirk he could manage, figuring the man wouldn’t know if it were a real one or not.

“Thank you,” he offered, giving a nod of appreciation just before Cael left the room.

Keiran turned his head when Millie reached out, and he was reminded just how much her touch could calm him. She had always managed to sort him out when he couldn’t figure out how to do so himself. She kept on and while it truly did warm him, Keiran couldn’t help but try and shush her. He nudged her with his nose, saying, “You’re not going to. I refuse to go before you do. I simply won’t have it!” he proclaimed, a light chuckle rumbling through his chest. He jerked his head away when he felt the overwhelming urge to cough, swallowing hard and pushing air through his nose in forced huffs in an attempt to quell it. When it passed, his head fell back against the pillow and he sighed.

“Okay. Well making jokes isn’t working today,” he deduced after a pause. Pressing a kiss into her hair, Keiran continued. “Maybe in the morning I’ll be right as rain. You never know. Sleep now, Missie. …But know that – as cheesy as it sounds – it wouldn’t matter if anything happened to me. So long as you and the twins are fine, that’s all that matters. I’m crap at showing it, but I love you all so much I would rather stay this way than have it happen to any of you. Don’t get me wrong – I’ll complain about it. But I won’t really mean it.

“So just relax, and know that this – what I do – it’s not an endeavor to stay away. It’s an attempt to make sure that Liam and Kelly don’t grow up in a Hell created by the Ministry. Yes, it’s partly for the students, but it’s mostly for them. And for you. Because, really, I’m useless if I’m not working. I don’t like feeling like nothing, y’know? So I got myself into this and it’s fine. Thanks to Bae and Theo and Cael, I’ll be as close to right as I'm able to get, as quickly as possible.”

Keiran shifted, only releasing a minimal sound of discomfort as he did. Finally, the hand closest to her moved, the fingers wrapping around her arm. It was the best form of an embrace that he could manage just then, and it was going to have to do. "Sleep, love. We'll figure out how this happened soon enough."

Beholding Keiran as he was, part Frankenstein’s monster, part dead Egyptian pharaoh, was half killing his wife. The strangest thing in the world was for her to see him in any other light than the one she was so used to. He was strong. He was her upright, snarky, ever so slightly tense husband whom she loved desperately. Splayed out, wrapped up as though undoing any of the bandages would see him fall apart, weary, stoned and in pain – that was not him. Albeit, the stoned part was interesting to the still wry and amused part of her brain because she was half certain Keiran would have his panties in a twist about it if at all possible. Like that though, he wasn’t her man. Theodore and Baldric could pass around as many threats between them as they liked but when she got her hands on whoever had been on the end of that wand, she couldn’t be sure she’d be able to stand up in court and deny attempted murder.

Millie found herself smiling at him but it soon drifted away from her expression as he tried to sober himself. Her fingers spread out across his chest and she pressed into him a little, the barest amount, attempting to coax some sort of soothing feeling into him. She had no clue what she was doing, in truth, but when she brought her hand back up to his cheek her smile returned in part. But soon her lips pursed and screwed to the side, her lids narrowing her gaze as she looked at him, dismay and despair writing a narrative across her features.

“You’re full of shit, Keiran,” she scolded him. “I won’t get mother of the year for saying this but they don’t need us. They really don’t. If we drop the ball, sod it. It doesn’t matter. Someone will pick up the pieces because idiots like that lot out there love us enough to sort it out. But if I lose you.” She grasped his face a little tighter, accentuating her point. “Then I’m done. I’m right behind you. Because I am telling you now, I won’t be able to look at those children every day knowing you’re not there. I’m not a good person. Selfish as all hell. I’ll pay for that one day, I know that much, but I can’t do without you. It’s not enough for me and the kids to be alright. I can’t live for them alone. I need you.”

Words, they were just words. She knew as soon as she said it that she couldn’t be sure of what she’d do until the situation arose its ugly head. She hoped that it wouldn’t, against everything she hoped to God that it wouldn’t happen. As it was, she doubted she’d be so quick to give into the melodrama. She’d think about it, no doubt, but resilience and knowledge of there being a higher purpose to all of it would come in place of her desire to be selfish. She would be able to live for them alone. She would provide for them. They would always be more important than herself. So she didn’t know if she meant what she’d said. She’d want to, at least. She’d think about it.

“Dunno if I could really do it,” she amended, combing her fingers through his hair. “But it matters, Keiran. It does matter. You matter.” She leaned over and brought her lips to his again, leaning carefully against him, mindful not to hurt him. After pulling away, she smoothed her fingers across his cheek, steadying her gaze on him. “It’s not fine, either. You don’t have anyone to watch your hairy butt. If someone was, you wouldn’t be like this and there would be a Death Eater cut up and bleeding half to death instead of you. You’re not going back there until you’re one hundred and twenty percent fit. This isn’t me trying to keep you here. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do but you’re not doing it until you’re ready. I will tie you to this bed if I have to, to make sure you stay and rest up. Okay? I’m not budging on this.”  

Millie settled herself down then, declaring with her actions that it was discussion over. She laid herself down against the warmth and softness of the bed, half curled into him but mindful of his hurts. She then curled the slightly heavier duvet around them and looped her arm back around his middle.

“For the record,” she added sleepily. “You’re not nothing. You’ll never be nothing.”

---

A tap of a hot bit of metal against skin rudely began the following morning.

Baldric shot off of the sofa with a yelp, his legs tying in the blanket, getting caughtt and sending him rolling into a heap onto the floor. He groaned heavily, the excess of the night’s drinking catching up with him all of a sudden. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and looked up accusatorily at Theodore Rookwood. The man was holding a fish slice and in the other arm he had one of the twins. Baldric hoped that it was wind, at the very least, but he could see the parents in that child, made exceptional by the cheeky grin on the baby’s face.

“Piss off, Theodore,” Baldric groaned finally, pulling himself back up onto the couch.

“No breakfast for you then, dickhead!” He sang enthusiastically, moving back off into the kitchen. “Your uncle Baldric is a right grouch, Kelly. You know that?”

Baldric muttered under his breath exactly what he thought of Theodore but composed himself, moving to get to his feet and stretch out his weary muscles. It was then that the bedroom door opened and Baldric opened his eyes to see Millie stepping out, closing the door quietly behind herself. She quirked an eyebrow at him, pointing to his chest and Baldric looked down, spotting the tattoo that he hadn’t realised that Millie had never seen. She smirked at him.

“Does Ben think that’s sexy?” She quipped, sidling past into the kitchen, pausing to pick up the blanket and toss it on the sofa.

“Does Keiran like to do you from behind to look at the wings?” Baldric griped stormily.

Millie blinked at him innocently. “Of course,” she grinned, watching as Baldric’s face contorted into utter dismay.

“Too much,” he asserted, sloping in through the kitchen after her where Cael was feeding Liam, reading the morning paper, and Theodore was cooking with Kelly.

It was an odd sight, really. Theodore was talking animatedly to her daughter, as though she could understand every word and had enough of her father’s wit in her to sass him despite neither comprehending him nor being able to speak. Theodore’s enthusiasm was unmatched, however, and it seemed as though he’d either learnt to speak baby or his relationship with his own daughter had taught him more than his fair share of things about children. She spoke to the babies herself, of course, and carried on conversations in much the same way, often even having Liam on hand for outfit advice not that he was any help at all, but it was strange seeing someone else do it.

“Morning,” she enthused brightly after gathering her wits, skipping over to give both men a kiss on the cheek before greeting her babies, being handed Kelly as Theodore began to plate up breakfast. She sat down in the seat next to Liam and Cael and cooed at her son, inquiring as to whether or not the pair of them had kept their uncles up during the night and whether they themselves had slept well or not for it.

“You bet your sweet arse they did,” Theodore informed her, bringing the plates over to the table. “Where’s Kegs, then?”

“Sleeping, just about,” Millie mumbled, shaking up a bottle of formula milk for Kelly. “He’s probably awake now, though.”

“I should go and look in on him,” Cael said thoughtfully between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs. “See, after you went to bed I had a think. I’ve decided infection is not the issue. If we keep everything clean, it won’t even enter into the equation. I’m still worried about nerve damage, though, and hindsight being twenty-twenty, I don’t think I took into account how bad his leg was at the time. I mean, we sewed him up and all the rest but-”

“Do you ever switch off?” Baldric asked tersely, in the midst of rolling his first cigarette of the morning.

“Back on those are we?” Millie inquired archly, turning her gaze to him as she rubbed the teat of the bottle along Kelly’s lower lip, alerting her to breakfast. “The healers will give you hell for that.” She dropped her gaze to her daughter, watching in her usual quiet wonderment as the little girl drank contentedly from the bottle.

“I would,” Cael announced with a smirk, bringing Liam up onto his shoulder, his fingers patting out a rhythm onto the boy’s back gently. “But he’s not my patient. I trust you know that nicotine will skew results of your motor reflex tests, though, Baldric.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Baldric returned. “I am well aware. But it’s just once. Tonight and today.”

“Which makes twice,” Theodore interjected.

“Look, stuff is going to get better rather than worse, isn’t it?” Baldric asked. Everyone nodded. “Right, so, while it’s crap. I’m going to smoke. After today, it’ll be fine, won’t it so I’ll quit again.”

“Well you eat your breakfast,” Cael instructed slowly. “And do something other than smoke, would you? Theodore,” he turned to the other man. “Why don’t you spend the day slinking around Knockturn Alley and see who comes out of the woodwork with a few answers?”

“What d’you mean?” Theodore asked, taking a mouthful of coffee.

“He means find out who did it,” Millie filled in tartly before Cael could speak. “And then, you come to me, okay?”

Theodore’s eyebrows shot to his hairline and for a moment the breakfast room was silent. Baldric licked at the paper, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, and he looked at Millie closely out of the corner of his eye. Theodore nodded after a moment and focused on his breakfast, they all did, bar Cael who rose from his chair, handed Liam to Baldric and Millie relinquished Kelly to Baldric, intent on following Cael as he made his way out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.

“Good morning, Mr Hayes!” The healer announced happily as he entered the bedroom, Millie hot on his heels.

Cael sat himself down on the bed, setting down a cup of fresh tea for Keiran to peruse when he was good and ready to. Millie lingered in the entryway, watching carefully and listening intently for what Cael had to say. For better or worse, he didn’t switch off, but he was good at what he did and if he had Keiran right as rain sooner rather than later before the man got too grumpy about being stuck inside then she’d be ever grateful.

“Right, so.” Cael reached over and felt for Keiran’s pulse at his neck. He was obviously alive but it wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He wanted to feel for frequency and steadiness – which he got both of. Though it was a resting, wakeful beat, it was consistent and strong which meant it had a lot of blood to shift around, solving one of the more pressing problems which had worried Cael the night before.

“Can I get a bit of a pain count from you? Same as before – one to ten. Then we’ll get you something to dent it and keep you sweet because today will be interesting, I promise you that.” He got up, went to retrieve a vial of slightly more favourable pain potion which would dull it and keep him level headed rather than take it away and make him a little bit whizzy. Taking out the stopper, Cael dropped the contents into the tea and smiled before tucking the vial into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Okay,” Cael smiled, his hands on his knees. “The plan for this morning is a good old bath for you, my friend. It’ll soothe your muscles and it’ll encourage the cuts and scrapes to get a wriggle on and start healing. Then, what I want to do is fix the torso primarily. I want the stitches I put into your chest out and redone. In fact,” Cael turned around to look at the girl in the doorway, “Mills, you can take them out.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” She asked hesitantly, stepping forward.

“Course,” Cael shrugged his shoulder at her. “You just follow the line and be careful, that’s all. Anyway, it’d be better. Nice bath and a bit of tender loving care from the missus. Can’t moan, can you? Right so, when that’s done, I’ll zip you back up again and Mills, you can tape him up can’t you?” He turned again.

“What am I, magician’s assistant now?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes,” he replied without missing a beat, smiling at her. “Look, it’s not complicated. I promise you. Bit of salve rubbed in gently and tape him up. Then we watch it and change them if there’s any bleeding. Shouldn’t be. I could join the WI, I’m so good at stitching. Alas, last night wasn’t my finest. It was about stopping the bleeding. Hence you’re a stunt double for King Tut. A fine one you make too.” Cael grinned.

“Then afterwards?” Millie steered the conversation, nibbling on her lip.

“Ah, yes,” Cael returned. “Afterwards, I’m going to run a few diagnostics on your ball and socket joints. The spell is really interesting, in truth. If you weren’t the one that has to deal with it then you’d probably appreciate it a bit more. But where it struck you here,” Cael gestured to his own shoulders, placing his hands diagonally across where the joints in question where. “So it hit you kind of like this and dug straight in like someone had put two knives there, right. Really deep. We, um, kind of made it a bit worse, too. Theo and I didn’t realise immediately that magic wasn’t going to cut it but we’re more worried about your leg on that front, um.”

Cael dropped his hands thoughtfully for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair. Millie rolled her eyes at him and pushed off into the adjoining bathroom to go and run the bath. She turned the taps, waiting for the water to warm up, and then returned to the doorway to listen.

“Right, so. Essentially I want to make sure I don’t have to lop your arms off. Shouldn’t have to. I tried to repair what I could and I think it was just muscle but I don’t know that for sure. Ever regrow an arm? The thumb is the most curious thing. Bones are easy, mind you, but the whole bit is an absolute pain. And I don’t suppose we could if magic caused it,” the last thought was mostly to himself but Millie gave a dismayed squeak, causing Cael to look up.

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Cael smiled, attempting to be reassuring. “They weren’t as bad as I thought at the time. The leg however, that might cause you a bit of jip. I just want to check on your shoulders. Then I’ll have a bit of a fiddle with your leg and we’ll assess the damage. There’s some deep muscle issues here, just above your knee, I think, and then at the back of your calf which came more from the way you landed – some broken glass which was strategically placed just so I could bring my tweezers. No, really, that should be fine too. It’s all up in the air, though. Be excited about it. This is recovery day one.”

“Thanks a bunch, asshole,” Millie commented dryly. Cael smirked at her and left the room briefly to get his bag. He returned with some scissors and a smaller pair of tweezers which he handed over to her with a smirk.

“I don’t recommend trying to stand, Keiran,” Cael added as an afterthought, throwing Millie’s wand over to her. She caught it lithely and stuck it behind her ear with a smile. “You stand and you rip more up of yourself by moving injured muscle and we’re off the board, let alone back to square one. So, a nice healthy Wingardium Leviosa will do the trick, I think. In fact, do you want to take this?” Cael held up the needle and stitching reel.

Millie looked at him like he’d grown another head. “You’re joking.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m quite serious. They’re not deep but they do require a bit of stitching. I think you can do it.”

“I can’t sew.” She spluttered. “And I’m not going to start by playing pin cushion with my husband.”

“Think of it as a trust exercise,” Cael waved his hand through the air. “And you can sew. Everyone can sew.”

With that said, Cael excused himself and Millie ducked back into the bathroom to set the things down. She leaned over the bath and plugged it, letting the water fill up the tub. She poured a little bit of bath crème into it and let the bubbles work their way up. She waved her hand through them, bringing them back down level again and once the bath was up as high as she knew it needed to be she turned off the taps.

Returning to the bedroom, Millie looked at Keiran apologetically as she leaned over to kiss him.

“Trust exercise,” she mumbled against his lips. Millie pulled away and smiled fondly at him. “I promise I won’t stab you too much.” Then, kissing him properly, she lingered for a while, bringing her hand to his cheek before nudging his nose with hers. “I love you,” she murmured. “Let me take care of you, ‘kay?”

With a flick of her wand, Millie levitated Keiran through into the bathroom and set him gingerly down onto the loo briefly, putting her wand handle between her teeth as she began to unwind his wrappings. She inclined her head, calling in the cup of tea, and it set itself down on the side of the bath. She then unravelled his torso, freeing his skin to breathe and for the first time since she’d gone into the living room the night before, seeing him bloody and unconscious, she managed to get the full scope of what had happened to him.

“Bloody hell,” she mumbled, her mind idly recognising the irony of it seeing as some dried blood was interspersed across his chest where Cael had dabbed it away but not entirely. She leaned over, unable to help herself, and took the wand from between her teeth before pressing her lips to his shoulder.

“Bastard,” she muttered about his assailant, her hands continuing to work as she took her lips along the unblemished areas of skin, tugging them along his neck. She tossed some of the bandages onto the floor and continued to take it all off, some bits specked here and there with blood. They made a rising pile on the tiles and as she found his lips she kissed him firmly, thoroughly, and pulled back only to look at him pointedly.

“You know that plan about going back to school as soon as poss?” she queried, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Not happening, mister man.” She kissed him again quickly before taking off the last of the bandages around his middle, content to find that though he looked devastated, he didn’t look as though he’d fall apart. She whistled lowly, letting the last bandages tumble through her fingers, and ran her gaze over him.

“Right,” she said decisively, “let’s get you in this bath, shall we?”

She thought twice a little about the bandages about his legs but she took them off anyway with a slice of her wand, letting them tumble to the floor. It was then that she understood half what Cael had been talking about. She shook her head and pressed a kiss to each knee before flicking her wand, vanishing his boxers which had been the only item of clothing to survive the embalming process. She arched an eyebrow playfully and brought her lips back to his, muttering to him that she was glad something had survived uninjured. Then, she laughed a little, kissed him firmly, and with her wand she levitated him over to the bath, smirking all the while. Once he was enveloped into the warm water, she sat herself down on the side and cocked her wand behind her ear, grabbing after the sponge.

“This is so mad,” she commented, dropping the sponge into the water. She curled her fingers round it, squeezed it and brought it up once more, pressing it onto the top of his shoulder, letting the water run down over him in its rivulets. “I never thought I’d be doing this.” She brought the sponge back down into the water again and lifted it up to the other shoulder. “Let’s never do it again, okay? We’ll just go on holiday for a long weekend somewhere, instead. I think that’s more fun for the whole family.”

Millie smirked and tentatively brought the sponge softly against the first set of stitches, dabbing them carefully, watching Keiran intently for any sign of discomfort. Then, a thought occurred to her and conceding his expression and the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to teeter on the edge of the bath and take his stitches out, Millie dropped the sponge and pulled her t-shirt – well, technically his – over her head. She tossed away from her and her shorts and underwear followed into the heap. She swung her legs over the side of the bath and plopped herself into the water, grateful for their decision to increase the size of the bath. Here it was coming in handy.

“Okay,” she expressed, finding herself in a better position to get at him now. “Better. There you are,” she smiled at him, picking up the sponge. “Don’t forget the tea, okay?” She pointed to the cup waiting on the side.

Merlin, she thought to herself as she poured water over his chest with the sponge, her other hand trailed out in search of the scissors and tweezers she’d been given and she held them for a moment waiting as the rest of the blood soaked away into the water, disappearing amongst the bubbles and their bodies. What’s become of us?

She's just being gentle, Keiran reminded himself over and over. That was why it was so drawn out. She's afraid, too. But he was the one who was meant to fill the role of cowardly Slytherin at least part time, when he wasn't playing off his Hufflepuff half. Somehow he had failed to take on his mother's Gryffindor spirit. So he clenched his jaw, wondering if he wouldn't come away with muscle damaged he caused himself from doing so too frequently. His eyes stared at the ceiling, the paint blurring and the light filling up his gaze.

He had woken with a headache, as Millie had assured him he would. After everything, he couldn't find it in him to be surprised that she knew more uses for his medication than Cael seemed to. No, she had more of a history than he did when it came to that, and yet she somehow managed to appear more stable to those around him. He had made up with Robin not long ago, and even after her own problems, Avery seemed so normal. Keiran didn't see what Robin was saying about her having changed. And yet she had sat there and given him a slightly disappointed look. Somehow he had done something worse in her eyes than her own actions over Christmas, and that astounded him. Upon later investigation, though, it turned out that the blonde had been more disappointed in herself than in him, but had seen bits of Robin in the older man that scared her.

Avery had walked in just as Robin confessed that he didn't feel like himself anymore, because of everything that had happened between them. In that moment, over Robin's shoulder, Keiran had been forced to watch the woman's physical reaction as her heart shattered. Her eyes had darted about the room, but before Robin could turn to see what Keiran was staring at, a too-large smile had been plastered over in place of the devastated, wobbling lower lip. She had made her way across the room to set herself in his lap, and the rest of their conversation had proven to Keiran that he was not the only one who boxed himself up into little bits and pieces. He knew - just as she did - that a discussion would be had. And so it was; the two friends chiding each other for lying or failing, in turn, and while their relationship was better, it was still tarnished.

Somehow, over those next few months, he had seen Robin go back to himself to some extent, and has watched as Avery never broke character in front of her husband. Was that what his life was going to become, too? Pretending nothing hurt? Pretending that while, yes he had been pretty much ridiculous off the medication the night before, he wasn't of the impression that the world around him would collapse if he disappeared? Because he wasn't convinced that things would actually change.

The twins would continue to not know their father, set instead on the many willing male figures that were part of Millie's life. The options were surprisingly varied, and he was left wondering if he had even helped anyone by starting that school.

Injuries did things to a person - made them look on things in one of two ways: as if every thing that happened as a miracle, or as though it would be better to just toss it all. Because if they were so helpless as a broken entity, what good were they regularly? But then it made him ask why he didn't think he was able to choose the first way. He chalked it up to the affair and the attack and most of all Christmas Eve. Even as an able-bodied individual with experience and physical abilities brought about through athletics and the rest, Keiran had been unable to stop any of those things.

And no, he was no hero or god or anything that could have ensured his potential to halt any actions of others. And yet he could find many a reason to pin those all on himself. Especially since he didn't know the people who actually caused any of them - the murderer, Alfie, the Death Eater who found out about them. It was hard to blame an invisible figure when his own body bore the image of one which karma had destroyed in retribution.

To some extent, then, he could blame himself rather than the people who considered him unfit for the roles he filled. He could understand the look Avery gave him or the reactions he would receive when the public found out he had left them to join a rescue mission that likely had enough people already. It was a miracle, really, that he hadn't been hurt in the battle with James and his pack. Worse, though, was not remembering exactly what had happened. Had he gotten there before them? After? He was sure he could recall the screams and cries of Trisha and Adrienne respectively. But he had not been given word about their states. For all he knew they were fine. That, or someone was of the impression that he would get worse if he were told the truth.

Honestly, he supposed he might. Guilt could destroy a person; clearly, because it had already done a number on Keiran.

Then Millie was leaning over him that first time and he blinked up at her, wondering when exactly he had become such a pessimist. He supposed it might have come from his faltered trust, but that was almost ironic considering how Millie and Cael termed her endeavor to help him. A trust exercise. A test in his ability to sit by and hope she didn't hurt him.

Keiran wasn't at all worried about her fixing him up, though, so it wasn't too much of a test of the man's patience. No, he was more concerned about whether or not they would go back to normal after he was better. Normal, of course, meaning distant and confused and quiet. He certainly didn't want that to happen. So he offered a quiet, "Of course. I know you'll do just fine."

Now, caught up to where this drawn out explanation began, Keiran found himself wishing she would just finish with her endeavors to remove the bandages. The attention and kisses were admittedly pleasant, but the longer it took, the larger the pause between new parts of him becoming open to the air. Each one felt like a prick of ice, and eventually he just closed his eyes and waited.

Millie's words made him crack open one eye to look at her with a bemused expression. Yes, she would take note of that, wouldn't she? Taking everything negatively was exhausting, so he pushed away the realization that if things had been worse, that bit of him wouldn't matter. But he was determined that he would get better enough to make everything up to her. He would walk and fall back into his boxes and be what he should have been. Then everything would work out better, as it had been before he told her what his MO really was.

She moved back, and levitation was suddenly his least favorite thing. Realizing that it would be a frequent occurrence over the duration of his rehabilitation, Keiran decided that he would have to just tell himself that it was a good thing he hadn't taken up Charms as a profession instead of Transfiguration. This would certainly take away the almost nutty love he had for the subject were it switched around as such. But he was settled in the water and he had to let out a sigh as the warmth took over. His head fell back against the edge of the bath, eyes closing for a moment before opening so he could look at her from his almost too relaxed position.

The water stung a bit as it passed over the cuts, but Keiran attributed that to the liquid cleaning the severed parts of him. At least Cael hadn't suggested alcohol or something equally evil in situations like this one. Whatever had been done to him was a bastard on its own, aside from the person that Millie had cursed before. Magic-repelling curses made it so much harder; Keiran had only ever heard of one or two at most, and each time it was explained like a rumor or something that perhaps could exist but probably didn't. So he had nowhere to go, even in all of the knowledge that he had absorbed through years and years of school and, yes, higher education. Through research and everything else, he had yet to come across something like what had happened to him.

His nose wrinkled in slight discomfort, but he kept quiet. When the movements halted, though, Keiran lifted his head, about to ask if something had gone wrong. His gaze fell over himself, unable to find anything besides the obvious. But then he realized that Millie was dropping fabric on the floor. Then the water rose and she was settled next to him. The arms that had draped over the edges of the bath relaxed to some extent. The hand closest to her ignored the pain it caused Keiran's shoulder as it drifted to her hair, twirling the ends around his index finger.

"You know I've never been one for tea," he jested, though the joke flopped and he did as he was asked, his hand leaving her hair alone to take up the tea and sending a good bit of it down his throat. Keeping it in hand felt wise, if only to keep from having to move too much. Though, really, he had heard that moving helped injuries. Or was that just sore muscles like ones you got after picking up something too heavy? Probably. So he was going to stick to the not moving much idea.

"I'm not going to fall apart, Missie. You can do this," he assured her as she went for the clips. He nodded firmly, tipping back the cup again. Deciding it was a better plan to set the cup down before she started cutting, he downed it in one go and put it to the side. "Do your worst!" He told her, the corner of his mouth quirking up so she wouldn't take him seriously. And, for the record, reader and thread stalkers, he definitely wasn't staring at her. Nope. Not even a bit.

Concentration face on, steady hands were summoned. Between her teeth, Millie pressed her tongue, the barest tip of it peeking out through the gap in her lips. Her breath moved in and out softly between the slithers of rosy skin and she slowly got her fingers together enough to brandish the scissors. Her eyes blinked up to Keiran’s face at his words and she flicked her wrist at him, a dark eyebrow rising in subtle challenge to his point. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed that he wouldn’t fall apart when he was unzipped, as it were. Also:

“Shut up and drink it,” she berated, her mouth forming into a smirk all the same. “You can put up for tea for five seconds. Besides, I wasn’t the one who made it. Otherwise you’d have gotten coffee. But then you would have been wired and pain free so let’s be glad we don't have to play that game shall we?”

Her tongue returned to the little gap it found between her sharp canine and the bottom set and she bit down as she held the scissors steady, her hand absently coming to brace herself on a patch of unbroken skin on his arm. Bringing the blades to the hastily sewn cut, pulled taut and shut across the right hand side, left to her, she hesitantly caught the stitch knot in between the teeth of the scissors. Then, pressing down gently, the blades sliced off the knot. She brought her hand out, the last bits of her Chaser reflexes catching hold of it and reaching to set it on the rim. She pursed her lips then, noting the way the skin loosened a little.

“Fudging sewing,” she grumbled. “Would you like to be a doily, love, or my new skirt?” She waggled her eyebrows at him, a laugh coming forth and she turned her gaze back to the stitching. She exhaled lowly and brought her brows down low over her eyes, concentration returning as with her other hand she took up the tweezers and slowly but surely began to lift out the stitch line like shoes laces, pulling at the visible loop to tease out the bit underneath. Once she reached the end of the line, that joined the knot on the side and she looked at the cut properly.

It gaped at her a little, surprised, almost, at the disturbance. She brought the sponge up, squeezing it between her fingers to drain the excess water, and dabbed at it, washing away any invisible little mites that might have thought to take a liking to him. Then, putting the scissors between her teeth, she dropped the sponge and moved back, towards the taps, reaching up onto the side, rising up a little out of the water, for a fresh, clean, soft flannel. She returned to him and folded the flannel, pressing it against the cut to make sure it was dry.

“Are you feeling any of this?” She asked carefully, eyeing the cup, wondering if he might have served better with a stronger dosage. “I can remember when they had to take the stitches out of me after…” She brought her lips together briefly and shook her head, deciding not to go on with the after and decided to pick the better, more interesting and relevant part of the tale. “But it was some sort of knobhead undergrad research placement kid or whatever. Shaky hands and all the rest. Had to have some put back in because he buggered it up so well. Idiot. So that’s why I’ve kind of got this line here,” she ran her fingers briefly over the skin just beneath her belly button and shrugged her shoulders.

“So, lucky for you, you have your knobhead wife whose qualification rests solely in in darning socks, once, for her great gran.” Millie went on briefly, pressing the flannel against the cut again before discarding it somewhere dry to pick up again. Then she went into the thread and the needle and moved backwards again in search of something to sterilise the needle. In the end, she grabbed up her wand and lit the end of it and fluttered the needle through the flame before extinguishing it and tossing her wand away.

Different skill entirely, that. Yet, having binged on medical dramas, police dramas and all the rest of it while pregnant and bored out of her mind, Millie had picked up a few things which she wasn’t sure you were meant to use in real life but she was keen to give it a go, at least. Swallowing, she looped a bit of thread through the needle and brought her hand to the cut. She pinched the skin together and paused, needle brandished, terrified for a moment that she might totally screw it up. She reopened her eyes, not realising she’d closed them.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled to herself. “Don’t do that. Focus.”

Talking to herself was the last of her crimes, she figured. Bringing the needle to his skin she held it there for a moment, marvelling in the contrast of the cool metal and his warm frame. Then she pressed down with the tip and brought the needle underneath. She pushed it forward until the point came out of the other side, knitting the first bit together, and she pulled it carefully, bringing it out and the stitching through. She took through as much as she thought she’d need and leaned forward, pulling tight the thread between her fingers and she cut it off with her teeth. She then put the wheel down and let go of the breath she’d been holding onto. She could do this.

Following alone the line, just as Cael had instructed, she brought the lips of the cut together and soon enough it was closed and tightly so, too. She gave it a careful tug, feeling the strength of the knot she’d made, and then took the other end of the thread out, knotting that up and reaching for the scissors to cut off the excess. Then with the sponge once more she dabbed at the line, cleaning away anything that lingered and she pushed herself back to admire her handiwork.

“A healer yet I could make,” she announced proudly. “Eat your heart out, Cael. Bam.” She grinned brightly and then moved onto the next, a couple of patches a skin away from its brother.

The same process followed but as she grew in confidence, method, speed and efficiency came together to make it an easier endeavour. She’d remove the hastily inserted ones, make sure the wound was clean and then slightly dry before sewing the skin back up. Then she’d clean it again and move on to the next until slowly but surely the dodgy, harried, panicked stitches were replaced by ones that were indicative of time taken and a higher level of care that came with the leisure of her ministrations. She was mindful all the while of his pain, unsure that he’d been given enough potion to deal with it. Then, she found herself without anything to do any more with. His shoulders and his leg she knew not to touch, on the other leg they were somewhat superficial scratches and an almighty bruise was forming – showing, perhaps, how he was stood when the curse hit him. There were a few places where the glass had dug into him but they weren’t in need of stitching, just some salve.  

“Wow,” she sat back, lifting her arms up onto the side of the bath. “Done,” she expressed brightly.

The water was still hot and she was infinitely glad, as well as of the size, of the heating charms put on it, too. Millie leant back and dipped underneath the water, letting it ebb up over her before rising out again, her body damp and warmed through. She wiped her hands across her face, up through her hair and she grinned at him, giving an excited little squeal that was highly unbecoming of her in truth but her excitement at having done it, having not killed him in the process, was too much for her. She reached up and grasped his face in her hands before kissing him soundly.

“Fixed you,” she proclaimed with a laugh. “And not a single drop of blood taken from you. Look at that. I’d offer to take a look at the other bits and bobs but I don’t have a hidden proficiency with sorting out miscellaneous damage so, alas, that will have to be left to Healer Ivanov, eh?”

She leaned back again, dropping herself into the water’s warmth and she gave a contented moan as it teased out the knots in her neck and her shoulder blades, betraying her tension somewhat. But the benevolence of the water eased that out of her and she flicked her feet out a little as they straightened either side of Keiran. The tape was in the bedroom still. That would be the next plan of action once he was dried off and dressed and all the rest.

“Bath was a great idea,” she declared, stretching in the water. She slowly brought herself up to sitting again. “Do you want me to wash your hair or anything?” she asked, amending, “I’m not trying to treat you like an invalid. You can probably do it. I just, think it might be nice, maybe. Little bit of pampering never hurt anyone and hey – this is a whole different level of spousal bonding, this. So, why not enjoy it?”

She didn’t know why she felt so nervous all of a sudden. It had come over her quickly. She smiled sheepishly. She intended to do her hair regardless. It wouldn’t take her long. Nevertheless she felt like she should extend some sort of peace offering to Keiran. She gathered a few bubbles and began to play with them idly, unsure and for a minute feeling utterly and completely foolish. Spousal bonding, indeed.

Keiran wasn't sure what event Millie was referring to when she went on about stitches, but he chalked that up to his being very focused on not moving while she worked. "I'm fine, Mills," he answered finally, trying to soothe her after the moments when she'd closed her eyes in what he could only assume was fear. Maybe a bout of nerves. Either way, he kept on with, "Experience or not, I trust you'll be careful with me."

Truthfully, it was his leg that worried him the most when he gave himself a good once-over. It was what made Cael worry most, too, which in itself was... well... worrisome. Shaking off that list of conjugations, Keiran continued to watch her with a sort of morbid curiosity and couldn't help but feel like he was having an out of body experience. The needle moved in and out of him, but he hardly recognized the sensation. Instead he let his arms relax once she had finished with them, dropping his hands into the water. Although the stitching took a good while, Keiran hardly minded, what with the warmth and the general feeling of being looked after.

An eyebrow lifted in amusement, trying to absorb Millie's enthusiasm and create for himself a more pleasant demeanor. That, of course, was only made easier when she took up his face in her hands to kiss him. It registered, unhelpfully, that neither had dared be even this physical in their affections for quite some time. Even after he had stopped worrying after the affair and tried to change to suit his family more properly. Apparently it had taken something this drastic to kick them both in the ass to get their issues sorted out.

Keiran shouldn't have been surprised at her offer. Really, he had no right to be. Any person who really cared about the other would probably take to being over-cautious and protective. If it had been the other way around, once could bet that he would have been staying home from the school regardless of what had happened and regardless of his previous fears.

"Millie, you are just freaking out," he said finally, laugh lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. "I may not be able to do some things myself, but I'm not going to fall to bits, either. And yeah, I'm going to complain about things when I normally wouldn't, but if you seem scared, it'll make me nervous too. So if you want to do it, go ahead. If not, then we'll just leave it."