Just a Spoonful of Truth

"I always have cigarettes," Michael said. He flipped open the lid of a small wooden box on his desk that held cigarettes that he preferred to get handmade in Italy. It was an old wizarding shop that sold a number of potions and concoctions. The cigarettes weren't amongst their top products that wizards bought, but Michael still preferred them.

He set his firewhiskey bottle back out and set out a fresh glass. It was tough to watch a powerful wizard like Thaor blindsided and set upon a track that would lead to his death. And how what Michael couldn't get out of his mind was the memory of Thaor's ultimate choice of a resolution to it all. It hadn't been the first time he'd remembered Thaor's final moments. He wasn't bringing that into the conversation, though.

"You realize what this means, don't you?" Michael said, lighting one of the cigarettes for himself. "It means Robert can charge Pierce with Thaor's death. It means Pierce can be charged with murder."

Thaor became very dizzy as he walked to the cigarette desk. He could feel his heart beat begin to speed up. He was so full of so many emotions he felt overloaded. What he just watched was worse than anything he had experienced in his life.

His father had known everything to watch out for, he knew all the tricks of the trade, and yet, he was lured, tricked, and as Thaor saw it, murdered, that day in the Ministry.

As he reached for a cigarette, he stopped mid stride and clutched his left arm. A sharp pain filled his left arm, and his chest.

His eyes widened as he realized he was having a heart attack, and he collapsed at Michael's feet.

Michael saw the young man reacting badly to what he'd seen in the pensieve.  He saw him collapse to the floor. Michael recognized the rather classic signs of a heart attack, and had hit the alarm signal in his watch.  The alarm would summon a number of his allies, but he only needed one--and hopefully one that had some healing skills.

Michael knelt at Thaor's side, loosening the young man's collar. "You're not allowed to die, damnit," he cussed.  He half expected Thaor Sr's ghost to show up again and start giving him a hard time.  Thaor didn't always have impeccable timing, after all.

Michael missed the sound of someone porting in, but suddenly someone was pushing his hands out of the way.  

"Move," came the voice.  It was Khaat.  She had arrived and was elbowing Michael out of the way. She still only had use of one hand, but that hand still had healing abilities.

"He's having a heart attack," Michael said.

"Really," Khaat responded automatically. She had seen her mother's pensieve on Michael's desk, and she wanted to know what Michael was doing with it--and what it had to do with the heart issues of Thaor's son.  She laid her hand on Thaor's chest to regulate the rhythm.  "I've got a few questions for you, Michael," she said quietly. Thaor Jr. wasn't dead but if he survived, she hoped he could follow medical advice better than his father ever did.

Thaor knew he wasn't going to die, he couldn't, not knowing there was still things he needed to do. If he was anything, he was stubborn, he could thank his father for that. He refused to die until the man responsible for all of this was brought to justice.

He could hear Michael yelling something, but it was just background noise. He was in so much pain he could feel it. Not only was he having a heart attack, his heart was broken. Watching those threads validated his fathers death. He so often thought he would wake, and find it was all a terrible dream, and that his father was alive and well.

He began slipping in and out of consciousness as Khaat arrived, the last thing he remembered was looking into her eyes, as a tear fell from his own.

~~~
Thaor Sr. entered the room, and quickly noticed his son on the floor, Khaat attempting to revive him and Michael next to them. What have you done to my son. He yelled as he flew towards Michael, and went through him. Damn it he thought to himself, he kept forgetting he was a ghost, and couldn't actually hit people.

Suddenly Thaor was there, shouting at him. Michael saw Thaor bum rushing him, and he frowned, annoyed. He whirled around behind him after Thaor flew through him. It was disgusting. He felt slimed both inside and out. He snapped his fingers to open the lid of the chest that had held his boggart--which, at the moment, was running rampant through the house because Snidely had opened the damned box.

"Get in the box," Michael snapped at Thaor, pointing at the boggart box. "You don't get to slime me. Get in the box."

Khaat rolled her eyes at the two of them. They were both being ridiculous.

"He's not dead yet," she told Thaor. "But your arguing wont' help. Hope you've showed yourself to him before this because if not, now might not be the time to let him know you can still come around, you know."

"Like I said," Michael scowled at Thaor. "Get in the box."

Thaor Sr. couldn't take his eyes off of his son. There he lay, dying, and this was the first time since his death that he was in the same room as him.

Khaat was right, this wasn't the time, nor the place, for him to show himself to his son. Thaor would never be able to forgive himself if his son died before he had a chance to talk to him, he was sure Jr. had questions he wanted answered.

Thaor sighed before looking at Khaat. She was injured, and it was all his fault. He hoped Robert could forgive him. Well, I've already made an arse of myself, may as well keep up appearances. he thought to himself before resting his hand on Jr's head. Forgive me. he said as he flew through Khaat, and as quickly as he came, he disappeared.

Jr regained consciousness in time to see what he thought was his father. It couldn't be he thought to himself.

He looked to Michael, with an extremely puzzled look. I thought I saw...

Forgive him? What for? She wondered.

"Don't you run off before we talk," she shouted after him as she sensed him leaving. "He bloody knows you're here. You might as well come back now."

She looked at Thaor Jr. "You might as well know your father never follows the bloody rules. Not even now. You might as well make up your mind to live because he's a general pain in the arse, no matter which side of the veil he's on. If he listens to reason, I'll re-introduce you later. Its complicated."

She looked at Michael. "I need to be able to work. But we need to get him to St. Mungo's. You can port us?"

"Certainly," Michael said. He looked at Thaor Jr. "No objections to keeping you alive, I presume?"

Thaor's eyes widened with shock as Khaat told him his father had been a ghost since his death. He felt another sharp pain through his chest, but he'd have to deal with that later.

Thaor turned to Michael as he asked if he could port them to St. Mungo's. Not St. Mungo's, my office. he whispered. He didn't have time to waste, he needed to catch the man responsible, and bring him to justice.

Thaor slipped back into unconsciousness as he foolishly attempted to get to his feet, and hit his head Michael's side table, cutting a gash above his right eye.

"He's as big a git as his father," Michael sighed. "The 'I-don't-know-when-to-quit' thing must be genetic. By the way, didn't he just slime you too?"

"Yup," Khaat said. "Gonna need to shower for several hours, I think."

Michael laid one hand on Khaat and one on Thaor and ported them to St. Mungos, to their emergency room. It didn't take long for other healers to join Khaat and for her to get him stabilized. She wanted him to sleep and give his heart a rest.

She hoped she could get his father to reappear and she might convince Thaor Sr. to talk a bit of sense into his son. If not, she considered a sleep spell until he started to improve.