"Let's go to the kitchen and see what we can find," Michael said to Jess. He knew all too well the rawness that this all was resurrecting for not just Khaat but for everyone involved. It was a huge, old wound, and Michael didn't believe the wrenching it open entirely would help anyone. He wanted to cut this short before it did too much more damage.
Kate was having none of it, though, or of Robert. She had a million things racing through her mind, outraged that Robert would even think of aligning with Fenrir. Robert's ability to somehow push his emotions to the background so he could pursue logic was something Kate didn't entirely understand. It made him, at times, a very effective leader but there were times she hated him for it. This was one of those times.
Marcus had simply been sitting with Khaat. She hadn't said a word. She'd simply been, apparently, in her own thoughts. Or, perhaps in one of those odd seers spaces where he could not follow her into. He didn't know which.
For her part, she'd come to try to be close to Remus again. When she'd been small, he was the one she had always run to. That part of her that still wanted to be with him had come to the last place she knew he'd been. Well, physically, anyway. Hard as she tried, though, it didn't feel like he was here. It just felt empty and cold. Her pain potion was wearing off, and the damp coldness of the winter ground was starting to radiate and ache through the wound in her leg.
"Come on," Marcus finally said softly to her. "You can't stay here anymore. It will do you no good. You won't find here what you're looking for."
"He's betrayed him. And me," she finally said very softly.
"No," Marcus said. "No, much as I know it feels that way, its not what he's doing. Fenrir isn't a threat to Remus anymore. He's not really a threat to you either. James, however, is. And, right now, James is one of the most wanted men in our world. Your father has to consider every option to stop James once and for all. Look at how many years you've battled him. I doubt Remus would want you to put his memory between you and a mass murderer, would he? That doesn't sound like it honors what you've said Remus was all about. Would he want you to be here, like this, right now?"
"No," she said softly, "but he'd understand it at least."
"And you don't think your father does?"
"I don't think he gives a shit," she said. "He's a cold bastard when he wants to be."
"Yes," Marcus agreed. "He is. And because he is, there are a lot of people still alive who might not be otherwise. Look, you've got a big house. Stay in your room if you like, but at least go home and get warm. If you intend to connect with Remus, I don't think you'll do it here. From what you've said, he's more likely to deliberately not come here if he thinks it'll encourage you to come back to this godforsaken place."
"You're probably right," she said, half tempted to smile. That would definitely be like Remus, refusing to talk to her until she'd done what he wanted. He had a huge stubborn streak too. Marcus stood up. Then he put his hands under her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. She shivered now, and he wrapped himself around her.
"Let's go home," he said softly, drawing his wand and apparating them back home, back to her room, helping her to a chair.
"Well, that was stupid," the portrait of Remus piped up reprimandingly.
"And you're not helping," Marcus said back to the portrait. He picked up blanket and wrapped it around her. He found the bottle of firewhiskey that was always in the room and poured her a shot of it. He handed it to her and then lit the fire.
by 
