theshabbiestofmen | IC Contact;

I already told you, I'd do anything to save James! I don't care-- if it's murder, if it's--

Jesus! None of you understand it! You think you do, but you don't, you're just-- thinking of right now-- [He turns away, shoving his fingers through his hair, a fierce movement.] I saw him! The other you, the older you, I saw him, and things were shit! I lived without James here, for months, and that was bad, but at least he was out there somewhere-- I'd put anything at stake if it means he gets to stay alive!

[His eyes burn again, and he shakes his head.]

As I said: I'm his mate as well. And if you think I-- I don't care about him being killed, about James being killed--

I know you care. I know you do, I'm not-- Christ, Remus, I'm not saying you don't care. I'm saying--

[He turns away again, sharply, shoving his fingers through his hair--and then once more,his mouth drawn.]

Look. You don't understand. You didn't see-- you, the other Remus. I did.

[He stares at him for a few long seconds before rubbing his face.]

Tell me, then.

[He stares over his shoulder at Remus--and then he looks away again, his face closing up. How the hell does he explain this? How the hell does he make sense of this thing that makes very little sense, how does he put into words the look in his eye--and he swallows, hard; he pushes his fingers through his hair--]

He was just-- old. He was really old. But he wasn't. He'd just seen so much that he-- that he seemed old, because he saw nearly everyone die. Or he thought he had, anyways, and then he died, and it's all because-- because James gets betrayed.

It all starts there. And I know he would have wanted us to stop it. However the hell we could, he'd want that, because it would be worth it.

[He listens this time, really listens properly-- it's hard, because he doesn't want to, because he wants Sirius to stop acting like this, he wants everything to go back to normal, he wants to not believe-- but there's something bleak in Sirius' expression now, something he can't quite ignore.]

We can't.

[He says that bleakly, quietly.]

We can't kill him, Sirius. He's our friend. And he's . . . he's blaming himself, he's wracked with guilt-- we'll figure something else out. Anything. But we can't kill him.

[His face tightens up immediately at that; his fingers clench into fists--the last thing he wants to hear about is how sad Peter is, how he ought to feel sorry for him--he doesn't feel sorry for him, he doesn't, he can't let himself--if he does, it all goes to shit, all of it, he has to stay with what he's feeling right now or else he's going to question himself.

And he can't question himself. He knows what it feels like to be without James for a bit. Worse is to think of that forever. Worse is to think that that could happen to him--to them--and so, so bloody soon.]

We can't kill him. And we've got to be friends with him. That's what you're saying, yeah?

I don't think you have to do anything. But I'm not going to-- to throw him to the wolves simply because of something he hasn't yet done. That's not fair and you know it.

But you're going to. You and James. So where does that leave me? Merlin, Remus--

[He sets his teeth together as he turns away yet again, scratching his fingers fiercely through his hair.]

I'm fucking sick of this. All of this, all-- all of it.

I know.

[He sighs.]

I am as well. But we've got to figure it out once and for all. And . . . perhaps it's better we do it now. That we get it over with, instead of just ignoring it.

[He nods, tightly--still looking away from Remus, still with his shoulders held high and his mouth tight. Another beat and he shoves his fingers through his hair again.]

I'm not going to go make nice with him. [I can't; he doesn't add it, but it's true.] I'm keeping away, until we get everything-- sorted.

[He nods. That's probably the best idea. There's some small part of him that wants to keep pushing until Sirius talks further sense; to make him stop blaming this version of Peter and at least be civil-- but he'll take what he can get.]

All right. And-- I'll stay with you. Going between both of you. If you'll have me.

Like I'd be able to stop you.

[He says it gruffly--and he's still not completely over this; all is not completely forgiven, even here--but it's better than it was, it's something, at least. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares at the floor.]

So that's it, then?

I-- yes. I suppose officially, yes. But you should stay. I haven't seen you in days.

I've been around.

[Just because the timing of it has sort of ensured that Remus isn't around at the same time doesn't mean anything. He shrugs, kicking his heel against the floor for a second before he looks determinedly up at Remus.]

D'you want a drink?

Yeah. You know what I like.

[Not that it matters; at a time like this, he'll drink anything Sirius hands him if it means forgetting a little.]

Where've you been kipping?

[He knows what Remus likes, but stores are limited, and his own stash even more so. He goes over to his stuff--the little piles of it on his bed and beside his bed and at the end of his bed--and starts hunting around for it.]

Around. I go over to Sera's for a bit sometimes, or the couches. Brunhilda has missed me, y'know.

[It's a weak attempt at a joke, but it's there.]

[He's startled into a soft laugh, little more than an exhalation.]

Is she still around? I'd thought you'd forgotten about her. How big is she?

Massive. Like house-cat size. It's a little terrifying, I'm sure she'd tear off my face if she had half the chance at it.

[But he says it with utter fondness, softening a little at this topic.]

So of course I've been sitting with her, scratching her ears.

Of course.

[He echoes it with a smile.]

She and Moony ought to get together. They'd make lovely playmates.

She might be a bit much for Moony, actually. All that radioactive teeth business, puts a damper on relationships. Trust me, I'd know.

Mm, I suppose you would. What do you even feed her?

Pieces of the ship.

Disgusting.

[He says it with a grin.]

And whiskey, I assume-- speaking of which, where's mine?

Keep your hair on, you're bloody impatient--

[He comes up with the bottle, finally, and holds it triumphantly toward Remus.]

Here. No glasses, sorry, unless you want to waste the time with conjuring them.

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