Who: Rita and Al Where: Al's room at the Longbottoms' place, obvs When: Sept 13th, afternoonish What: Frank told Al about Rita's Death Eater contact, and she can't bear to lie to him so she explains. A possible break-up ensues? Rating: PG-13 Status: Finished Log
The past many days had been long and upsetting for Rita. She was in a house she was fairly sure she wasn't welcome in, with things going on she was clearly not a part of, and the only distraction from this was watching her boyfriend heal from near death. She slept on couches sometimes, because when Dorcas climbed into bed with Al as she did most nights, Rita often felt compelled to leave the room. Many nights, though, she sucked it up and slept in the chair next to Al's bed. She desperately wanted things to be okay between them, but they never had a moment alone to talk. Rita wasn't good at being emotional, and it was a struggle when it was just Al, never mind when there was an audience. She didn't even know if her presence was welcome, or if they'd fix things when they finally did talk. Rita knew she wanted to, but she also knew that things had been in a strange place between them before all this. Just because it had made her realize she didn't want to live without Al, ever, didn't mean he felt the same way.
Regardless of what he had said before, Rita was finding it very hard to cope with watching another woman crawl into bed with Al, situations aside, and it shook her every damn time. She was feeling less and less sure of her place at Al's side, and so she was spending more and more time drinking coffee in the kitchen, or sitting with Pepper outside and smoking.
Which is what she had been doing for the last hour before coming back inside, freshening up in the bathroom, and then heading in to check on Al.
She was surprised to find his room empy besides him, and she felt a strong wave of relief as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. She had missed him, and she missed him still, and she thought that now, perhaps, they could actually talk, sort things out.
Rita sat down next to his bed and said softly, "Hi."
Al's mind was reeling, which wasn't a particularly nice feeling when his concentration had felt like it was slipping all over the place to begin with. He had never been a particularly focused individual, but this sensation was different. He wondered, vaguely, what sort of long term effects days of torture had on someone's head. But then he promptly pushed that thought aside. He was going to be fine. He had to be fine. People needed him. He just had to get over the battered state of his body first.
But this was different. He trusted Frank with his life. They'd been best friends since the train station before they'd ever gotten to school. They'd gone through some of the most important things in their lives together and he'd been there through his last year of shit at school. He was his best friend along with Pepper. So it was natural to believe him, without question. Because Frank wouldn't lie to him. Not about this.
That wasn't just the problem though. A death eater contact. Rita knew a Death Eater. And beyond that, she was hiding it from him. After all of this. After how many days? Three days? Something like that, anyway. Too long, at the hands of Death Eaters.
Now though, he lifted his head, which was just about as much as he'd bothered to move these days. That and rolling from his side to his back and very, very brief periods of sitting up. Merlin, he felt terrible. And still, terrible was a vast improvement from where he'd been.
"Hey," he greeted quietly, grappling still, with how to approach this.
"How are you feeling?" Rita asked, reaching out tentatively to take one of his hands. She had to ease into it, the conversation about them and where they stood. She couldn't just jump right in, even if they did likely have limited time. "You still look like shite."
It was true. But he looked a little better than he had when she'd first seen him. The first time she'd seen him, hours after he'd been brought back, her heart had almost stopped. She had the good sense to stay out of the way, though, and keep herself from getting hysterical. Rita had never much been one for hysteria, even if she did was stare in horror and dig her fingernails so far into her palms she made herself bleed all over. Now, he looked at least like he was going to live, and before they hadn't been sure. So that was better.
Al let her take his hand, idly, automatically threading his fingers in hers for a moment. "About the same as I look, probably," he answered, letting his eyes drift shut for a moment. He couldn't let this get too far away from him. It was just so hard to focus and keep his head in the same place. One thing at a time, he supposed. He didn't have the patience nor the energy to dance around it and he was dangerously close to just letting the whole thing drop for a moment of comfort instead.
He couldn't though, he reminded himself and after a beat, he pulled his hand and slowly, with much more effort than he wanted to admit or even think about, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, propped up against pillows and the headboard. The effort alone made him look and feel even more tired and for a moment, he scrambled for what he was supposed to talk to her about.
Finally, he said very simply: "Talked to Frank last night."
As he strugged to sit up, Rita got to her feet and helped him, panic snapping sharp in her exhausted brain. The worry was clear on her face as she helped him, murmuring, "Al don't, you'll only hurt yoursef."
When his words registered, however, she gently let him go and sat back down next to him, looking up at Al. He'd spoken to Frank? About what? For one long moment, she couldn't even recall what exactly Frank might have to say that might merit a serious conversation between Al and Rita. Did he tell Al how Rita had forced herself into his home? How he hadn't wanted to let her in? Would Al tell her he was glad she'd pushed her way in, or would he be upset she'd gone where she clearly wasn't wanted?
Then her aching heart and frazzled brain seemed to catch up to her, and she realized it wasn't about that at all. Frank must have told Al what she'd said in the journals, what she'd made him promise he wouldn't. She felt the regret spread through her. She regretted telling Frank, sure, but mostly she regretted keeping it from Al in the first place. She should have far more loyalty to him than to some dark man she'd just met who claimed to be working to put an end to the war.
Still, what was done was done. Now she just had to find out what Al knew and what on earh she could say about it. Rita met Al's eyes and just asked, "Did you? What did he say?"
Al idly picked at a loose string in the blanket. Even sitting made him somewhat uncomfortable, cost him another glance over the room, eyes lingering in the shadows of the corners as if Bellatrix Lestrange might walk out of them. It was frantic, but gone just as quickly as it'd come and he returned his attention to Rita.
"Said you had a contact. A Death Eater contact that might be able to give us some insight. Could help us protect ourselves. But that you wouldn't say who." His eyes flicked to her face, hitwizard habit, even now, to take in the effect his words had had on her.
Maybe any other time Rita could've kept up the charade, but with Al broken in bed after days of torture at the hands of Death Eaters, and with things still so rocky between them, she couldn't bring herself to lie. She just looked at him sadly and nodded.
"I thought so. But then again, maybe he wouldn't have been able to do anything. I just thought-- I would've done anything to get you back. I've never felt like that, the way I did while you were missing and once we got you back but weren't sure if you'd live."
She looked down at her hand, the one that had been holding his for a moment there, and wished that he'd take it again. She'd reached out to him, and though he hadn't rebuffed her at first, facts were facts. Eventually, he'd pulled his hand away, and hadn't taken it again. She wouldn't make him touch her if he didn't want to. No matter how much she missed him. She was trying not to be selfish, not protesting the way Dorcas slept with him, not making him hold her hand, not inflicting her presence on him when others came who clearly needed to talk to him about things Rita wasn't involved in.
It made her feel horrible, but she was trying not to be so bloody selfish. She couldn't lose him.
"I shouldn't have told Frank, but I should have told you," she finally added, voice soft.
Al didn't like the confirmation. Not at all. He didn't like that Frank was right, not this time. His mind wandered back to one of those days. The first day? He couldn't tell any more. Whenever he'd gotten the burns that had mangled the skin on his back and up one side. He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the memory. He didn't want to think about it.
The confession that she should have told him, well, yes. Obviously. That was beside the point though. "How long?" he asked, still quiet, not even an edge to his tone. Not yet, anyway.
Thinking back to the first time, getting Severus thrown out of the bar, then overhearing that damn prophecy, the event that had sucked her into all of this, Rita wondered if her answer would make things better or worse. Would he think it less of a transgression that she simply hadn't informed him of the situation when they got back together, rather than actively hiding a new development. Still, was it really any better? It just meant she'd been lying to him for longer.
"Since before we got back together," Rita answered softly. "And it's not... it's not quite as bad as it seems. He isn't an active Death Eater."
Al frowned further. A longer relationship with a Death Eater than with him. Inactive or not. He hadn't been under the impression that they were active. They were in the middle of a war, of course they were active. And did they all react like Bellatrix? How many more people had suffered and died at her hands? They all sounded like sick fucks as far as Al was concerned, and he thought he got a pretty big say, considering how long he'd spent at their hands.
He pulled at the string in the blankets again, jaw slightly clenched before he asked another question. "Could he have helped? With me I mean. To... to bring me back."
"No. He said everything is different now," Rita said, and decided that she had to explain everything now. She wasn't going to protect Severus at the expense of her relationship with Al. "He's not... really a Death Eater anymore, and he couldn't have gotten you out even if he wanted to. He doesn't really have the ability anymore. Okay, look. A year from now, something really bad happened, and he used a time turner to come back in time. He's trying to bring about the end of the war, and for some reason he asked me to help him. Just one time, and that would've been it, except then... then I overheard a prophecy. And you know me, I got curious and I tracked him down, and then... well. Then things went from there. I don't talk to him often. He hasn't given me many other tasks, just information. But now... now too much has changed. He still has information, but he doesn't know specifics, not anymore."
She looked at Al quietly for a moment, and wondered if he'd even believe her. She knew it sounded kind of wild, but it was true. She just hoped he didn't ask about the prophecy. She didn't want to get into that. It had been fucked up enough to go through the first time. She tried not to think about it, ever, if possible. For now, she just waited to see what his reaction was going to be.
Al blinked. And stared. He wondered, vaguely, if he had missed a potion and that this was some epically fucked dream. Or if he'd taken too many and he was hallucination, or maybe he was just hearing things because none of that made sense. Not a word of it. Someone who was a Death Eater, but wasn't a Death Eater any more, because he didn't have the ability ("What the fuck?" he thought). Time turners and prophecies and a year from now?
His head was spinning all over again and he didn't know what to say. He hardly knew how to react. Al turned his head to count his potions and furrowed his brow as he looked at her. "...You didn't take any of those did you?" he asked, motioning toward the stockpile of glass vials and bottles that had been kept here. "Because I think they're really strong and I don't think you're allowed."
"No, I didn't," she said softly. "Ask Pepper if you don't believe him. I've been with him the last few hours."
She gave him some more time to process, just sitting quietly and looking at him. She hadn't planned on telling him so she hadn't prepared an explanation. Probably none of what she'd said made sense, probably Al was too hopped up on potions to understand.
"I'm telling the truth, Al. I know it's crazy, but I wouldn't lie to you, not now," Rita all but whispered.
Al grappled with it for a moment longer, but the whole process of trying to keep his focus on this was tiring and it wasn't getting him anywhere. None of it made sense. Not any of it. Finally though, at her last whispered words, he furrowed his brow at her.
"Not now? Merlin, Rita, you've been in contact with a Death Eater for months and you're not lying to me? Do you have any idea how fucking bollocks all of that sounds? Did you even ask him if he'd be able to help, if he knew anything? Do you eve--" He sighed and stopped. Raising his voice hurt, it strained the mangled, burnt muscles in his abdomen. He shook his head.
"This is ridiculous. You should go."
Rita shook her head and shifted closer. She couldn't leave now, not with him mad at her again. She wanted to fix things, not make things first. It was scary to her to know she needed him, to know she was terrified of needing him but needed him anyway. It was even more scary to fight now, now that she'd been forced to face the idea of life without him.
"No, I won't go. Al, don't-- don't hurt yourself, please, just calm down," she said, standing and putting a hand on his chest. "I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell anyone. I only told Frank because I was so worried about you I wasn't thinking straight. I get that you're upset, but don't pretend like you don't have secrets from me. I know you do. I know you do. Frank didn't want to let me in because he didn't want a reporter inside."
Al shied away, pushing her hand off of him in his irritation. "Don't touch me," he snapped. It hurt to fight, but he wasn't going to just sit here for this. "Do you want to know what my big fucking secret was Rita? Why this happened? Because I was sabotaging a Ministry investigation against my best friends. Because I was feeding bad information and I was keeping them safe from a Death Eater run Ministry and I got caught. For protecting the people I care about. So there's my big secret." Which was oddly lacking in time turners and prophecies and death eaters from the future.
"No. Leave. This is fucking absurd, Rita." His head hurt and it'd been too long since he'd had a potion for the burns. It was doing nothing for his mood and he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with a sleeping draught. This was too much for him.
It hurt, hearing him tell her to leave. She wondered if it'd hurt him when she'd told him to leave. What she did know was that it had hurt her when he had left, and then this had happened. Sure, the situation was different, but she couldn't walk away, not quite yet.
"I won't touch you anymore, I promise. Just please calm down," Rita pleaded, stepping back from the bed, her voice shaking. She breathed slowly, as though encouraging him to do the same, and watched him for a second. "You didn't tell me that, any of it. Look, you were doing what you thought was right. I was doing what I thought was right. Please, you have to understand."
Al furrowed his brow, looking no more impressed than he had. "This isn't remotely the same. I don't even know how you can compare them and think it's even close." Her constant pleas for him to calm down weren't improving his mood, not at all and he was nearly glaring, a look he hadn't pulled off since before he'd come back.
"I asked you to leave," he added firmly, not looking at her any longer.
Tears filled Rita's eyes and though he wasn't looking at her, she looked away and composed herself, wiping her face dry before speaking.
"I guess if that's what you want," she said, voice catching a bit. At least she knew now where she stood. He didn't want to see her. There was no point staying at the Longbottoms. She'd go home, she supposed. Go back to work and see if she still had a job. She'd try to get on with her life. Coping was something Rita was old hat at.
"I love you, Al," she said quickly, as though if she didn't say it fast, she wouldn't be able to say it at all. She moved towards the door then, hoping absurdly that he'd change his mind and call her back, or at least say that he loved her too. Even as she hoped, a part of her was resigned to the fact that he wouldn't. Al didn't usually say things he didn't mean, after all.
Under just about any other circumstance, tears would have caused some sort of regret, some pause in his thought process. But his focus was slipping dangerously and he just wanted to sleep. He said nothing, keeping his focus, or at least trying, to hang onto something, even if it was just the blanket he was compulsively pulling threads from. He was dully aware that she was hovering, but he was done. His thoughts were already turning towards a potion and curling up in bed. Yes, that sounded good.
The silence behind her, though she'd been steeling herself for it, hurt more than she'd expected it to. She sucked in a lungful of air and squared her shoulders before she opened the door, leaving it open behind her. She wasn't going to walk out into a house of people who weren't exactly her friends looking broken-hearted. If she had to do the walk of shame, at least she would do it with her head held high.
So she did. She walked out of that bedroom and right down to the front door, heading out sided and out of the wards, not even hesitating before apparating away.
What else could she do? He didn't want her there. He didn't love her anymore. She'd fucked it all up.