InsaneJournal

RP Log: Sturgis & Lydia
Characters: Sturgis Podmore and Lydia Townsley
Setting: Around midnight on 15 Februrary; Sturgis's flat
Summary: Sturgis tells Lydia about his involvement in the Order.
Warning: With Sturgis, there's always bad words.

It had been a terrible night. While finding a link to the werewolf pack in Ruyton-XI-Towns was a positive start, the trail was long since cold, leaving Edgar, Sturgis, and Remus with nothing more than the vague hope that something additional would turn up. Afterward, he'd headed to Edgar's home to tighten up the wards as best he knew how. Ed and Cally wouldn't be the next Caradoc and Charity, at least not on his watch - or so he told himself while working on getting the protections as neat as he knew to do. And now he was home at last, but there wouldn't be any peace there. Lydia was coming, and Sturgis was going to tell her about his place in the Order. Sturgis had already knocked a glass of whiskey out and was working on another, damn Lydia's disapproval. He was going to need it. He heard a crack of apparation outside, followed by a knock on the door. Peeping outside and recognising the blonde head, he nonetheless hesitated. Paranoid. "Hey Lydia, what was the Christmas present that your Mum gave me that we still make fun of?" "Lavender scented aftershave." Normally the questions made Lydia roll her eyes or scoff or just plain tell Sturgis that he was being daft, but tonight she just didn't have the wherewithal to put up the usual snark. One of her good friends had died the day before. There was something about that that just ruined her day. She had attempted to go to work, but hadn't gotten through an hour before giving her excuse to Magrat and taking her work home for the rest of the day. At the castle, she had been either hiding in the library or working on giving Lacey all the cavities in the world with a bakery's worth of baked goods. And then, of course, Sturgis had to go and be ominous. In the end, it just seemed easier to give the answer and slip into his flat once the wards lifted and he opened the door. She didn't want to tiptoe or skirt around the issue or any of that bullshit. But, still, she shrugged off her cloak and scarf before completely coming into Sturgis's home to hear whatever he had to say. "Want anything to drink?" Sturgis asked, because hell, she'd need it. This was not going to be a fun conversation, however necessary it was. He indicated the half-full whiskey bottle on the counter and the glass he'd pulled out for her, even if wine was more her speed. He cleared his throat and leaned against the bar, locking the door behind her and putting up several cloaking wards even so. He wasn't going to take any chances with security. Not tonight. "I'm so sorry about Charity, love." Apparently she did want something to drink, because as soon as he mentioned Charity she beelined for the glass. If there was one thing that Lydia hated more than anything else in the world, it was crying. God only knew that she cried more than enough for one lifetime in front of her ex-husband, but she wasn't ready to cry right now and whenever she thought about Charity and how she was dead a lump rose up in her throat and... it would be best to just drink. And so, she filled the glass with some whiskey and breathed out a sigh before taking a sip and turning to face Sturgis. "So am I," she replied quietly with a little grimace. "It doesn't seem fair." "Nah," he answered, watching her as she kept it together, her hair in place, her lipstick even and neat, "it's not fair." Lydia had always been able to keep going, and he admired that quality about her, but he also knew it was a farce. She hurt, just as much as other people. But she was good at hiding it. Well... he was good at hiding things too. "Lyd, I'm gonna tell you something, and you're not gonna like it," he said tiredly, his shoulders slouching over. His glass was suddenly very interesting; he found that he could not meet her eye. But Sturgis was a firm believer in spitting shit out, so he continued before she could give him so false assurances and ask him to keep going. "Your vampire's in the Order of the Phoenix, a civilian group fighting against You-Know-Who," he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "I know, because I'm in it too. Have been for a long, long time. Ever since the disappearances started, and the Purists idiots started getting power." Sturgis paused, there. And waited for the reaction. Lydia stared at Sturgis blankly for a few seconds, on the very edge of a reaction. She was angry - when wasn't she angry nowadays? - and she was about three seconds from telling him that very loudly, but she had to know something first. Clearing her throat and keeping her voice very even, she asked, "Exactly just how long is 'a long, long time'?" She had to know. She needed to know if this club was just one more thing that led to the end of their marriage. And then she could react. Sturgis had to think about it. It was in the dead of summer, he remembered that much. "1974," he finally said, because Lacey had been five then, and he and Lydia had had a devil of a time trading her off when they needed to go to work. And he'd been in Homicide two years, then. "So... six years." Jesus Christ she was scary when she got quiet. "Are you telling me," Lydia started, her gaze locked right on Sturgis's face as she grew steadily more frustrated, "that you have been sneaking around for six years, trying to get yourself killed, and it didn't once occur to you that maybe you should bring it up to the mother of your child?" He didn't get a chance to answer the question, because instead Lydia set the glass of whiskey down on the counter - perhaps a bit harder than was necessary. "God damn it, Sturgis! What are you people trying to do? Drive me completely insane?" "Sorry," came the rather un-Sturgis-like whimper of an answer. Goddamn, he hated getting yelled at, and he'd known it was coming. Best thing to do was to let her get it all out at once, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be okay with him sometime next week. "If I could've told you, I would've," he finally said, and goddamn he was tired of this. "But we were worried as hell that they'd go after a family member, torture them, imperius them, and my position in the Order's pretty much locked-in 'cause of the DMLE. If I get taken out..." His voice trailed off. Sturgis wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he knew that he had a pretty important position, all the same. "Well, it'd hurt us pretty damn bad. I asked MacDougal not to tell you a few months ago, but it's..." His lips pursed. "It's more dangerous for you not to know at this point." Lydia's jaw was set, but she wasn't sure if it was because she was angry or... something else. She knew that she was angry, but there was something else floating back there. She wanted to just be mad at him and mad at Angus and whoever else was in this damn Order nonsense, but she kept remember that it just meant she had too many brave and noble men in her life. And that could probably be qualified as a good thing. But, no. Lydia was determined to be angry about all of this. "Why?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. "Why are you telling me this now? Why didn't you just tell me when Angus did? I mean, god. Don't you think that I have at least a little bit of a right to know if you're out risking your neck even more than I thought with the DMLE? I mean - just - what if something had happened to you?" "Of course you have a right to know," Sturgis answered evenly, crossing his arms over his chest. He told himself that it made him look tough, and not defensive. "But you said it yourself, Lyd. Things... they aren't fair right now." He regarded his ex-wife, and for once, he let his shoulders slip, his face grow tired. "Lyd, if they got me, I don't want you knowing anything. I want them to come at you with Veritaserum and you having nothing to tell them. I want you to get away. I want Lacey to grow up thinking her Dad met the wrong end of a drughead. That's why I didn't tell you, because if they get me, they'll come after you and Lacey, and I couldn't fucking live with that." He paused. "Well, I'd be dead, so I really wouldn't live with that but... never mind." Oh, for god's sake. How was she supposed to stay mad when he was saying something like that? Besides the fact that she thought it would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn't apart of this thing that could lead to him dying because... he couldn't die. He just couldn't. And, of course, just thinking about that made her face soften and her lip just nearly tremble - so she turned around quickly to pick up her glass. In the long run, Lydia hadn't been touched by the war as badly as some people had been. Sure, people had died that she was acquaintances with or, like with Florence, people she was just starting to get to know. But Charity was different. Charity was a damn big deal to Lydia, even if she hadn't cried about it yet. Besides the fact that her death meant that she had lost a close friend, it also meant that she wasn't quite as immune to all of this nonsense as she had been hoping she might be. There was a good chance that people closer to her could die - like her ex-husband or her boyfriend. Breathing out a sigh, Lydia took a long gulp of the whiskey before saying anything else. And then, she just said, "I'm sorry I yelled." "I'm sorry I lied," Sturgis answered after a silence, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I really wanted to tell you, Lyd. It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I didn't trust the fucking world." A side-ways glance. "Charity and Doc... they were in the Order. Thought you should know," he added, awkward as fuck, and damn, he didn't know how to do comfort. Lydia looked like she wanted to cry, and he was a sucker when it came to that. "C'mere," he said gruffly, and opened up his arms. As weird as things could sometimes be between them, well - he hoped it was never too weird for them not to have a hug now and then. Lydia stared at Sturgis, almost in disbelief as she sorted through what he had just said with what he had said before and put it together and Jesus Christ. She felt like this was just one more reason to yell at him for not telling her because while she had been quick to accuse him (and Angus) for going out and trying to get themselves killed, she hadn't really and truly thought that they would die. But now... Charity. And so, even though she hated crying and she didn't want to cry in front of him again, she crossed the room with a few clicks of her heels, threw her arms around him, and cried. Sturgis muttered something that ended in 'baby'; whatever he said was likely not even real words or sensible in the slightest. But it was the thought that counted, or at least he hoped it counted. So he held her tight, letting her cry, feeling big and stupid and useless but staying right where he was, because she was crying and she needed someone, and it might as well be him. "S'okay," he finally managed gruffly. "We'll make it work. Promise, cross my heart, and all that bunk." It lasted just a couple moments, but by the time she was finished snuffling and sniffling and dribbling and all the other gross things that came with crying, Lydia was embarrassed. It didn't matter if it was Sturgis or if it was some random person on the street - she'd still have been embarrassed. Straightening up a little bit, one of her hands came to her face to pat down her cheeks and get rid of some of those damn tears, and then she could look at him a little sheepishly. "...sorry," she apologized again, sighing. "I've been trying not to do that all day, but I guess I'm just a little bit overwhelmed." "It's not the worst thing my jacket's seen," Sturgis answered, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on the coatrack. He'd remember to launder it later. "You were due." Her friend was murdered, her ex-husband had been hiding vigilante stuff, and PS - vigilante stuff actually got people killed. Yeah, she was due. "Anyway. I can't tell you much about the Order, but if I'm ever... late or dodgy or short, it's... probably having to do with that. Well, later than usual, anyway." "I don't want to know about it," Lydia replied honestly, then scrunched up her nose. Her hands were patting down her hair, unconsciously trying to bring herself back to her previous state of more or less polished. She didn't even try to do it on purpose; it was just habit from years of being raised by her mother. "At least I don't now. I'm sure that will change and you'll have to get all stroppy with me later." "It's okay. I'm good at getting stroppy. And you look fine," he told her, rolling his eyes affectionately at the way she was patting down her hair. She was always going to be a lady, that Lydia. Although that reminded him... "If you ever need to... to talk about it, or vent, or what-have-you," he murmured, automatically lowering his voice despite the fact that they were alone, "Calypso knows. As does Amelia. Neither of them are full-fledged members, but... they know." Lydia wasn't exactly the sort to do well with stewing over a secret, but then, neither was Sturgis, generally speaking. That made Lydia stop for just a moment, her hands dropping to her sides a bit helplessly. Calypso knew? She knew that Sturgis wouldn't tell Cally or Amelia about his involvement before he told her, which led her to assume that Edgar was involved in all of this as well. Wonderful! Great. Fantastic. "Well, this night just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?" Lydia grumbled, picking up her glass of whiskey and taking a long drink from it. It burned and she hated it, but it was a burn that she needed to feel at the moment. "Sorry," Sturgis muttered again, scratching the side of his face as he took in the sight of his ex-wife drinking herself silly. "But if you're gonna know... you should probably know that much." Sighing, he poured himself another drink and took it whole, an old-hat at this by now. He pressed his lips against the back of his hand, thinking. "On the plus side... I'm totally your boyfriend's boss." He smiled a shit-eating grin. "So if you want him to come home at a decent hour for some smoochies, you'd better not be a bitch to me." "You're an idiot," Lydia replied as affectionately as one could muster when she was telling someone that. She was ready to leave before Sturgis went and told her that Lacey was part of this Order as well, but she topped her glass off anyway. "I can be a bitch to you whenever I damn well please without any repercussions. It was in the fine print of the divorce papers." "Was that right under the baked-goods clause?" Sturgis answered, "because that was all I read." He was, truth be told, that he was escaping with some minor yelling and accusations that he was an idiot. It was more-or-less a night like any other. With a sigh, he arched his shoulders and gave them a roll, wincing as they gave an almighty crack. He was getting old. "Anyway. It's pretty much why I told you to go on and sell the house and didn't go into cardiac arrest. When you're safer at the castle, you're safer at the castle. Have you given renting any more thought?" "Yeah, I've pretty much decided that it's what I'm going to end up doing," Lydia nodded, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of whiskey. "It just makes more sense. I'd love to pretend that I'm a romantic and say that nothing is going to go wrong with Angus and myself and I'll have no need for the house ever again, but the romantic in my was crushed years ago when I didn't marry the first bloke I shagged." She gave him a little sideways smile at that - see? She didn't have to play everything on him. "But," she continued with a little sigh. "I don't want to make any concrete decisions until Lacey comes home for the Easter holidays. It's a big change and I want her to feel as though she had some say in it. If she's vehemently against it, I'll reconsider, but we'll have to see." Sturgis snorted. "Like she's not gonna want to move into a ginormous fuck-off castle with a merry troop of vampires," he said, and if he sounded a hair on the jealous side, he... well, was. Although he'd begun to figure out that his little girl's affections weren't going to go away now that Lydia had a supernatural boyfriend with sharp weapons, Sturgis still had a note of... bitterness in his voice. He shrugged, then. "But yeah, you might as well ask her. Maybe she's more sentimental than I think." "I just don't want her to feel like everything's changing and she has no control over any of it," Lydia replied, deciding that she'd done enough yelling for the night to comment on anything off that she was detecting from his voice. It took too much effort. "She's a smart girl, but there's just too much shite going on right now to just add one more thing on top of it, you know?" "Yeah," he answered, thinking of the previous evening. One more thing. "I know." Sturgis had gotten into the DMLE to right wrongs, to save people. And he'd known going in that his family and friends might come into danger, and he'd known it to be doubly so when he joined the Order. But as guilty as he felt, he knew that there was nothing more to do; he couldn't abide by the Ministry's slow-decomposition no mor than he could pretend not to see the murders of good people. His eyes closed. "I lied to keep her safe, you know." Lydia looked over at her ex-husband, the corners of her lips turning down just a bit in a small frown. He looked so tired. How in god's name did he do everything that he did as he tried to save the world one case, and now, one Death Eater at a time and still found time to eat and sleep? Sometimes she was tempted to believe that he just plain didn't... but good Merlin. "I know," she replied quietly, setting her glass down and stepping in toward him to slip an arm around him. "And either way... she'll be just fine with you looking out for her." He stayed silent, accepting the kind words and gesture as well he could. Sturgis knew that she worried about their little girl as much as he did. Lacey being off at Hogwarts and out of sight was killing them both. And so he pulled her into another hug, but at least this one she wasn't crying for, and he was holding her tightly out of more care than terror that she'd decide to yell at him some more. She was right, though - he was exhausted. But there wasn't time to stop and rest. There was never enough time. "Want anything else to drink," he asked, nodding to the little bit of whiskey left. "Or else I'll finish it." "No, thank you," Lydia replied, looking at the bottle for a split second before shaking her head. "I should start thinking about leaving anyway. If I drink anymore, you're going to have to Floo me to the castle and I know you don't want that." A little bit of a smile at that, just to show she was giving him a hard time and attempting to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I'd rather not have to explain to MacDougal how I managed to get you drunk and pliable," agreed Sturgis with a good-natured wince. "Not to mention the fact that Castle MacUgly gives me the colly wobbles." Even if it really didn't, at least not at this juncture. Sturgis just liked pretending as much. "Don't be an arse," Lydia replied without missing a beat, pushing him lightly with her shoulder. She set her glass down then before taking a few steps to find her cloak and slip it on. Once she got back to the castle, she had all sorts of plans that she swore involved just going to sleep but she knew would end up being her laying in bed and thinking about...everything. No need to delay the inevitable. Before she could leave, though, she went back over to her ex-husband and faced him before releasing a long sigh. Her arms slipped up around his shoulders, bringing him down as she pushed herself on her toes to place one kiss on his cheek and then hug him tightly. "You're a good man, Sturgis." Sturgis had about eight smart remarks to that one. And you're a good cook, Lydia was one of them. I know was another. But something in her eyes made him swallow his usual asshole wisecracks and he just muttered a quiet 'thanks', giving her a final hug. "Take care of yourself," he said into her ear, and then pulled away. "Don't splinch or anything. 'Cause I'd laugh at you. And take pictures." "Arse," Lydia replied simply, bumping into him with her shoulder as she walked by him toward the door. She wrapped her scarf around her carefully as she did so, not turning until she reached the door. Her hand paused for just a moment on the door knob as she gave him one more smile and said, "Good night, Sturgis," before slipping out to Apparate. Sturgis watched her go with a sigh, hearing the tell-tale crack a few moments later. Straightening up and running his hand through his hair, he tried to decide where to head next. Dumbledore, he eventually decided. He'd write Dumbledore and tell him that Lydia Townsley was aware of the Order, more specifically, his involvement in it. Now where was his damn quill?