dorcas meadowes is with john dawlish (warrioress) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-02-21 02:47:00 |
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Though he'd been expecting it, the knock on his door still caught Michael off guard. It was, he knew, because he was too keyed up, too on edge, to the point where anything sudden struck a nerve. He knew that the Irish Wolfhound he shared his cottage with could feel it too -- Birdie had been quiet all morning, all week really, and lingered by her master's side dutifully, as if her mere presence could soothe whatever was wrong with him. And it did, somewhat. Merlin knew Michael wasn't in the mood to be very social with his fellow human beings, even though visiting Sarah and Douglas had been required. He hated seeing grief (more grief) on his sister's face as much as he hated lying to her, but it was too late to regret his decision to join the Order now. Sitting back and wishing for the best wouldn't remove the pain from her eyes anyway. He put down the book he'd been reading and lumbered to his feet, dog trailing his uneven steps as he reached the door. Wand in hand, he paused. "Who is it?" He barked through the heavily warded wood. He knew it was Dorcas, but one could never be too sure. "Name and proof." "It's Dorcas. The six-year-old dreaming to be a mermaid princess in a castle." The answer hardly made her cringe anymore, especially not in the thickest of the shit storm this war was bring on. As she stuffed her hands inside her jacket waiting for him, numerous thoughts just flew through her mind. The last thing she really had been expecting was to find that Michael had joined the Order after losing half the family. That was exact reason why she was uncomfortable with him being in it. Had they not lost enough people? And plus, there was just some stuff that she needed to come clean with. Like her status as a vigilante who had been outed. She crossed her arms, pulling at the sides of her jacket, not particularly feeling cold, but just out of sheer habit. After thirty or so seconds (during which he had made short work of the wards protecting his home -- he may have gone overboard) the door was pulled open and held for Dorcas to come through. Her host looked tired -- though he always did -- and wore plain, muted colours. And while his appearance certainly wasn't, the cottage itself was warm. "Come on in," he directed more than offered, though his voice was low and lacked any sort of edge. Knowing that Dorcas was in the Order, had been in it for God knew how long, rather shifted the dynamic between them. Michael was half wary, half curious. "Tea?" Dorcas didn't wait a second longer to move past him and into the house. It was indeed warmer that if she was relaxed enough, she would be inclined to take off her coat. But everything that she wanted to say and the reactions she anticipated had her on edge. "No, I.. well, I guess. Yes, tea would be good." She gave him a small smile at the same time, hoping that somehow, it would ease the tension she could already feel in the air. This was likely going to be a long talk. The smile wasn't echoed on his features. Rather it was observed for a moment or two, silently, before Michael dragged his gaze away and gestured to the rather dismal looking couch and chair in front of the nearby fireplace. Birdie, the dog, who had lately taken to sitting by the armrest of the sofa, moved to sprawl by the hearth, all while watching Dorcas curiously. "Have a seat," he offered before moving past her towards the kitchen. It was from there that he spoke next, even as he readied the kettle. "You alright?" Dorcas turned to where he indicated, deciding to ignore the lack of smile. Hell, she couldn't remember if she'd ever seen one on him, but you couldn't really blame the guy. Not at this point, not when you counted off how much he had lost already. When he walked away, she allowed herself a momentary shake of her head and a deep breathe following her words, "Hard to say." She then glanced over her shoulder to give the room a once-over. It was fairly cozy, if anything. Maybe a bit of tidying up, but Dorcas herself tended to be a neat freak. Her room had everything in it's place. "There's just a lot going on, sometimes you don't have time to stop and think about how you're really feeling," she continued as she moved her gaze around the room. "I'll bet," Michael replied, flatly, as he re-entered the living room proper. The cottage was small, meaning no one was all that distant from anyone else at any given time. Navigating the room's general clutter with well-practised, if ungainly movements, he avoided the boxes and books piled on the ground in order to cross to a chair by the window. He settled into it heavily, and trained his gaze on Dorcas. Where to begin? At the beginning, he supposed. "Did John know?" Dorcas's mouth opened slightly in surprise as she took in his question. That was unexpected and threw her off for a moment. Here she thought she was going to start out asking questions or at least launching into explanations herself. "No," she admitted quietly, after recovering and turning her gaze to her hands in her lap. "I never had the chance to tell him." A wave of relief washed over him. "Thank Christ..." He muttered, relaxing a fraction in his chair as he finally pulled his eyes off of her. Michael's attention went to Birdie instead, contemplating the dog quietly before he continued. The next question came in a handful of moments. His focus swung back up to Dorcas and fixed there. "So what do you do? In this thing. Given that you're still in training at the Ministry." Dorcas herself felt a wave of... well, something pass over her when she heard his words. How had that been a good thing? She couldn't tell the man she loved about that secret job she did outside of the DMLE. Though on a second thought, their relationship might not have lasted in such bliss for that last month. She reached up to scratch the back of her neck in thought, when his next question brought her attention back. "Same thing as most of us do. Collect information, patrol at gatherings and full moons, watch over families, watch over anything they might deem worth taking away from us, and just... getting to the bad guys before they hurt more. Easier for me to be seen on patrols since I'm part of the department." It seemed strange, then, learning all this information that his brother never had a chance to hear. It was almost a fraction too personal, as if he were eavesdropping on his own conversation, and more than that it was somewhat uncomfortable to learn about her so willfully subverting the system John himself upheld -- until the moment he died for it. Michael rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. "How long have you been a part of it? ... you mind me asking any of this?" Dorcas shook her head, answering the latter half of his question first. "Honestly, I would have eventually needed to tell you these things anyway, yeah?" She shrugged a slight smile touching her lips again. And then it faded, when she thought back to the date of when she joined. She'd only just been out of Hogwarts then. But she'd been ambitious nonetheless, determined and holding a fighter's spirit which must have been what Dumbledore saw. "Three years ago. Or close to, rather." She swallowed before adding. "Some months after my mother died." Michael's face registered some mild degree of shock, though it faded under pressure from his furrowed brow. Three years ago. Hell, that would make her barely more than a schoolgirl when she joined up. And while he had resolved upon joining to respect everyone else's reasons for doing so -- even if he disapproved -- he couldn't help feeling a heavy sadness at the news. No one that young should have to deal with this sort of risk. "Sorry about your mother," he offered belatedly, though his tone spoke more of formality than any genuine concern. Michael lifted his gaze to Dorcas' briefly before dropping it again. Dorcas herself believed that she had forfeited any risk of that kind the day she joined the Auror programme. Just having that title attached to your name meant you were fighting Dark magic, which included Death Eaters and you were automatically the enemy. Of course, being a vigilante put it as an even greater risk, yes, but it was easier to think about it when saw it in the former view. "Thanks," she mumbled, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, in a nervous habit. "Michael," she started, deciding to just get into her own question. "Why did you join?" Perhaps it was because he had been expecting the question (or perhaps because he'd been dreading it), Michael's response was immediate. Wanting to confide in Dorcas was only natural -- she was, after all, his last link to his brother that wasn't based in blood -- and that may have been why he guarded against it. She could die any day. So could he. What was the use in investing thoughts and feelings in someone else? He shook his head, met her eye, and replied flatly with, "That's none of your business." Dorcas blinked at him in surprise, taking the flat-out tone and the immediate response in offense. "I just want to know. I... I don't mean anything by..." That was a lie. Because really, she would have liked for him to rethink his decision in this and go back to just being with his remaining family members, keeping them together. Michael drew a deep breath, exhaling as he pushed himself to his feet while Dorcas was still speaking. The kettle would doubtlessly be ready soon, and he'd have to get up then anyway. "Nothing to be gained by it. I've joined. You've joined. We both have our reasons," he informed, still in that matter-of-fact tone of voice, though his eyes were no longer fixed on her. Instead he limped his way to the kitchen, still half visible from where Dorcas sat, and set about seeing to the tea he'd promised. It just rubbed her the wrong way. It may not have been meant as such, but Dorcas suddenly got the impression of a parent or any adult telling a child to never mind the situation. Accept it and move on. She frown when he started walking away, turning her gaze at a blank spot on the far left wall. "I was really hoping you wouldn't," she muttered, quietly. Though in a house of dead silence, it wasn't spoken as quietly as she thought. "Might as well have wished upon a star," he answered briskly, apparently having heard her just enough to reply in short order. There was the brief rattle of mugs from the kitchen as he sorted out a cup for them both, even though, with every passing instant, Michael felt himself in less and less of a mood for tea. He carried both mugs back into the adjacent living room swiftly enough however (or as swiftly as his limited mobility would allow), and offered one to Dorcas. "I didn't want it to come to this either," he spoke quietly, grudgingly meeting her halfway. "But it has. So we move on." She glanced up at him before reaching out for her cup. She spoke her mind that one time, and the urge to do so only grew from there on. "You didn't have to," she started, looking back up at him. "You've lost so much already. You could... I don't know, take them somewhere else? I just don't want to see the rest of you get hurt." "Then why don't you quit?" The words came fast on the heels of Dorcas's, quickly enough to qualify as a snap even though he'd spoken them in more or less a dull monotone. Michael ducked his head to take a sip of tea before setting his cup down on the pile of boxes by his chair, which he lowered himself into carefully. Her questions were only vexing because they carried an air of truth to them, and he knew it. It was what made him grow so immediately defensive. "I know what I've lost, Dorcas," he began, patient, as he fixed his gaze on the girl across from her again. "Don't speak to me like I'm unaware of it." Dorcas instantly lost the need for tea from his remark, and she placed the tea before looking back at him. She wasn't the type to back down. John knew this very well. He'd push her away, and she kept pushing back. Eventually, he realized that he couldn't through a day's training with her being a little defiant, nor could he live without having her in his arms at the end of the day. While this was an entirely different situation, Michael would soon learn of her adamant behavior as well. "No," she said curtly to his question. "Three years in this is not going to make me leave. But after watching three of our people leave us..." And there could have been a I don't want to lose you too after that, but she kept it in. As much as she cared deeply for the family as if they were her own, she had a feeling he wouldn't take it comfortably. She knew well enough, he wasn't the fuzzy-feeling type of guy to just take something like that with a smile and a bear hug. "If Sarah knew, I doubt she'd be pleased." It was a cutting remark, and she knew it was going to hit a sore spot, but at the same time, it was just something Dorcas needed to get off her chest. Having much to say but not saying it put a lot of pressure, one that she didn't need while she was still alive. ... that gave him room for pause -- though not because he was willing to entertain regrets. Michael's body language stiffened, shutting down, as he leaned forward to focus all the more intently on Dorcas. Whether she'd meant it as one or not, her words were interpreted as a threat -- and not one that he considered lightly. "Are you going to tell her?" He asked, voice thin. He wanted to continue, wanted to add that the three lost hadn't just been people to him, they had been friends of his since he was a boy, but that was all at once far too personal and far too dramatic to add. Dorcas's nose scrunched up in disbelief. "What? No!" Was he mental? Plus telling them this would mean admitting that she was part of it too. The less people that knew about her position, at the very least, the better. "That's not a threat, it's just a statement." That he couldn't deny was false. Her admittal allowed him to relax -- a little. It wouldn't do to let down his guard completely, Michael reckoned, and so he took the denial with a grain of salt, and let himself shed a little bit of the tension he held in his shoulders and neck. "... then there's no reason for her to know," he finished. And while he wanted to stop speaking at that, Michael found himself opening his mouth again to continue. His forehead knit. "Who is pleased to know any of this? No one wants to know this. It's shit enough having to involve myself, I'm not going to involve my sister too." Dorcas cast her eyes downward, picking up her cup again. He was right about that much. She couldn't even see John taking this well himself. But she couldn't really find out now, and that much of a thought was enough to unspilled tears in her eyes. "Then why did you get involved?" she pressed on, still looking down, trying to keep herself composed and hiding it from him. "Because someone has to," Michael -- now -- snapped, bristling at the question despite the fact that the girl asking it didn't seem able, or willing to meet his eyes while she did so. It was only the memory of John that curbed his tongue, stopping him from railing further on the subject and causing him to give a short, stiff sigh instead. Michael waited one heartbeat, then two, then looked at Dorcas again once his temper had died down a little. "I wouldn't volunteer for this if I didn't have a good set of reasons," he began evenly, his voice low. "You don't have to understand them or approve, but don't think, for one second, that I am taking this lightly. I know what this could do to what family I've got left, but I know what this could do for them too, and that's why I've joined. There's no guaranteeing my safety -- or theirs -- whether I kept out of it or not." Dorcas finally looked up at him when he snapped, lips pressed together to keep herself from screaming in frustration. At least it didn't come out in a scream, but the frustration came out nonetheless. "Damnit, Michael... that's just..." She pushed herself up from where she sat and walked over in the direction of kitchen, pausing to keep herself together but it just wasn't working. When she spun around, she stared at him hard, attempting to string together words she wasn't even sure would get out what she wanted to say to him. "What might have, would have been leaving, staying somewhere safe, getting a Secret-Keeper. I have been so close to recommending that to Sarah before you-- Michael, after John, you and your family just opened up. You didn't push me away, you didn't just let things drift off because the connection between us had just been killed. And I have been so, so incredibly grateful for that. "And then Benjy... fuck. I didn't meet him for the first time at the funeral, however I managed to make it look like I did. I knew him for a longer time than that, and no, he wasn't just another Order member, he was someone I looked up to, someone I respected and I wanted to be just like. I care so much for you and Sarah and Douglas and the kids, it would just kill me if something happened to you." Somewhere in here speech, the tears that she'd been trying to hold back spilled over, but she herself hadn't even noticed. Otherwise she would have stopped. The last thing she wanted to do was cry over a man that she loved but so did the other person in the room. "No, I probably would never understand why, but that's not going to change that I wish you hadn't. I'm tired of losing people, losing things, anything that means something to me. And if John was still here, I probably wouldn't want him to join either. Not that I would ever be able to tell how he'd react now, but if... just... damnit, I miss him!" Dorcas heaved a huge sigh, and clasped a hand over her eyes, stopping her rant right there, and only then did she realize there were tears. "Oh, God, I'm sorry." For several long moments Michael just watched her -- or rather, made himself watch her. If there was a penance to be paid for his joining, and he was increasingly convinced there was, then this was it. He wouldn't allow himself to shy away from the pain he was causing others, even if he thought what he was doing was for the best. It was important, for once, to not only witness the hurt he inflicted but take responsibility for it too. There was a brief creak of leather and metal from his brace as Michael once more pushed to his feet. With a pair of ungainly steps, he moved towards Dorcas, then paused. "I do too," he began, before adding in response to her final words: "... and I am too." She hadn't an idea of how he was going to react, but she was completely embarrassed by the presence of her tears, that as soon as she realized she'd been crying, she started to wipe them away and was on the verge of suggesting that she leave. His words, however, only brought more out and left those words lost somewhere inside her. "First love. I can't forget," she said, looking up at him through watery eyes. "Eventually, I can start laughing again, enjoying myself with friends, possibly move on to someone new but I just... I could never forget. Not him. Or Mum." Everything she had said, possibly something she'd been keeping bottled up for the longest time (after all, how many people in her life within the Order to whom she could open up could really understand that loss) exhausted her that she had no more energy to even hold herself together. Which was what he responded too, sympathetically, as Michael moved forward to very slowly pull her -- allow her, really -- into his arms. It was clear from the stiffness of his body that this was not a motion particularly natural to him, but all the same there was no hesitancy to the embrace. Just a steady sort of quiet. It was a silence that lingered for several long moments. This close he was spared the sight of her face (and her tears), but the warmth of her against him was just as gutwrenching. "If you can't forget," he offered finally, voice naturally dimming to something soft, "... then don't." Dorcas never felt more appreciative of a hug. And of a listening ear to that rant as well. As much as she adored her castle inmates, she could never unleash like this to them. Plus, there was Peadar. Where Peadar was, she was happy, and she never wanted to do anything to get of rid of that feeling between them, especially not bring up John. Maybe someday, she'd be able to tell Michael about him. Now was just not the right time. After a few seconds, when she started to calm down, Dorcas lifted her head from the spot on his shirt which was damp from her tears. There was at least one more thing she had to let him know. "Michael. They know about me. It was... that fire, at Brookstanton. Myself and the Prewett brothers. It's why I had to leave my flat in a hurry and I'm now at the MacDougal castle. It's somewhat, well, the main reasons why I just wanted you and your family to hide." This new information took a moment to process. Michael's brow furrowed under the weight of it, and he even went so far as to pull back a little so that he might look down at her face, but his arms remained around her, and didn't seem in a hurry to abandon their hold. "Brookstanton..." he repeated, not entirely knowing what she was talking about, but deciding that, in light of the second thing she said, it was best to let it go for now. Something had happened, and that was enough. Michael summoned a deep breath. "... alright. ... Alright -- do they know about you and John? Do you think that they'd come after any of us?" It was a definite no on the first question. They kept their relationship well under wraps. A few Order members knew, but likely from a notable change in her behavior during those days and the fact that they'd seen her at the funeral (with a particular disguise that only had her recognized by the Order and DMLE... and his family, of course). "If they come after any of you again, it would definitely not be because of John. It was kept completely quiet mostly for the sake of protocol at work." Plus, Benjy had been involved in finding a horcrux and John was an Auror that would lay his life down for the people. They hadn't been specifically targetted. While that thought should have brought some comfort to her, it was hard not to worry about the safety of people she loved. She moved one hand away and brushed at her cheek. "Sorry. I normally don't... I've had a lot to say lately, just never had the chance to get it out." That was some small bit of relief, at least. Despite this Michael's expression remained grim, though when Dorcas lifted away from him his arms naturally relaxed, ready to fall away from her should she decide she wanted him to let go. He kept his head tilted and his gaze trained on her. "You don't need to be sorry," he informed, quite honestly. "We've all got to get it out sooner or later." Though personally, he was hoping for later when it came to his own grief. Dorcas could only nod but still felt a slight embarrassment for her outburst, now that she'd calmed down. She might have had an inclination to mention that he meant a lot to her, as did Sarah and Douglas, but it seemed like the more she'd talk about, the less comfortable this would become. So she settled with a simple, "Thank you, Michael." She glanced back at her cup sitting at her previous spot and gave a small smile. "I believe our tea's getting cold." Now his arms dropped away from her, though not without pressing one hand against her upper arm in a final, reassuring squeeze. Michael knew he wasn't the best source of comfort -- for anyone -- but at the same time, in that moment, he hoped that he had managed to impart even a little to Dorcas. Merlin knew, out of anyone, she needed it. "Good," he replied, his mouth pulling in a faint, sad smile. He took another breath. "Because I'm more in the mood for a beer anyway." |