Who: Siriuscolour and Remusknap What: Remus is back and his memories back, naturally, he needs to let Sirius know of these things Where: The Martin House When: Thanksgiving Warnings: Emotions?
Remus, rather uncharacteristically, was walking with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets, though at a rapid pace. The interlude with Zeta upon his return had given him time to wrap his mind around his memories, placing them in order of when they had happened for him in terms of his life, and when they had occurred in terms of the Compound. It was complex to consider that his more recent memories were of himself at a younger age while his older memories were of a more recent time for him, now, but he seemed to believe he had it all settled within his own head. He had been there before from the same year as he was now, only to be sent away and brought back from a younger age, and then to be sent away and brought back from this present age again.
He didn't understand Alpha's reasoning for sending him away in the first place but he understood why he had been sent back and returned a second time. Zeta had made it clear. She did not share Alpha's view and wanted some sense of consistent research. He did not know what sort of strings Zeta pulled, as she had stated, but he was grateful.
He had never wanted to leave. He had specified this. He had made a life in the compound, as a thirty eight year old man, and he didn't want that life tampered with. Though he couldn't do a thing about it being thrown off track, at least it was once again back in allignment, and he had many matters to take care of.
Lifting his head, he walked passed the Lee house with little care of stepping inside. It was a holiday and the nagging voice of his alias seemed to wish to be with his family. Remus, on that, could agree. But they had a different definition of what family was. He only stopped for a moment to grab a handful of flowers from his 'mothers' garden, before making his way down the sidewalk, heading in a very specific direction.
He made his way up the walkway, his stomach turning, completely nerve wrecked. He didn't know what he was going to say but it didn't matter. He needed to see him. He needed to fix this. His younger self didn't know the depth they had and that was awful to think back on. He was certain he had caused pain, without intending to, and he needed to make up for it. He needed to let him know he was there and he wasn't leaving again, if he had any say at all. A firm knock was pressed against the door and he lifted his head, ready to meet his gaze, clutching the stems of the flowers tighter then he needed in his hand.