Remus couldn't say he was thrilled about splitting up, either, if for the reason that he knew as soon as they were alone he was going to have to face Sirius and the past this younger version had no knowledge of at all. Before he could even articulate a plan to start looking for answers -- and forestall this conversation -- Sirius was turning to him with questions for which Remus wasn't certain he had adequate answers.
"There's no 'we' any more, Sirius." The words came softly for all there was a tightness in his voice, an attempt to control the flood of things he'd wanted to say to a different version of the young man in front of him for eighteen months. A year and a half had passed since Remus lost everyone who mattered...because of Sirius, by all accounts. "There hasn't been a 'we' since the war ended. And before that..." he shrugged. "We started drifting apart not long after the time you remember, the war pulled us all in different directions. There were fewer times we could all safely meet. Things got dangerous. More dangerous. Someone in the Order turned traitor. People died. Or worse. McKinnon and her whole family were killed. The Longbottoms were tortured into madness. James and Lily were killed. Peter was killed. You-..."
Was there a good way to say this?
"You're in Azkaban," Remus blurted finally, giving up on trying to talk around it. "When it all was over and the funerals were done, I left. Haven't been back to England in more than a year."