Who: Gideon, writing a letter to Fabian Where: St Mungos When: March 25, 1979 Rating: PG-13
Fabian -
I've been told it's a good idea to talk to you, to say the things in this that I never got to say in person. As if there was anything I never said to you. however, there are things that I can't tell anyone I know, or don't want to share with anyone but you. She might think that taking my wand away won't prevent me from burning this, but she is wrong. I will find a way to keep this between the two of us.
Did you notice the date? Of course you did. You always woke me on these days with some stupid present that I would pretend to hate and not want. I've had twenty of them now – not that I remember the first few, but I can name the other fifteen to you, I'm sure you haven't forgotten.
What am I supposed to do… I can't See the future. It's bad enough I'll have to face it without my brother, I can't imagine
Today someone mentioned the word legacy and it's left me thinking. So much is tied to us, as purebloods, to leave a physical legacy behind. Is it wrong of me to be tired of such ramblings? My legacy is my anger.
Isn't it enough that we can see our lives echoed in the personalities of our sister's children? Molly and Arthur are not well right now. I can see it in the lines of her face when she comes here. Percy whispers it to me while she is busy or out of the room and I feel for him. It's my fault, Fabian, that they are not getting along. I thought they would work it out now that I'm healing.
Yes, I am taking healing seriously. Therapy hurts, but I can use my hand, albeit my handwriting is messy, but it's legible. The leg is another matter. I'm beginning to walk but I will need a cane the rest of my life. Can you see that? You always said I never had a way with the birds. It's only going to be worse now.
I will be the last of our line, brother mine. No more Prewetts will be born following me. Wasn't that your responsibility? I refuse to take it away from you. Yes, I know you cannot fulfill it. I don't care. Maybe there was one thing left unsaid, one thing we both knew and never spoke about. I cannot walk your path, Fabian. I cannot be you. Nor will I try.
She was wrong, you know, telling me to write a letter to you. Because you are not the person I'm angry with. If she thinks I need to work through my anger, than this letter should have been written to a handful of other people I'd like to blame.