InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "A good sheep is hard to find"

It had been a while since Angus and Lennox had been out hiking together, just the two of them. The summer had been taken up with training, both of them working like elves to get back into flying form, and since the season had started there had been one thing and another to occupy them. Now that they were on midseason break, though, there was more time to get out on the islands they both loved.

Angus, for one, had been missing this time. The brisk wind had already swept his hair and beard into hopeless tangles and chafed his cheeks red, and he looked like a wild man indeed as he sat on the edge of the pink granite cliff they'd just scrambled up, basking in the weak winter sunshine and waiting for Lennox to join him. "See?" he said, grinning over at his twin. "There's hardly any ice to speak of, the sun's out, and we've got the place to ourselves. Now just try to tell me you're not having fun."

Lennox didn't reply immediately, not wanting to make Angus insufferably smug. At least if he waited a little, he'd possibly just get smug. The knowing, ‘I was right’ smug that crept across Angus’ face sometimes when he successfully got Lennox out of his little cottage in Calgary. Scrambling over the last few rocky steps in his battered old leather hiking boots, he placed himself slowly beside Angus, the more careful movements reflecting his position as the more cautious, reserved twin.

After a long moment of looking out over the sea, Lennox slowly blinked and rubbed his eyes before replying, adjusting to the light. “Glad the muggles aren't out,” he replied, slowly crossing his legs. “Feel like I need the space at the minute.”

Angus smiled over at him, resisting the temptation to ruffle Lennox's hair. There was such a thing as pushing his brother too far. "Aye," he answered. "Reckon I know the feeling."

It was a rare admission for him -- he'd always disliked being alone, detested silence, and loved to meet other hikers and climbers on the islands when he was out and about, Muggle or magical. But lately there had been so much in his head that he wasn't equipped to deal with, and he thought he might finally understand a bit of what Lennox had gone through their entire lives. Anyway, he wasn't alone with his twin beside him, and that was enough.

He followed Len's gaze out over the shining water. When it was clear out, like now, you could see the islands stretching out like they filled the whole world; a more beautiful sight he'd rarely seen. Angus sighed in contentment and patted Len's knee companionably. "Hey, Len? Thanks."

Lennox slowly blinked again, taking in Angus’ words before turning his head to look at his brother. “Thanks for what?” he asked, his voice moderated and calm. He had an idea - it could just be thanks for the company, the walk - or it could be for something deeper than that, maybe even thanks for helping him out some way. Space and the outdoors were therapeutic for Lennox, after all. Maybe Angus was finding the same to be true.

"For comin' out with me, I guess," Angus answered. He leaned back on his elbows, still gazing out over the sea. "I missed this, just the two of us out on a ramble. With everything that's going on, I reckon it does me good to remember the world's still big and I'm small. It's steadying, I guess." He craned his neck to look back at Lennox. "Does that make sense?"

“Aye,” Lennox replied, more quickly this time as he recognised an infinitely more familiar feeling. When he was in one of his low phases - ‘bad brain days’ as he sometimes called them - the only thing that could stop his mind sailing far off into the wide blue of beyond was the grounding feeling of boots on earth, breeze on the face and the salty scent of the air. Mull, home, was sometimes the only place where he felt like he could come back to himself. The thought lingered now, his hands trailing a little over the thick, wiry grass atop the cliff. He didn’t even realise he was doing it, nor that he’d only spoken the one word in reply to his brother.

Angus nodded, not finding it strange that Lennox hadn't gone on. That was how his brother was sometimes. He just fished for his wand to renew the warming spells on his clothes, and then relaxed, watching the sun on the sea for a while in silence.

He hummed a few bars after a while. It was hard not to, even if Len wanted quiet, with his head clear and his heart full like it hadn't been for a long time.

As soon as he recognised the tune, Lennox couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a dry smile on his face, the softest of scoffing noises escaping his lips. Trust Angus to make sure there was at least some noise in their quiet of the great outdoors.

“Sometimes…” he began, unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking. The quieter twin often had a lot going on in his mind, but not necessarily with the words in which to do it. “Sometimes I need to remind myself of what’s real. What actually exists, and that I’m in this real place rather than the one my head makes up sometimes,” he murmured, hoping Angus could get what he was driving at. Lennox wasn’t even sure that he felt his own words fitted his feelings.

Angus nodded again, his brow drawn up in thought. "Yeah," he said after thinking that over for the space of a minute. "Reckon that makes sense. Some of my Healers talk about that stuff, since… anyway." He sighed and sat up, clapping Lennox on the shoulder. "Well, if you ever need a pinch to remind you what's real, you know I'm here for you." He winked over at him and made a pincer shape with his fingers. "Just say the word."

Lennox frowned a little at the mention of the Healers. He’d never really pried into exactly what Angus had gone through in his treatments, but given the similarity of their thoughts and feelings about the mind and reality sometimes, it had seemed better for him not to. To ask anyone who knew them both about whether Lennox needed healing was pointless, he thought. They’d say it was how he’d always been, but in truth, had it? It was how most people he knew remembered best, given how young they’d been when they’d lost their father. But Angus had lost him too, and their responses were not the same. And although they were both, to a point, unwell, that was hardly the same either.

He’d been about to lean back on the grass, rest his head on the small backpack he’d brought with him, when Angus decided to practically claw at him. “Oh, fuck off,” he replied in exasperation, leaning back out of the way and swatting at his brother’s hand.

Angus laughed and leaned in to wrap one arm around Lennox in a half hug. "Ach, you say that, but you'd miss me sorely if I ever did." He gave in to the temptation to ruffle his twin's hair, just a little, and then he backed off and dusted off his hands. "What do you reckon? Stay here a bit or keep hiking up? We can make Cnoc Mor yet before sunset."

Lennox definitely wasn’t going to touch that comment, so he rolled his eyes and ignored it, sighing softly as he actually did lie down, looking up at the sky. There was something necessary about the peace of the gesture, and frankly, he could just stay in this spot until it was time to go back home again.

“I guess we could do that,” he replied, his blue eyes looking up wistfully at the passing clouds, drifting on.

"But ye dinna want to move," Angus guessed. It wasn't hard to read his twin's body language as he planted himself in this spot. He grinned down at Lennox. "That's all right, we'll stay." He reached over to pluck a stalk of dry grass, twiddling it between his thumb and fingers while he watched a seabird soar overhead. "Are ye warm enough, Len?"

“Not really,” Lennox sighed, a little more in contentment as he looked up at the sky, a more heavy hue now that they were drifting through the afternoon. They had plenty of time, after all, and if all else failed they could apparate back down if too long an afternoon was spent up here, enjoying the openness of their home island.

“I’m grand on that front,” he replied, shuffling a little to get comfortable. He didn’t generally feel the cold much, and he knew of several warming charms that had got him through the worst of training sessions. Instead, he turned his head to look at his brother. “You?”

The shortness of his sentences aside, he knew that Angus would understand it was more than an enquiry into his current wellbeing.

"Aye, I'm all right," Angus answered, shifting himself into a more comfortable position now that they were staying. He'd felt the cold more keenly since Azkaban -- lingering effects from Dementor exposure or just getting older, he wasn't sure, but warming charms and wool underwear were good enough to keep away the chill rising from the ground.

He patted Lennox's shoulder. "I'm good," he repeated, though this time he wasn't just talking about his physical comfort. "Dinna fash. This is good, just like this."

Lennox liked the shoulder pat, brief a gesture as it was. Close as they were, it was always the sort of thing that had been common between the brothers, pre-Azkaban. While he didn’t know what it had been like in there - probably never would, in truth - it was at least a comfort to know that some things didn’t change. And he could, at least, accept that Angus was more open about his feelings than Lennox ever was.

“So… why up here?” he asked casually, watching the clouds drift by, chased by a group of flying swallows beginning to swoop.

Angus leaned back on his elbows, craning his neck to follow the flock of birds. "One of my favourite places in the world, with my favourite person in the world," he answered. Which wasn't exactly an answer, but he had to consider what to say for a moment.

He made himself comfortable, half-reclining next to Lennox, and after a moment he shrugged. "I used to come out hiking on my own when I was having a rough time. After Dad died -- that summer, when I used to storm off? I was wandering out along the shore where I could be by myself, mostly. Throwin' rocks off cliffs, yellin' into the wind." He flicked a pebble over the edge in emphasis. "And then later, when we'd lose a match, or I'd got in a fight, or when Elsa and I were on the outs. The rocks and the sea were always here for me, makin' me feel like myself again. Reckon I wanted to remind myself they still are, even after all this time."

Lennox tilted his head in the other direction for a moment, contemplating his brother’s words before responding. He understood, sort of, what Angus meant - where his brother had channelled his feelings into the great outdoors, letting the environment carry off the negativity before it filled him up again, he had channelled his own pain inside, burying it to a place where he could not (or would not) access it. It was not the same feeling, not at all, but Lennox understood the need to get rid of it, whether that be throwing it out or hiding it away. It was one more example of how the brothers were the same, yet different.

“Ye can’t really do that out on the mainland, not so much,” Lennox agreed, nodding his head a little, thinking about how the isolation of the small island really made them think.

Angus hummed in response, closing his eyes. He tried to be still for Len sometimes -- before matches, after matches, whenever he thought his brother particularly needed him to just be there quietly -- though it had always been hard for him not to be in motion or making noise. Still, he tried, and he was trying now. "Yet another reason to stay out here," he answered. And then, because the tune was still in his mind, he sang quietly, "Joy of my heart, Eilean Muileach..."

"I never thought about leaving," he added after a moment of consideration. "Not for good, anyway. I was thinking me and Elsa would settle here, maybe get married someday, have a few bairns." He hadn't opened his eyes, keeping the sorrow of his breakup contained inside. "When she owled me last spring to say she wasna comin' home from Canada, it never even occurred to me I might follow her out there. Didn't even seem like something I could do. You know?" Angus cracked an eye open to peer over at Lennox. "Did you ever think about leaving, Len?"

“No,” Lennox replied immediately. “Of course not.” And he meant it… his conviction was strong, and his reply instinctive. He couldn't really explain the passion behind his reasoning, because it wasn't as though he still lived in the family home. Proximity, though, he needed. Mull was where his roots were, his links with his father, and he could never willingly give that up.

“Living somewhere else in the country is one thing,” he began, “but I need to be here. Close by, anyway. I could never leave.”

Angus nodded, unsurprised. He and Lennox were cut from the same cloth in at least one regard, and he couldn't imagine Lennox moving away any more than he could imagine himself. "Yeah, I didn't reckon you would." He sighed, easing himself down to lie on the ground next to his brother. The cold from the cliff below fought against the warming charm he'd so recently renewed on his clothing, and he shifted restlessly to warm himself again.

"After Quidditch I might travel," he said after another minute of peaceful silence, once he'd settled in. "Go see America, Egypt, China, spend more time with Ma's family. Find out what all the fuss is about over Brazil." He turned his head to smile at Lennox. "Want to come with me?"

“What, after Quidditch? I plan on playing for at least the next fifty years,” Lennox quipped, examining his fingernails, looking casual but secretly thinking that he really didn’t much like the thought of life after Quidditch. Like he’d told Lex the time they sat and got drunk and thought about their problems, it was pretty much all he had. He’d be lost without it - Lennox Duncan Campbell, the only Seeker unbeaten by Christmas.

“I did spend a wee bit of time in New Zealand, you know.” A pause. “Last year.” He didn’t mention the circumstances, where he’d helped his mother out of the country and was forced to return, lest it look like the family was trying to escape en masse. Still, it was part of their heritage as much as Scotland was, and they couldn’t exactly ignore links with an entire country just because of the war. After all, they were still here, weren’t they?

“It’d be nice to go back, though. Spend a bit longer out there.”

"Yeah," Angus agreed absently. "Sounds nice. Maybe after the season we can go down there for a bit." He readjusted again, pillowing his head on one arm, and watched Lennox for a minute. There were a lot of things he hadn't asked about the time he was gone, and a lot of things he hadn't said, or hadn't said in the right way. And he still wasn't saying them now.

He did reach out to squeeze Len's arm. "I reckon if anybody'll be catchin' Snitches in his eighties, it'd be you. On that Godric-damned Comet, too." He grinned over at him. "You're great, Len. You know I'm proud of you, yeah?"

Lennox knew Angus was watching him, of course, but he didn’t react. Not until that slight on his Comet 360, at any rate.

“Hey! Why does everybody insist on bashing it? I make the catches on it, don’t I?” he sighed, in genuine exasperation at the remarks against his beloved broom.

Angus laughed, sprawling out on his back again. "You surely do. I'll never say another word against it." He held up his hand to the sky, framing the dropping sun with his fingers to estimate how much time they had before it would go down. "When that broom finally goes to its well-deserved rest, I reckon we'll all mourn along with you."

“We don’t talk about that,” said Lennox, thinking that if he was of the religious persuasion he’d have been crossing himself about now. There wasn’t even any wood around to touch. “I’m very picky about my brooms, you know that. I dread the thought of breaking in another.”

It was why, despite the many offers from rival broom makers (and even Comet themselves), Lennox insisted on keeping the one he’d picked out and paid for himself, the Seeker’s superstition not being a fan of change. And as much as he liked Jason and the work he and Jamie were doing in the field, he’d still rather keep his trusty 360 where he could.

He paused for a moment, and grinned as he thought of something. With his habitual speed, Lennox leaned over and rapped the top of Angus’ head with his knuckles. “Knock on wood,” he grinned, before rolling away and quickly rising to stand, still with the broad expression of amusement on his face.

"Oi!" Angus bellowed, aiming a swipe at his brother that just missed. He pushed himself to his feet, not as quick as his twin but not bad for a man of his size, and got his arm around Lennox in a headlock, swiping off his cap to ruffle his hair enthusiastically. "What did I ever do in life to deserve a wee bother for a wee brother?" he asked the sky dramatically.

Lennox, by way of response, took the cap and used it to biff Angus in the face to win his freedom, replacing it upon his head and looking utterly unflappable (he counted the burn of his own as a total win).

“You’re lucky to have me, and don’t forget it,” Lennox quipped cheekily, though only half meaning it due to his own sense of inadequacy. Pulling out his wand from his inside pocket, he summoned his backpack, looking up at the slightly darkening sky in a less expert way than Angus had done.

“Time to head back soon, do you think?” he asked, slipping the bag back on his shoulders.

Angus laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, yeah," he answered, ducking his head. He wasn't about to deny that he was lucky in the brother he'd got. "I know."

He stamped his feet to warm up a bit, feeling the chill of the wind now that they'd been stationary. "We can head out." He took one last long look over the sea, grey tinged with pink and orange by the sun as it slipped downward, and sighed. "Thanks again for comin' up with me, Len. Comin' back to Ma's with me for dinner?"

“Aye, alright. Let me check in on Toby first, get him fed and everything,” he replied, following his brother on the short pathway back down the cliffs.