InsaneJournal

While the MacFusty gathering the evening before had been pleasant, there had been an element of tension that Owen hadn’t been able to shake all night. He’d already made plans to get up early to fix the family a spot of breakfast to tide them over until brunch with his parents, but, with the wind howling and his own tempestuous thoughts, sleep had proven frustratingly elusive. It was well before dawn when he’d finally had enough and slipped from the bed. Getting dressed in mostly darkness, he puttered around the kitchen for a bit, starting a pot of oats over the fire, and then sat staring at it until the sky began to grey outside the window.

Snow made little tink-tink-tink wounds against the window, sometimes plastering it before being blown away. The clouds were as dark and brooding as his own thoughts had become. He knew he’d told Ellie a few days ago that he would bring the kids by for a visit, but there was no way that could happen now. All the same, he couldn’t shake the concern that had been rooted in his thoughts since reading both Ellie and Florrie’s excuses about coming to the get together.

He took one more look outside, and then steeled himself.

Ellie obviously hadn’t wanted to talk through journal, but maybe… He pulled on his heavy winter cloak, cast a warming charm on himself, and stepped outside to Apparate to Ellie’s place at An Nead. The weather there wasn’t any better, and the wind nearly blew him into the side of the house when he got there. He tried the house first, of course, but there was no answer. It was possible that she wasn’t home, but she had said she would be, which left another possibility.

In the gale force winds that were whipping snow around him in blinding sheets, he made his way to the overlook that usually carried the best view to where the young dragons made their homes. It was a long and particularly nerve-wracking journey, and more than once he stopped to curse at his own brand of stubbornness, but eventually he made it to where he could usually find any one of the MacFusty clan when they came out to watch, study, or brood.

Finally, luck was on his side.

Ellie was still processing a lot of things that had arisen over the past couple of days. Or at least trying to. Admittedly, some were easier to make sense of like helping Alasdair move back in because really so much of his stuff was still at the house. The other parts -- the McGonagall parts, and certainly the resignation letter she had written no less than three times -- were far more complicated. Maddock had asked to allow herself time to consider what came next. She honestly didn’t know. She didn’t know how to fix it, and maybe if she was a better person that would have been admission enough, but it wasn’t. So, at least she could give herself the time.

Were the weather better, she might have set up near one of the dragon nests and watched for a couple of hours, content. But even her little dragonlings had burrowed into the caves to escape the onslaught from the blizzard. Nice as it might have been to stay in bed and wake up with Allie on Christmas morning, she was restless.

So, she bundled up and made her way down to the now snow covered craggy beach. The cold was biting with the wind, but she could stand there, staring out at the ocean, and refuse to move.

Owen tried to call out a greeting to Ellie when he saw her, but the sound was ripped away almost at once. He pulled out his wand and put it to his throat, trying again with the Sonorous charm firmly in place. “Happy Christmas to Scotland, right?”

If not for the howling wind, Ellie might have heard his approach. She still might have ignored it, but that was difficult to ignore. “Didn’t expect you to make it all the way out here,” she said yelling to be heard. Owen was smart enough to use magic to amplify his voice, Ellie didn’t quite have that foresight.

“Must be the MacFusty stubbornness rubbing off on me,” he remarked. “Can we get out of this bloody wind? I want to talk, but I’d rather not freeze to death. Surely there’s somewhere close?”

Ellie looked at Owen, then back up to her house just on the hill, and back at the ocean. “I like it out here.” She wasn’t exactly trying to be contrary, but she didn’t know where this was going.

“And then there’s your MacFusty stubbornness,” he muttered- or would have, had the amplification spell not still been in place. Owen cast another warming spell on himself, and then tried a shield spell. It went a little way to cut the wind, but the cold was still an oppressive force. “Come on, Ellie, stop being an arse and come talk to me somewhere.”

She glared at him, pulling out her wand. His shield left something to be desired, hers did not. This was a girl who grew up around dragons, and often made excessive stupid decisions too close to them. One of the first spells Ellie was taught was shield charms strong enough to stand up to dragon fire. Certainly she could manage a little bubble to protect Owen from the wind.

“Better?” She asked.

Owen merely raised a brow at her. “Marginally.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to puzzle her out. They had been in each other’s lives for years now for years, and still had never managed to connect. It was frustrating and a little sad, but there was precious little he could do about that now. The past was the past, and- if the news out of the Ministry could be believed- there wasn’t anything left that could make it not be so.

“I’m not here to fight, Ellie. I’m just here to talk. I’m worried about you.”

Ellie turned to face him, sad for the lack of wind, but at least she didn’t have to yell. “And are you here as family? Co-worker? Concerned citizen?”

“Which one would get you to actually talk to me?” He frowned, and then admitted, “I know you haven’t talked to Lorna since your fight. And I’m worried about that too. But that’s between the two of you. I may be her husband, but she’s your sister. How could I possibly get in the middle of that?”

She laughed. Actually laughed, because wasn’t that rich. “I don’t know, how about the ways you actually did get right in the middle of that?” And this harkened back to the root reason why she never liked Owen -- it felt like he took Lorna away from her.

He looked at her, confused, and then incredulous. “How? How did I get in the middle of it? By marrying her? Is that was this”- he gestured between the two of them- “is all about?”

“Yes, Owen, I regularly punch people because you married and impregnated Lorna.” It was a nice helping of sarcasm, not too far from the truth, but certainly not the whole picture.

Owen felt his eyes narrow. “People. Plural. Besides my wife,” he said slowly, his tone carefully measured, “who else have you been attacking?”

“Punching,” she said as if that was a critical correction. “And do you meant the past week or last couple of months?”

“Let’s start with this season.” And wasn’t it an absolute fucking effort to keep his voice calm.

Ellie sighed. “Well, Meaghan, but that’s nothing new.” That was part of their dynamic. Of everyone she punched, that one might have actually been helpful. It went downhill from there. “A few randoms. Then Lorna, which you knew about.” Was even there to stop and literally pull them off each other.

Things had been okay for a while. Maggie’s lecture actually landing until it was too much. “I sucker punched Maggie after work one day. Slammed Cav into wall after that staff meeting last week. And then I slapped Florrie.” The more she repeated the list, the worse it sounded.

Owen actually took a step back. It was hard for him to decide if it was out of reflex, shock or defensiveness. “Maggie, Cav, and Florrie? Florrie? Why her? Why any of them? You can’t just- what would you have done if they’d called the DMLE? Reported this? Have you ever once stopped to think about that? Are you trying to get fired? Get arrested? What the hell is this all about?”

“Funny you should mention that, I have my letter of resignation prepared if you’d like it right now.” It was the point, but it was her reflexive answer. Honestly, she hadn’t stopped to think of any of that. Not in the moment, and she didn’t even want to fully consider it right now.

Despite the shield charm, Owen could still feel the cold pressing down against him, trying to dig into his skin like tiny little ice knives. He cast the warming spell again, but it was reflex. His head was spinning, and he needed a fucking moment. Because in that instant it was so tempting to snap back a response, to accept that letter and take it straight to the Urquharts himself- and maybe that would ameliorate the situation for the team, but what about Ellie?

He pushed out a breath that sent a thick cloud around his head. “You still haven’t told me why, Ellie. I’ll take your letter right now, let you have done with this mess, if you tell me what’s been going on in your head lately. Otherwise, you can take that resignation and feed it straight to one of your dragons.”

“I’m really starting to fucking hate that question.” She said as she sunk down to the ground and the snow. The cold was the least of her worries right now.

“And yet people evidently keep asking it.” He came around to her, crouching down in front of her. The anger was being leached out of him, leaving behind weary resignation. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. You’re my family, just like Lorna, just like Fergus, just like Rhonna. I’m not in this to bring you down or to be your enemy. Never have been. And I get it if I’m not the one who can help you, but you need to find someone who can. If not for yourself, then for the people you love, and the people who love you.”

She looked at him a long moment. Ellie was still confused by him - by many of the people who kept reaching out, after she pushed them away. While she might not be the smartest, she knew that wouldn’t last forever. Everyone had a limit.

“I barely even like you on most days,” she said finally. Was it the best words? Probably not. Not even close. “Which is what it is, but certainly problematic when everyone at work would be just as happy with me gone.”

Owen couldn’t help but smirk. “Unfortunately, I’m still family, whether you like me or not. You’re not exactly a bundle of Alihotsy branches yourself.” He leaned forward again, balancing his arms on his knees. “I can think of a few exceptions- Meaghan and Scrimmy being the most prominent- and look at the turnaround after the last game. You’re a good coach, Ellie. It’s just your anger management that could use some work.”

“Great,” she said not hiding her sarcasm, “so you’ve arrived at the conclusion of just about everyone else, but now what?” Ellie certainly didn’t have the answer. Not unless that answer was giving Cav her resignation letter and cutting her loses. Did it solve her issues in the long run? No. Did it remove the problem (read: Ellie) from the situation? Definitely.

Rocking back, if only to give his calves a bit of a break, Owen spread his hands wide. “That really depends on you. If you want to try to find help, really get to the bottom of what’s going with you- and I really think that’s an important first step- then I’ll do the leg work, I’ll do the research to find the best resources to help you. It’s what I do best.

“Contrary to what you may believe right now, I don’t want you to self-destruct. I want you to find some kind of outlet for”- he waved a hand in her direction- “all of this. A safe outlet. One that doesn’t involve physical violence toward another person. One that doesn’t involve assault.”

She pressed her forehead into her palms. It was Merc and Gwen all over again. And fuck if that instinct to push him back onto his bottom or throw snow in face wasn’t just Right There in her chest. Ellie knew she was in the wrong here.

She had fucked up. And she had done so bad enough that maybe she didn’t get to come back from this. Maybe she’d cross that line. Although honestly, she never knew where the line was drawn in the first place.

“Owen, I know what’s wrong with me. I’ve known for a long time.” She didn’t immediately look at him or drop her arms. The words trickled out of her in a near hysterical edge, because her anger didn’t burn out, it didn’t sizzle, it just morphed, and changed forms.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said to her, and there was this just-barely-there note of gentleness in his voice, just the wrong side of imperceptible, “but I think you need to tell someone. I think...I think this is hurting you as much as it’s hurting other people, and that’s not okay. You’re not okay.”

Ellie didn’t tell anyone because she didn’t want the pity. Now, telling seemed like an excuse. There was no winning here. The easy answer was to go with the old truism - Elsie was a mess because she couldn’t play quidditch anymore, that she didn’t leave the sport on her own terms. That wasn’t untrue. It just wasn’t the whole story.

“No, I’m not. I’m not getting better,” she said tapping on the side of her head. “Probably the opposite actually.” Well, therapy, but she had lacked the patience for it before. Now it didn’t seem like she was going to have much of a choice. “And I’m terrified of what comes next.”

There was a slow building ache in his gut, and it made him want to reach out, to take her hand. His own twitched where his arms were still somewhat stretched across his knees, which were beginning to protest the prolonged position. He felt a little like he was handling a Horntail in its last days: any wrong movement, sudden or otherwise, and he was either going to be burned or end up as tomorrow’s droppings.

And then he had a revelation, and he had to sit back or risk falling over. He stared at her with a mixture of dawning horror and awful realization. “Ellie,” he said quietly, “has it been like this since the concussion? Is this because of your head injury?”

Concussions. Plural. And playing through the symptoms of some of the later ones. “It was worse, and then better, but I still don’t feel like myself. Not really.” It was also why she was so mad at Lex, so torn up over MacDonald -- really any other of her players who took a hit to the head. Most of them were fine, magic was great, but there were limits.

“I’m just so angry, and I don’t think anyone gets it.” Because sure people got angry, but it felt different for her. “And it’s not like I have ever been the perfect role model or paradigm of good behavior, so why would anyone assume otherwise?”

“Rowena give me strength,” Owen intoned under his breath, looking down at the snow between them. After a moment, wherein several warring things went through his head for him to say aloud, he finally settled on leaning forward and putting his arms around Ellie’s hunched form. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be held accountable for your actions, but there are extenuating circumstances at play here. Look, first thing in the morning, let’s go talk to Graham and Gwen, okay? I’ll- heh, sorry- keep the Bludgers off of you, if I have to.

“You have a medical condition, and the healers have failed you. You shouldn’t have to suffer any more than you already have.”

Ellie could have argued that point about who had failed who, but it didn’t feel particularly relevant. “I was planning on meeting with Cav tomorrow.” She owed him an honest conversation, or at least an in person apology. Especially if they had any intention of continue to work together. “To maybe resign, but at this point definitely offering to step back from the charity match.

“But your plan sounds better.” It would be foolish to imagine a reality in which ownership didn’t find out. So, it was safer to have Owen there to mediate.

“I’ll make it happen,” he assured her. Owen had no idea how this would all play out in the end, even had this poetic nonsense-thought that the blizzard still raging outside of their protective bubble was the perfect analogy to the current situation, but now that the pieces were coming together, maybe they could actually do something about it.