James Potter (prongsilicious) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2019-07-09 20:24:00 |
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Sirius leaned into James. He wished he could say something to make everything better. He wished Atlantis didn't seem to have a mind of its own, that a mythical island couldn't send people back to their deaths. But he didn't have any of those powers. All he had was cheap firewhisky and himself. Not much, if he were being honest, to make up for what had happened. Not much at all.
James didn't really have anything to say. They all knew this was a possibility. They all knew any moment could pass and one of them could be gone. It wasn't that part. It was the knowing what Lily went back to that hurt the most. That made James feel split open and dead inside himself. "Fuck it all," Padfoot," he grumbled. Sirius didn't know what to say either. He had not lived the events of that October, but he knew them as well as he knew his own fate. Idly, he picked at a hole in his jeans. "I know I've said it already, but fuck, I'm sorry, Prongs. I thought…" He paused. The silence felt waited and heavy, knowing that they might not see Lily again. That Atlantis might not bring her back. "Fuck, I thought we'd have more time." "What's time anyway," James muttered, the words drawn together miserably. "Time's shite," he continued. "Today, tomorrow, a hundred years ago, the next moment, none of it fucking matters." That was the problem, wasn't it? If he and Lily could be brought from that night, the night they were fated to die, into another world, alive, and then just as easily Lily could be returned there, moments away from her death, what did anything matter, really. "C'mon, mate," said Sirius, reaching out a hand to his best friend, "I'm supposed to be doom and gloom. You're the light at the end of our wretched tunnel." He tried to crack a smile, but failed. The idea that they were all fated to die had hung heavily with him since the Arena; it was part of the reason he'd been so insistent that he, Julia, and Remus get married. It was better to live out what they could now then to cope with the consequences of what happened to all of them. "Lily wouldn't want us to sit around moping. She'd -- well, she'd certainly have a few very strong words for me if she could see this." James knew Sirius was right, yet at the same time. "Yeah, well, she can give me an hour to wallow and grieve," he said, shaking his head. "Can't just move on like nothing even happened, no matter how much I want to." He could live inside of his own head for a while, he thought, but he knew Sirius had the right way of things. "I'll be fine," he insisted. Eventually. Sirius sighed and then nodded. "Alright, one hour, maybe two. Then we're going to…" He looked around the room for inspiration and, finding only the half empty bottle of firewhisky, pushed onwards. "Merlin, I don't know. I wish I fucking knew what to do here. There's not exactly a textbook on...y'know." Not that he'd have read said book. He'd have passed it off to Moony for the abridged version. "With all the people here and all the people who have left, bet someone could write one. That someone is not me, mind you, but -" James finished the last sip of the firewhiskey in his glass and then reached for the bottle to pour himself more. "Dunno if Lily left any hangover cure potions," he muttered. He'd have to look. She probably had. She was always thinking ahead like that. "Yea, dunno." He took the bottle from James, pouring himself another glass. "Here's to getting through this?" It was a lame toast, if he were being honest, but it wasn't like he could toast to the future. It reminded him of the time just after the Arena when he wasn't sure that he wanted a future here. He was glad that he'd had people to help him work through that, that he had more of a future here than he could have imagined (one that he desperately wanted James to be apart of). James nodded, once, then sighed heavily. "Yeah, that's - I'll drink to that." He tapped his glass against Sirius's then threw a long swallow back. "Thanks, Padfoot. I'm glad you're still here with me." "Cheers to that," he said, knocking back his own drink. They'd figure this out. They always did. |