After it was all done, Gideon finally allowed himself to weep. After the funeral, after Emmeline had sung that heartbreaking song about blackbirds, after murmured sympathies and self-medicating his sleepless nights with bottle after bottle, after everything was as over as it could be, Gideon broke down for her memory.

He traveled to the ruins of the McKinnon Castle and stood just outside the blasted gate. It must have taken most of the magic You-Know-Who had at his reserve to destroy the wards on these ancient lands, but the McKinnons had always been a huge threat so he guessed that it made the expense worth it. They were all so powerful and all so devoted to each other that betrayal was something foreign to them. Gideon was pretty sure the McKinnons had been the only family to never have had anyone go over to Dark magic.

He looked over the grounds of the castle, seeing the blackened shell of the long-empty stables, the formerly clear waters of the loch covered with ash, all the windows shattered and the glass from them laying on the trampled grass like millions of yellow crystals. Gideon sat down just inside the gate, feeling whispers of magic as he stepped through it. She had told him once that one of her ancestors had enchanted the wards to start healing themselves if they were every broken, so that any McKinnon in need would always have a refuge. After the assault they had taken, Gideon knew it would take a long time, probably decades before the wards were back at even half strength.

He closed his eyes against the feeling of the familiar magic. He had gotten the same feeling of power and fearlessness whenever she had cast a spell on him to fix his hurts or shield him. Especially when it was a shield – magic always held a touch of its master when cast, and her spells had filled him with daring and swept him up in love and care. Even before they were together, she had always cared about him. She cared about everyone and wore her heart on her sleeve like it was a badge of honor.

Gideon had often thought that the most powerful magic was cast by the most passionate people. Whether or not he was right, she had made it seem like that was the only possible explanation for how strong she was. He remember the caress of her hand on his face and the look of pure, unadulterated love in her eyes better than anything, and when she had fought next to him it was almost impossible to even contemplate losing.

The night before she died she had showed up on his doorstep at one in the morning. He had invited her in instantly, fixing her a cup of tea. She had taken a seat on the couch and for a few seconds he let himself just look at her, his perfect Marlene. Her dark blond hair was like molten gold flowing in waves over her shoulders down to her waist, her eyes were a warm and sweet cobalt blue, her mouth quick to smile and her lips a naturally rosy red. He so rarely saw her this gentle, with a soft smile and her body relaxed into a chair, the long fingers of her left hand threaded through her handle of her mug. Of course, she was still on edge. War her turned her into even more of a firebrand, had made her even more wild and daring. But only around him was she this relaxed, and he reveled in the feeling.

Thinking back on those few seconds of perfect peace, Gideon closed his eyes against the memory. Could she have been planning even then her revenge, despite the look of calm on her face? Could she have already planned out that she would be gone before he woke up? Could she have any idea how much it hurt?

"Hey you," she had greeted him. "How was patrol?"

"Same as ever. We ran into a few problems but nothing too serious."

"That's rare." He remembered nodding in agreement and she had been silent for a few moments. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked eventually, raising an eyebrow at him.

"How will you die, Marlene?"

A smile, fierce and bold and full of fire and a complete change from her previous expression, had touched her lips. The fingers of her right hand had stroked the pale notches of white against the dark blackthorn wood of her wand. She had carved those notches herself, each one in memory of someone she loved who had died. There were more than Gideon cared to count or even look at too long. "Why do you ask?" He had shrugged but didn't say anything.

"In a blaze of glory," she had answered definitively. "The final reckoning. And I will not be defeated."

"You'll die," he had murmured.

He knew her answer before she said it. "That doesn't mean I'll lose."

He didn't doubt that for a second. He had watched as she twirled the long wand around her fingers. It spat dark blue and bright gold sparks once or twice. Gideon had never seen the wand produce anything but those color sparks. Most wands, especially when the witch or wizard was at Hogwarts, seemed to produce House colors. But Marlene's had never shot out anything but the McKinnon gold and blue.

He swallowed hard at the memory, trying to prevent more tears from coming. He had things to do, patrols to go on, Fabian to reassure, but he couldn't bring himself to move from the broken gateway.

She had been born for war, she had told him once. He'd disagreed with her vehemently, saying that no one was born for war, but she had just shaken her head with a tiny smile on her face. "There's a saying that in every generation of my family there's an artist, a beauty, and a warrior. My cousin Moran can break your heart with a song and his guitar. With just a look, my sister Moira can make anyone fall in love with her and want to protect her."

Gideon had cut her off before she could continue. "I'll eat this teacup if you're not the beauty of your family."

That had startled a laugh out of her. "Start chewing, then. You've met Moira, you know what I mean."

"Moira's lovely, don't get me wrong. But you're... you're fire where she's rain. You're passion where she's reserved."

"Stop," Marlene had said, rolling her eyes at him. "She is the sweetest person you will ever meet and she could charm the pants off of anyone if she so much as batted her eyelashes at them. But even when we were young and looked exactly alike, I'd go off looking for adventures and getting into fights when boys were mean to her, and she'd just try to talk things out. She..." Marlene had giggled, then continued, "she had a wart right on the edge of her nose when she was seven. Mum fixed it the next day, but it was there for a little while. I was barely six, but I remember some boys laughed at her when we were in London with Mum and Dad. I didn't even warn them, I just ran over and tackled the biggest one then broke his nose and arm. Dad had to haul me off and Mum did the apologizing. They both yelled at me later and then Moira begged them not to, because I was only defending her. I remember Mum and Dad looking at each other. Mum's breath caught and she sounded like she was about to cry when she said, 'Ernie, do you think...?' Dad looked at me with pride mixed with sadness in his eyes and knelt down, taking my shoulders in his hands. I had no idea what was happening, but he said, 'Clara, we got the warrior too.'"

Gideon felt tears on his face, stinging in the light wind. But that was his Marlene, not taking anyone's shit when it came to those she loved. When he closed his eyes, the memory of their last conversation that had followed directly on the heels of him asking her how she would die, sprang up word for word.

"You heard about Edgar Bones?" She had asked, even though she already knew the answer. They had all heard about Edgar and his family. She had that fighting look in her eyes again, the one he knew to mean that she was going on the hunt for retribution soon.

"I heard." He hadn't wanted to continue but he couldn't stop himself from it. "You look like a hippogriff about to pounce."

She had laughed a little. "Less beaky, surely," but her heart wasn't in the joke. He waited for her to continue, knowing she wasn't done. "You know, in every life there comes a day of reckoning. We have to look back on what we've done."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to look back and see if we've done enough. After I heard about Edgar I realized I hadn't done enough. I haven't done everything I could to try and stop You-Know-Who."

"You're not suggesting that we go after him directly."

"Not we. Me." She had said it with such simplicity that it had taken a few seconds for him to process what she was suggesting.

"That's suicide."

"Is it?" She had turned to look at him fully, cobalt blue eyes blazing in the candlelight. "You know me, Gideon. You know what I can do."

"Marlene, you can't be thinking of going after him yourself." Gideon remembered feeling a surge of panic at the idea. She was more powerful than anyone he had met besides Dumbledore, but that didn't mean... he looked at her in panic, grabbing her hands. "Promise me you won't go after him alone! Promise me!"

She had seemed a little disturbed by his urgency. "Alright, I promise! Calm down, I was just saying things."

Gideon couldn't hold back a raw sob at that memory. She had kept her promise, of course. She always kept her promises. She had just recruited the remnants of her family to go with her so she hadn't been by herself. She had still died, though. He should have made her promise not to do that instead.

Marlene had stopped talking about fighting after that and they had gone to bed. He didn't remember feeling her leave in the middle of the night, so silent had she been. When he had woken up, she had been gone. That was unlike her, as he had also made her promise to stop leaving him without saying goodbye first a few months before. Concerned, he had checked the bathroom and then the kitchen before hurrying out the door and to Emmeline's house, the Order headquarters.

She hadn't been there either, though a clearly hungover Emmeline told him that she had come by in the middle of the night. He immediately roused the rest of the people who had slept the night in headquarters and gone out to look for her. After hours of searching they had found her, and Gideon had vague memories of bodies, blood, and then being knocked over the head by Fabian.

He stood up, wiping his face on his scarf. The whispers of magic brushed him again, and he knew his time in the ruins was up. "No one's coming back here, though," he murmured. "There are none left."

Gideon took his leave of the castle and went home, ignoring his brother's questions. He shut the door to his bedroom and then opened it irritably a few minutes later when there was a knock. Fabian held out a scrap of parchment and then told him that it had been on the table the morning she had gone. He said he had kept it until after the funeral and he was sorry for that. Gideon took it with murmured acceptance of the apology and looked at it once the door was shut again, a stab of pain going through him as he recognized the familiar long and slanted handwriting.

Gideon,

I tried to tell you last night that in every life there comes a day of reckoning, a time when unsettled scores demand their retribution. Mine is here and now. I cannot live anymore in a world where children are murdered simply because their parents choose to fight against those who would rule them mercilessly. I have a score to settle and as much as I love you and dream of a life without war with you, would you love me if I was anything less than what I am? I am the warrior of the generation, and I cannot stand idly by any longer. Patrols aren't enough, and they haven't been for a long time. If this war is ever going to end, the power of You-Know-Who must end. You have all my love, now and forever, and I'm sorry we couldn't live in a more forgiving time.

Stay strong and stay safe,

Marlene

Gideon stared at the letter for longer than he took to read it, then pressed it to his lips. "I would still love you," he said, hating the lie as he said it. She would be beautiful but not made of fire and glory, she would be strong but not passionate, and he knew that he had fallen in love with the Marlene who would lay her life on the line for a kitten stuck in a tree, to say nothing of innocent children.

He folded the parchment up neatly and tucked it into his breast pocket. A day of reckoning... he was starting to see what she had meant by that. When the things you've lost and the things you've failed at outweigh the things you've done that are good.

"Gid?" Fabian knocked on his door again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Fabe," he said after a few seconds. "Just thinking."