One may notice that in the following chapters, I actually call Snape by his name within the text. That's because the story now focuses on both Snape and Mag, rather than just Snape's point of view.
…
All right, and purposefully not writing his name was getting to be a serious pain in my ass.
...
Mag did not often drink.
But when she did, she got good and smashed.
On this particularly warm night in June, she was in the lonely solitude of her apartment downing more vodka than was wise. There were guides they gave you about how much alcohol was safe to consume based on your weight and your sex and your general health, but she ignored them.
Severus' letters had brought her both great joy and humor, as well as several other intense emotions, but also an alarming spike of depression. For the first time since she was in her teens, Mag found herself aching for the world she'd discovered as a child- a world of magic and fantastic things that remained untainted by Rotti.
She also found herself aching even more strongly for the man who had just about proposed to her via owl post.
She'd picked through the old photo albums left by her parents, through a few old spell books she'd managed to save from Rotti's initial purge of anything magical in her possession. They brought back strong memories of her childhood, things her parents would read to her from the books even though they understood very little of what they were saying.
She remembered these things and drank like a fish, wandering about her apartment and trying to think clearly (A lost cause, at this point). Eventually, her pacing brought her to the bedroom.
Mag stared at herself in the mirror for a moment, silent. She saw kohl-covered eyes, dark red lips and pale, porcelain skin. She saw a beautiful young woman who was, particularly considering who her employer was, probably looking forward to another fifty years of life. She saw a woman whose face was plastered on every available wall on Sanitarium Island, and whose voice could be heard anywhere on said island.
She also saw a woman who'd basically taken part in selling a death sentence to hundreds, if not more, people for the sake of cosmetics. She saw a woman who was helping the big bad wolf get a jump on the Little Red Riding Hoods of the world. She saw a woman who was smiling and waving as she ushered the pigs into a slaughter chute.
But worst of all, she saw a woman who was too much of a coward to back out and sacrifice herself to help others.
She didn't deserve shit.
Mag threw down the bottle, which smashed against the hardwood floor and sent miniscule shards of rebounding glass into her hand.
It was, of course, in this momentary lapse of reason that Severus Snape arrived.
It was considered rude to apparate directly into another person's abode under normal circumstances- you never knew exactly what it was that you'd be popping into- but Mag had insisted that he do so, and he hadn't argued, because it was crucial that no one saw him come into or leave Mag's apartment.
He had expected to see Mag either on the couch or on the bed. This meant that he had not expected to see her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with her hand dripping with blood and smashed glass on the floor beside her.
He blinked. Then he jumped to action, quickly stepping forward and guiding her away from the glass. Given her less-than-perfectly-coherent state, he all but dragged her into the bathroom and set about, with a series of small flicking motions with his wand, removing the glass from her ivory skin.
"Mag," Severus said as he worked, careful not to break his overall concentration, "What happened?"
Mag shrugged. He'd seen her shrug before, and this was a slightly less dignified version of the motion in question. This accompanied by the unmistakable scent of vodka that seemed to surround her clarified her situation to him a little better. He made no attempt to talk to her after that moment, instead focusing intently on his task.
When he was finished and her hand was bandaged, he left her in the bathroom for a minute or two to clear up the glass, vanishing it in seconds. Before returning to his intoxicated lover, however, he took a quick detour to the living room and counted two empty bottles of vodka on the table. Mag had smashed the third one, also empty, on the floor.
Pausing, Severus sighed and shut his eyes for a moment as he thought of the best course of action. Three bottles of vodka, particularly for someone who didn't drink that often, would be hell. It would be courteous of him to brew a potion that would help sober her up- at least to a point where he wouldn't have to worry about her head exploding from the pounding hangover pains.
The ingredients needed for such a potion would not be especially difficult, but it would require him to leave the apartment for a time. Before leaving, he situated Mag in bed and bade her to sleep- not a tricky endeavor, given that she already seemed to be succumbing to the effects of the alcohol. At the door, he took one last look at her, and felt his heart tighten; she was miserable. And then- Then he felt anger.
I should have dragged her off with me last August.
...
"I can't do this any more."
It was morning. At, perhaps, midnight, Severus had returned to the apartment, managed to wake the soprano to a state of sufficient consciousness, and got her to drink the potion. At the moment, she wasn't in the best condition, but she was far better off than the night before.
'I can't do this anymore' was the first phrase she'd spoken since he'd arrived. For a moment, he wondered if maybe she meant drinking- Had she taken up the bottle a little more than usual over the past year? Maybe. It was hard to learn such things from letters unless she'd lapsed so much as to spill bourbon onto the paper at some point or another (He had no recollection of any such instance occurring).
Severus looked down at her. She was sitting at her kitchen table (He was standing next to her), having just shuffled out of the bedroom. She looked defeated.
"GeneCo." She clarified. "I can't do it any more. I can't stand what I do. I can't stand knowing what I'm doing to people. I quit."
He nodded very slowly and wondered if that potion had kicked in all of the way yet. Mag seemed to sense this.
"I mean it, Severus. I'm done with GeneCo. If your offer still stands, I'm retiring and going back to England with you." He wasn't certain he was hearing her correctly. If he was, then this was the best day he'd had since that terribly embarrassing Quidditch match between Gryffindor (The losers) and Slytherin (The victors) two years prior- Minerva hadn't been able to look him in the eye for weeks.
"You're serious?"
"Deadly." He wished she could have used another adjective. "As soon as I stop seeing double," She gave her head a little shake, "I'm going to go talk to Rotti. I'm retiring whether he wants it or not. And he won't."
Severus wondered how his next question would be perceived; he was predicting depression or indifference. Risking inspiring depression in her was not something he was itching to do, but it was, indeed, a very important query.
"And the Repoman?"
Mag's breath caught in her throat.
"I… Will…" She swallowed. "I'll figure something out."
...
Severus' morning was spent on pins and needles. Mag said that, wizard or not, there was no way to get into and then travel around the GeneCo building without being seen and that, of all things, was something they didn't need.
And so his morning on pins and needles, from 10:30 to 12:00, was therefore spent in Mag's apartment, pacing around her living room and hoping to high hell that Rotti didn't call in the Repoman to get a hold of Mag immediately. Every ten minutes that past left him itching to go find her, to just say 'Enough with decorum, just run away with me, woman!'
If you asked him when he'd become such a romantic, Severus Snape would tell you to kindly shut up.
Really, what could be taking so long? He tried to convince himself that Rotti might not be able to go through with killing Mag, and that it may have been an empty but potent threat for all these years.
It wasn't that he believed that Rotti had grown attached to her, no; he was, without a doubt, a complete bastard. Mag, however, was a loved public figure, at least by those who supported GeneCo (He was careful not to think about those who hated GeneCo and what they must think of her- it would only start his blood boiling). Pulling such an ugly move might not endear him to the good people of Sanitarium Island.
But at the same time, Severus reminded himself that the people on this island were not amongst the brightest. Sure, some would have the sense to back out of any and all dealings with GeneCo. But how long would it take Rotti to find new talent? How long would it take him to replace Mag, and find someone else to capture the attention so that everyone forgot the beautiful soprano?
The door flew open and slammed shut. Mag stood in all of her glory, looking pale as a ghost. He dared to ask.
"How did it go?"
Mag sucked in a deep breath, her hand still clutching the door handle. She was trembling. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, sitting against the door- her legs had turned to jelly and could no longer support her weight.
He was next to her in an instant, gently wrapping his arms around her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting embrace before helping her off the floor and onto the nearby couch.
"He was- He was- I thought he was going to- And Luigi had his- I thought Rotti would let him- Or let Pavi take my- Or let Amber- They were all- But he-" Severus had never seen Mag panic before, and he swore that from that point on he would make it his mission in life to never let it happen again.
This time he didn't let her out of his embrace, waiting until she'd calmed enough to form a proper sentence. "What did he say?" Mag shivered and clutched him harder. He could feel her acute trembling and would have loved nothing more than to have gone up to Largo's office and set a dozen or so highly venomous snakes loose into the ventilation system.
"That's just it, Severus," Her voice was low. "He said I could go. He went from furious, screaming like mad at me, and then he was calm. He said I could go if I really wanted to. All he asked was that I do at least one final performance." She started to panic again. "That's where he'll do it, Severus. He'll send the Repoman after me. He'll make it look like an accident, or he'll just tell everyone I went off to be a hermit or something so they'll never-"
"Are you currently operating under the assumption that I'd let that man do anything to you?" Severus asked softly. "Because if you are, I'm taking you away now and checking you into the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo's. There is a reason I'm here, Magdalene, just as there was a reason I wrote all of those letters to you over the past year, and a reason as to why I kept coming back to speak with you after we met."
Mag looked up at him. "And that reason would be?"
"This isn't a muggle soap-opera, Mag. You'll not hear me say it out loud." She laughed, and he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't the most stable-sounding laugh that he'd ever heard. "When is this final performance?"
"This Friday." Mag turned a strange mix between ghostly-white and green at the prospect. In response, he gripped her shoulders firmly but gently and turned her to look him in the eye.
"For the next five and a half days, I will be dogging your steps everywhere you go. If Rotti, or his psychotic brood of brats, or this Repoman want to lay so much as a hand on you, they'll have to get through me first."
Mag thought about that for a moment. Finally, she managed a brave smile.
"They're dead."
...
Mag was as stunning an actress as she was a soprano.
Her breakdown on Sunday had been her last; not an ounce of terror or worry bled past her eyes for that week. It was a display of courage, and a display of control over one's emotions, and if there was any man who could appreciate a woman who could shut her emotions on and off at the drop of a hat, it was Severus Snape.
Oh, he was in- in-
…That word he was having a little trouble saying aloud, though he did allow his mind to whisper it every now and then. He'd never even said it to her- He hadn't found an opportunity to say it without sounding like an idiot (In all fairness, she had yet to say it to him either).
Severus knew this and therefore had not pressed the issue that had come up in their very last few letters over the summer. She had not given him an answer, but rather changed the subject and left it hanging. Since then, so much had happened that he wasn't certain he wanted to add that extra stress on.
On Friday, Mag was to cut the ribbon for the opening of the new opera house; the one that her final performance would take place in. Preceding and following the ribbon-cutting ceremony was an Italian Renaissance Fair sponsored by GeneCo. Severus stayed with her for the duration of the morning until she had to leave, and then shadowed her all the way to the fair. Though he hated crowds, it was much easier to get lost amongst the people and watch Mag from nearby as she got ready for the ceremony.
Standing as close as he dared, with his back to her dressing tent, he folded his arms behind his back. He had already sliced a thin slit into the canvas material to speak through if necessary; However, Mag's guard was currently inside with her, and so any attempts at communication were a no go.
When Mag finally emerged from the tent in a tight, dark green dress that complimented her figure nicely, he made no pretense of looking away. Mag's guard glared at him and fingered her rifle, but Mag frowned and waved her off. "Stop it." She looked at Severus. "Enjoying the festival?" She tried to sound casual. He sniffed.
"More or less. You know how I feel about social events." He glanced around. "Any sign of your employer or his wayward set of spawn?"
"No, not-"
"WHAT'S THIS? RAT PISS?" Mag moaned and they both turned to observe Luigi trying to stab some poor assistant to death with a ball-point pen. Unlike the incident with the baguette, this was actually very dangerous, and Mag ran over.
"Luigi, stop it!" Luigi looked up at her, glaring. Before he could speak, though, everyone was distracted by Amber's arrival. She came up on Mag with a haughty step and a scowl on her frequently changing features. Severus was immensely pleased in the knowledge that however many surgeries Amber had, she would never be anywhere near as beautiful as Mag.
"Who's gonna sing, then, after you leave?" Amber snarled at her. Luigi, distracted by his sister's arrival and highly interested in the cat-fight she was trying to incite, stood up. The assistant scrambled away, nursing his wounds and whimpering like a kicked dog. Mag shook her head, exasperated.
"Amber, please- It's not my place." She turned to walk away, and Amber grabbed her shoulder and roughly spun her around again. Severus scowled, but did not move. The last thing he wanted was to see Mag being manhandled, but showing anything other than mild interest for her- they were only supposed to be old school friends, remember- could make things worse for her.
"Someone must sing! Why can't it be me?" Amber glared at Mag as though the soprano was the cause for all of her ills. Paviche Largo, materializing from the smog, from whatever deep, dark hole the freak returned to when not in public, approached his sister with a sigh.
"Sister, please-"
"Amber-"
"Listen you bitch!" Now Luigi jumped in.
"When I'm running GeneCo-" Amber snorted.
"In your dreams!"
"Everyone loves the Pavi!"
"When the geezer croaks you'll all learn to respect me!"
For once, Severus was not sorry to see Rotti Largo approach.
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
The children all pointed to one another.
"BUT THEY-"
"SHE-"
"CHILDREN, OFF!
The Largo brats, thank Merlin, took off. Mag released a sigh of relief. Rotti glared after them, not noticing Severus near the tent. The Professor, meanwhile, was examining the person Rotti had brought with him- other than his two henchwomen.
She couldn't have been more than ten years old, a little girl with long, straight black hair and large brown doe-eyes. She was staring at Mag as though the singer was a goddess, eyes filled with adoration and idolization. Mag didn't notice the girl at first, so focused she was on Rotti, who was now smiling that ugly smile at her.
"Mag. I'd like you to meet someone- the daughter of an old friend. A little ghost from your past." He stood behind the little girl and put his hands on her shoulders. "This is Shilo. Shilo Wallace."
Mag froze.
Her eyes remained locked on the child.
Something stirred in Severus' memory. The name 'Shilo' struck a chord. Had Mag mentioned that name to him before? She must have. He couldn't imagine what else would prompt her to stare at the child as though she'd seen a ghost. He also couldn't imagine what else would prompt Rotti to sport such a shit-eating grin.
"Ah, seeing you two stirs memories." Rotti smiled down at Shilo, who smiled back up at him with blind trust and happiness. "Mag was only 19 … Not much older than your mother had been when I met her."
"Really?" Shilo's innocent inquiry managed to drown out the soft choke-squeak noise that escaped Mag's throat.
"Oh yes! I heard her lovely voice, and knew right then that I'd do anything to help her achieve her dreams as a singer."
Never before in his life had Severus Snape been so compelled to choke someone.
(On a completely unrelated note, this urge would come again in a year's time once he was introduced to the dim-witted wonder that was Gilderoy Lockhart).
Mag had managed to dull some of her obvious shock, and was now looking at Shilo with something akin to wonder and interest. She regarded the little girl as though she were a particularly rare flower that just happened to pop up out of nowhere, beautiful and surprising and so pure and innocent and sweet…
"And that, Shilo, is why I want to help you as well."
Severus just barely caught the look of abject horror that struck Mag's beautiful features before she reined herself in again.
Whoever this girl was, she would not by any means benefit from any help of Rotti Largo's.
Whatever she was feeling right then, Mag seemed to have taken the same line of thought as him, and seemed ready to say something, anything, when-
"Will the voice of GeneCo please take the stage? Blind Mag, to the stage!"
An energetic woman's voice came over the PA system.
Mag lingered a moment, fixated on Shilo, but then numbly turned around and made for the stage. But as she passed Severus, she dared a look back at Rotti and the child. Rotti was talking to Shilo again. In that split second when his eyes were not on his precious caged bird, Mag seized Severus' shirt and pulled him over to her.
"Keep an eye on her!" Mag gasped at him before letting go and moving on as though nothing had happened.
...
"Oh Mag, I really wish you wouldn't go!" Rotti said with a pained look, his arm wrapped around Mag's shoulders. The pair stood on the steps leading up to the theater where the Genetic Opera would be hosted that night. Severus twitched and tried not to focus on how close the two were. Mag managed a weak smile.
"It's difficult," She directed it to both Rotti and the crowd, "But I really should… Give it a rest." Rotti's eyes narrowed in mock anger.
"Come now, Mag, you belong to GeneCo! Remember?" For a moment, a split second, Mag looked stricken. In the crowd, Severus tensed. Had Rotti really just said that out loud? To a very large gathering of people?
But then the tycoon laughed. "Of course I joke!" Everyone laughed, and Mag managed a faint chuckle, her smile on the borderline of a grimace.
"Of course," She echoed hollowly. Rotti gave her a little squeeze, still chuckling.
"You are free to go, dear. Your presence at GeneCo will be sorely missed." He motioned to Luigi, who handed his father a large pair of scissors, which were then held out to Mag. She hesitated, but then accepted them, turned and cut the red ribbon that lay stretched across the doors of the theater.
There was a great deal of clapping. Shilo was grinning and bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. But for nearly a minute, as the crowd descended into chatter around her and eight GenTerns opened the doors to the theater, Mag's carefully pleasant expression melted away, and Severus saw that she was troubled.
Not just troubled, really- desolate. And every part of her demeanor reflected it. Her shoulders slumped a bit, hindered by her natural poise, her eyes darkened and looked at the ground, and her smile had dissolved into an almost-frown that was fraught with nervousness.
Then she caught Severus' eye. A moment later, she was smiling again, and this time it was genuine. A voice boomed over the loudspeakers as Mag and Rotti took a bow.
"Everybody, Everybody,
Line up! Line up!
We got tickets
Opera tickets
Don't be shy!"
"Hey!" Someone squawked. Severus was rudely jostled by one of Rotti's henchwomen. The pair had both, plain as day, come up to little Shilo and grabbed her by the wrists, dragging her off through the waves of people. He remembered the way that Mag had reacted upon seeing this girl and wondered if maybe he should follow.
Mag was being questioned (interrogated) by reporters at the moment. No way to get an opinion from her. Severus was not overly fond of children (That could happen when you taught children ranging from ten to eighteen every day for a year whilst also living in the same castle with them), but remembered Mag's hissed message and, out of respect and- and that other word he had a harder time saying- followed her.
...
Trailing this little Shilo girl took him to a place he never thought he'd end up: A back alley full of what he quickly realized must have been scalpel-sluts and straight-up zydrate addicts.
If she learned where this kid had run off to, Mag was going to have a conniption fit.
To explain: Severus had followed Shilo and the guards to a tent, into which the little girl was unceremoniously shoved. By the time he managed to surreptitiously sneak around the back and get inside, he'd nearly been bowled over by a young man with rainbow hair and a ratty old coat, as well as too much make-up to be normal.
And who was this odd man dragging by the wrist?
It had to be Shilo. It couldn't be one of the hundreds of other children that likely inhabited Sanitarium, oh no. That would make this too easy.
A simple tracking spell helped him keep up, and it was lucky that he was a wizard and therefore capable of performing tracking spells, because this guy knew the streets well, and Severus lost sight of them more than a few times.
And thus we return to the alley of zydrate addicts.
"Graverobber," A few croaked, bleary-eyed and pale as Shilo and the man skidded to a stop. Severus remained concealed in the shadows. "What's up? You got a hit?"
So he was a Graverobber. Severus was abruptly dragged back a year, when he and Mag had met in the graveyard, and Mag had said that he didn't fit the stereotypical image of a grave robber.
Thank. Merlin.
These had to be hard-core junkies, though; he'd seen Amber, and if she was really as addicted as some of these people, she was probably using her surgery connections to conceal it. And he would admit that Rotti seemed to have some damn good surgeons working for him.
"Where are we?" Shilo whispered, staring wide-eyed at the zombie-people and their drugged-out expressions. Graverobber spread his arms out.
"This, my dear, is the location of the Zydrate Support Network meeting house." He jerked his head towards a yellowed, rusting sign near a dark, musty staircase that led into the basement of a building.
"Zydrate?"
Severus was almost certain that the head of every junkie turned to stare stupidly at Shilo, as though she'd grown wings and started speaking in tongues. Zydrate had become such an integral aspect of their lives that they'd forgotten that some people didn't know about it at all.
Graverobber grinned. "Never heard of it? Daddy keeps you locked up pretty tight, doesn't he Princess?" Shilo blushed a deep red and mumbled something incoherent. Graverobber chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Well, allow me to give you a crash course on the subject."
He reached into his coat and pulled a small glass container filled with a glowing blue liquid. The junkies all hissed eagerly and stepped forward. Graverobber held the zydrate up. "The rhyme goes something like this: 'Zydrate comes in a little glass vial'." He beckoned Shilo closer with a finger and held it in front of her eyes.
"A… Little glass vial?" She repeated, squinting at the glimmering liquid with more than some bemusement. Graverobber nodded.
"A little glass vial. 'And the little glass vial goes into the gun like a battery'." Again, from inside his coat, Graverobber removed a small metal syringe-gun, clicking the vial inside. He then looked around at the junkies and nodded to a young blonde woman with blue streaks in her hair. She grinned in a feral manner and slapped a wad of money against his chest.
"'And the zydrate gun goes somewhere against your anatomy'." He pressed the gun to the woman's stomach, bared by a tube-top and a ridiculously low skirt.
It suddenly occurred to Severus that this Graverobber fellow was, basically, teaching ten year-old Shilo how to inject a potentially dangerous and addictive drug into her body after, presumably, purchasing it illegally on the streets (Rotti, most likely, did not hand zydrate out for home use very often).
He wondered if he should intervene. On one hand, he'd be pulling Shilo out of a situation that Mag would, most certainly, not approve of (And he would be damned if he was relating this tale to her later). On the other hand, though, Shilo had no idea who he was, and Severus knew very well, having been teaching at Hogwarts for nearly ten years, that he was no particularly good with children.
For the time being, he would wait.
"'And when the gun goes off it sparks, and you're ready for surgery'." He pulled the trigger, and the woman fell to the ground, gasping and moaning. Shilo went very, very pale.
Ding, check please: Time for Shilo to go home. Telling her how to take drugs was one thing, demonstrating it was another.
But then, more of that horrible luck that was so attracted to Severus Snape hit once more, this time in the form of Amber Sweet stomping down the alleyway (Looking like a world-class whore) with two bodyguards close behind.
"Graverobber," She crooned seductively. Smirking when he grinned back at her lewdly (She wore a black corset and a black miniskirt and nothing else), she started to snuggle up to him and purr something to him whilst Shilo went dark red and tried to make herself small as possible.
Damn.
Moving out into the open was not a good option; Amber had seen him a year before, and may have seen him at the festival. Severus was now hesitantly taking Mag's warning to heart and assuming that Amber was smarter than she looked, and probably had a fair memory; just enough to notice when the stranger that was associated with Mag was poking his nose in where he oughtn't.
Amber backed up to the wall of the alley as the other addicts watched with a mixture of disgust, jealousy and admiration (She was, undoubtedly, the queen addict). Graverobber grinned at Shilo. "Amber Sweet: Addicted to the knife."
"Addicted to the knife?" Shilo repeated again. Severus rolled his eyes. If there was any one pet peeve of his, it was running into a child that had to repeat everything they heard back to check if they'd heard it correctly.
"Addicted to the knife- To surgery. And, addicted to the knife, she needs a little help with the agony." He wagged his eyebrows comically as he held up the zydrate gun, clicking a new vial in with one fluid motion. "And a little help comes in a glass vial and a gun pressed against her anatomy. One pull of the trigger and Miss Sweet is ready for surgery."
Amber, who'd had her eyes shut as Graverobber spoke, opened one lazily and gave him a half-glare. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you." Graverobber have a cocky smirk back.
"Something to do with this, I think." He pulled the trigger and she gasped, slumping against the wall and grinning as the high took over. He stood back and observed her roguishly, eyes raking over her now slumped form. Idly, he whistled a little tune that, to Severus struck a familiar chord in his memory.
As he tried to comprehend the concept of himself and this grave robber knowing the same songs, Shilo answered his silent question, piping up, "Isn't that one of Blind Mag's songs?"
It was amazing how quickly those addicts cleared out.
Amber's eyes snapped open, and she was upright in a flash. "Who said that?" She snarled, eyes finally fixating on Shilo, who winced and drew back. Graverobber was watching impassively, eyes flickering between the two females. Amber stumbled forward, muscles still reeling from the shot of zydrate.
If Severus hadn't been certain that Amber was too debilitated by the high to do any actual harm to Shilo, he would have cut his losses and cursed the woman into oblivion. She was a waste of space who spent her free time harassing Mag; and honestly, he didn't think her father would mind.
"You think you got heart? You think you got balls? You think Mag can sing?" Amber sneered mockingly as she towered over Shilo, who cowered and flinched under the older girl's stare.
"I don't think nothing at all."
"So you think Mag has pipes? Well, it'll be my turn to shine when the Repoman strikes!" Shilo's eyes went wide, frozen.
"What are you talking about?" Amber motioned to one of her guards, who handed her a rolled up magazine that she slapped into Shilo's now shaking hands. Graverobber leaned over and flipped the pages for her until they reached the right one. He jabbed his finger at something on the page.
"You see, Mag's contract has some… Fine print."
"Fine print?" Severus edged a little closer towards them, hoping that the motion didn't draw attention to himself. What exactly were they looking at?
"Oh yes. It's got her in quite the predicament. You see, if Mag splits, her eyes are forfeit, and if Rotti and GeneCo so will it: A Repoman will come and she'll pay for that surgery she had."
Shilo, if possible, went even paler than before. Severus recalled her euphoric face upon meeting Mag. But something pressed on his mind, nagging: The complications of Mag's contract were public knowledge? Why, then, was no one protesting? And why would Rotti have let that information get public? It would only vilify him more when Mag's eyes were eventually repossessed.
He didn't have much time to ponder this. Either to avoid more humiliation or, in a slimmer chance, actually caring that his daughter was currently shooting up on a dangerous drug, Rotti had sent a full-blown SWAT team to recover Amber from the alley. Severus gratefully followed Shilo and Graverobber as they bolted and eventually hopped onto the back of a slow-moving garbage truck.
They ended up in the graveyard where Severus and Mag had met. Shilo neatly hopped off as the truck passed a noticeably well-kept tomb, waving a goodbye to Graverobber before opening the door and slipping inside. When the truck was out of sight, Severus chanced a closer look.
On the door was the inscription:
MARNI WALLACE
1962 – 1991
MOTHER TO SHILO
MAY SHE REST IN PEACE
And suddenly, all was clear.
When he apparated into Mag's apartment, he was greeted by a less than calm, cool and collected opera star.
"Where is she? Where's Shilo?" She gasped, grasping Severus' arm in supplication. He took a deep breath.
"She went home."
Mag wasn't simply frantic now- she was agitated. Angry.
"I'm going to kill him."
...
She'd gone alone. She had a guard with her, and it was now apparent that Rotti wasn't planning on anything until, at the very least, the opera was over, and so when Mag asked Severus to stay in apartment and wait for her there, he didn't argue. He also wasn't certain, given the expression on Mag's face when she'd left him, that he'd want to see the showdown between her and one Nathan Wallace.
It took only half an hour, maybe more, maybe les before she finally returned. Unlike the previous Sunday morning, Severus managed to wait out her return in relative peace. All the same, though, he sprang off the couch when he heard the doorknob turn.
Mag was not a happy woman.
And she was more than happy to explain why.
"He threw you out?"
"Yes."
Mag stormed across her apartment, feeling very much like throwing something. As there was nothing in her hand, she settled with giving the couch a sharp kick before spinning about and dropping down on it. Her arms rested on her knees, her hands propped up her head, which she shook in disbelief. She felt the couch sink as Severus sat down beside her, and then felt his hand on her back.
"He's keeping her locked up. Says she has some blood disease that means she can't go outside- can't be around people, can't breathe the outside air without a gas mask. A gas mask!" Her voice was bitter and harsh, and she furiously reached down and started to remove her boots.
"With respect to your anger," Severus said wryly, "I'm tempted to wear a mask in this city as well."
"Severus, don't you understand? Nathan's kept Shilo caged up in that house her entire life, and it'll be for the rest of her life unless he finds a cure! Shilo is a little girl who wants to go outside and explore, and Rotti is offering her the key that Nathan is not! What would you do?"
Severus sniffed. "I can't comment. You've biased my opinion on Rotti entirely." He paused. "So he's priming her to become the next you- only twenty years younger. Groom her into a new spokeswoman for GeneCo."
Mag sighed and shook her head as she stood and stalked off to her bedroom. "I wish that that wasn't the obvious answer, but it is." He followed after, watching neutrally as she threw her shoes down next to the bed and moved over to the mirror. He noted the time on the digital clock next to her bed: 4:00 PM. Four hours until the opera.
Meanwhile, Mag stared into the mirror, her hands clenching into fists. Those unnatural eyes stared back at her, allowed her to see everything she was and everything she'd become. What she wouldn't give to be-
She froze.
"Yes."
Severus looked up. Mag wasn't talking to him, though. She was looking into the mirror with a thoughtful, peaceful, curious expression. "What?"
"That's it. That's how… I'll never be rid of him otherwise… Even I did…" She whispered. "They'll always remind me. I'll have to… At the opera tonight… Yes…"
She slowly turned around again. She appeared to have had an epiphany. Moments before, she looked as though she'd had the weight of the world on her head- which she did. But now… Now she looked calm. At peace. Happy.
"I know how to do it." Mag said, pacing over to him with small, measured steps. He nodded.
"What, exactly?"
"I found a loophole. There is one way I can stop the Repoman from taking my eyes." Severus, at that moment, felt him stomach wrench ominously. Somehow, subconsciously, he'd worked out exactly what she meant to do, and by God, it was horrible. But his mind seemed to be blocking it out, refusing to process it.
"And that loophole would be…?" Mag shook her head. She looked almost dazed.
"You'll see tonight. I'll sing my last song, and then we… We can… If you still want to-" He glared at her.
"If I still want to?"
Mag smiled. She stepped forward and embraced him, pressing her face into his shoulder and shivering. She shut her eyes and reveled in the darkness.
"I'm going to the graveyard. I need to- I need to visit Marni." She muttered distractedly, going for the boots she'd removed less than two minutes before. "You'll be at the show?"
"Naturally."
She stood again and moved for the door, flinging it open and moving to step out, only to stop. Mag hesitated, turned around, and looked back. "Severus?" He gazed back at her unflinchingly.
"Yes?"
That look in her eyes. She wasn't going to say it, was she?
"I…" She gave a weak smile. "I love you."
Damn. She'd said it.
He was silent for a moment, mouth twitching in an effort to form words. She might have been testing him, might have been trying to gauge if he had the fortitude to say it back to her and mean it. He would mean it, oh yes, but getting the actual word, one he never used, out there was the only issue.
But there was a reason that Severus was attracted to Mag; many in fact. One rather important one being that she understood him and his nature and his tendency for hissing and spitting at emotions like an angry cat at a dog.
Mag smiled. "It's all right. You don't have to say it back."
And she left.
...
Okay, so…
I dropped the ball.
When I planned this out, I wanted Mag to be within the same age group as Severus. So I made her a year younger than him.
My plan was to have the story progress normally as far as the events in Repo! went, but then something occurred to me:
In Repo! Mag was 39 or 40 (And in my honest opinion, she looked more like a 25). Minus seventeen years, Marni died when Mag was 22 or 23. (Marni, on that note, was six years older than Mag).
… In short, this means that Shilo would not be seventeen in this story. No easy way of working that out (Mag would have to have been thirteen when Shilo was born for this to work out right).
In short, I reduced everyone's ages by about seven to nine years. In the first two chapters, Mag was 29. In this new section, she's 30. Shilo is 10 in this (People, we're combining Repo! with a story where an eleven year-old practically saves the world. We'll live with this age change). Amber is 20, Pavi is about 23, and Luigi's about 25.
AND YES: I COULD NOT RESIST PUTTING 'ZYDRATE ANATOMY' IN. LOVE THAT SONG. I tried not to make it so cheesy, but I couldn't resist staying true to most of the lyrics.
