A/N: Merry/ Happy Christmas to you all! I'm submitting this chapter early for the holiday. I hope this update finds you happy and healthy. 2020 has been a hard year, for sure! But one of my highlights from this year has been the inspiration for this story and the ability to write it so clearly and easily over these past six months. I pray that my muse, Dorcas, gives me plenty more to work with in 2021. If you're finding yourself entertained by my efforts, please review. I love hearing from you!

Chapter 34

22 November, 1958 Fields Department Store, Hendon

Dorcas Disapparated with a pop into a narrow alleyway adjacent to the address clutched between her fingers.

She glanced down at the paper and walked the few paces to the main street.

To her left she saw some small shops and cafes. To her right was much the same.

The address said Number 43 Highbury Court Circle.

There was a Number 41 and a Number 45 on this side of the street.

She supposed she had been distracted while Apparating. Maybe she'd not had enough deliberation. Or was it determination? Either way, she may have bungled the destination.

She turned and studied the street sign.

Highbury Court Circle.

This was the place.

Dorcas's blind rage had abated, which was fortunate. She wanted to be calm and rational about this matter, she did not want to fly into a dangerous situation like a madwoman. There would be plenty of time for ranting and lunacy once she was safely locked inside her prison cell.

She walked up to the brick facade between the women's shoe store at Number 41 and the French bakery at Number 45. She prodded the bricks, scanned the levels above her. There must be some hidden entrance.

She stamped her foot. She had not come this far only to be thwarted by some Disillusionment parlor trick.

It was the action of stamping her foot that caused the pavement to shudder beneath her. She removed the offending foot and saw a symbol etched in the cement. It looked like initials on a cursory glance, but as she bent to study it she recognized it as a rune. The rune for the number three to be exact.

Tapping the rune twice more made the pavement buzz through the soles of her shoes. Then the section of the sidewalk she was standing on began to lower.

When the street-pavement-lift ceased its movement, she seemed to exit into a derelict, but once posh department store. The chipped gold lettering on the door declared it to be the Fields Department Store. Dorcas had never heard of it.

It appeared to be long-abandoned and the signs–and smells–of squatters were everywhere.

Several mannequins stood sentry over the dusty and bare shelves.

It was quiet.

"Homenum Revelio," Dorcas whispered. On her level, there were no faint glowing forms, three levels up revealed about twenty.

If Dorcas was expecting to break in on Muybridge huddled alone in a flat by himself, she would be disappointed.

She shrugged. It would be all the more satisfying if she had to cut through a gang of fellow criminals in order to reach her quarry.

The quiet erupted nearly the moment she'd revealed the gathering a few floors above her.

Dorcas had an unsettling thought: what if she was not the only pursuer that had successfully located Muybridge tonight?

She knew that he'd become a priority for the DMLE since his criminal jacket had been updated to include her poisoning and her son's death. It was hard to say what other crimes Muybridge had to answer for and to whom.

As if to confirm other players on the board, Dorcas could make out the distinctive sounds of spells crashing into walls. The commotion continued and Dorcas looked for the stairs, eager to stake her claim to the killer.

Maybe if Aurors had shown up, they could prove a useful distraction.

She dashed up the rubbish-strewn stairs less cautiously than she should have. On the second landing, she tripped on an overturned crate. Someone ahead of her on the stairs hurled a curse at her, nearly landing a blow. It shattered an ornate finial statue in the shape of a Greek muse just past her head.

Casting a tentacle of her consciousness out, she searched the void for the identity of her attacker. He had her pinned down against the second floor newel post, sending curse after curse in her direction.

It wasn't Muybridge or anyone else she recognized, for that matter. But she did gain a lot more context about the current situation from the unknown assailant's mind.

She sent a jinx wildly over the bannister, not wanting to stand and turn in order to aim properly. But she also had to keep her adversary from rushing down the stairs after her.

It seemed that Muybridge had collected about a dozen miscreants like himself; wizards with a tenuous connection to the moral right and had established a bit of a cabal. They were dedicated to a host of Muggle-baiting and petty criminal enterprises. Muybridge was at the center of the ring, the most daring of the lawbreakers. The only one who had committed murder among the group, though the others aspired to his daring.

Another hex glanced off the bannister against her back, splintering it.

She needed to move from this spot.

It seemed that the Aurors were driving them down the stairs and directly into her path.

She wondered how many exits this store had on the ground level.

Firing three consecutive spells over her shoulder, she made a mad dash back down the stairs and ducked behind a wooden and glass display case, one that may have once held jewelry or cosmetics.

Studying the man's mind once more from the safety of her hiding spot, she confirmed that Stephen Muybridge was indeed among their number in this building tonight. The attack had ensued just moments before she'd arrived on the pavement outside of the disguised department store. They came from levels above the criminal gang. Dorcas assumed they'd Apparated directly onto the roof and came in through the roof access.

She wanted to know how many Aurors were up there right now, but her attacker didn't seem to know that answer.

Dorcas was so distracted sifting through his mind for intelligence on the situation upstairs that she didn't realize that he was heading for the same hiding spot where she now crouched. She had only the smallest of advantages in that she still held her wand in front of her.

When he rounded the display case and crouched, it was clear that he hadn't expected his defensive position to already be filled with an adversary. He lifted his wand, but in the seconds that he took to complete the motion, Dorcas had already shouted, "Stupefy!" at the surprised man.

He fell to the floor with a dusty thud.

Placing him in a Full Body Bind she was now able to explore his mind more fully.

She found a recent scene in his consciousness. It was the moment that Aurors had descended on their hideout. Muybridge and his gang were planning something in the Underground for the morning Muggle commute when the roof access burst open and spells began flying.

Dorcas tried to keep her eyes on the memory-Muybridge to see which direction he'd gone. It was difficult considering that a group of Aurors burst in on those assembled, jinxes ricocheting off of walls and shattering fixtures. The goon whose memory she was spying on ducked and she lost sight of Muybridge.

When the goon hopped up from behind the cover of shelving to fire another hex, she took the opportunity to scan the chaos for her prize once more.

Muybridge was running and firing red sparks from his wand at an Auror as he sprinted toward a service corridor.

Dorcas paused, momentarily surfacing from the memory. Where would the service corridor come out? Would he head to street level? Or would he try to go to the roof and Apparate?

The roof would surely have a rear guard of Aurors posted there. The street may not be completely blocked off yet.

If she were Muybridge, she would head for the street.

Listening for any sounds that would alert her to more of Muybridge's gang or Aurors, Dorcas tentatively rose when all on the ground level was silent. She scanned the distant walls and door signs, looking for anything that would signal an employees only exit or stockroom.

She found what she was seeking in the corner of the men's wear department. A door with faded gold lettering. EMPLOYEES ONLY announced a behind the scenes passage that allowed workers and stock to pass from one department to another without disturbing the shoppers.

A hex flew down the stairs, shattering a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the first floor landing. Dorcas knew that if she didn't move, she would be pinned down once again by jinxes and hexes. What's more, the Aurors would not distinguish her from Muybridge's henchmen. She didn't have a good reason for being there to provide them if they asked, either.

Popping up lightly, Dorcas left the stunned and bound attacker behind the jewelry case, stepping over him and darting for the men's wear section and the back-of-house corridor.

She heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and crunching through the broken shards of mirror. Not daring to look back, Dorcas pushed through the employee entrance door.

The passageway beyond was a labyrinth dividing off in many different directions. Dorcas felt a frustrating sense of hopelessness. Muybridge had probably escaped already.

She slowed to cast the Homenum Revelio spell once more. There were no less than eight glowing forms in the corridors with her. Sinking into a darkened corner, Dorcas concentrated on reaching for the consciousness of anyone in proximity.

This time, she found who she sought. Stephen Muybridge was here. As she scanned through the images in her mind, she felt her blood chill. His reaction on the third floor to the arrival of the Aurors had been to Imperio his acolytes. The Aurors were all fighting for their lives, outnumbered, while Muybridge made his escape.

But there was one thing Muybridge didn't count on.

He didn't count on her.

He also didn't know of her ability to track him with her mind.

He'd done her a favor by tying up the Aurors with his cronies. It would give her a wide open shot at him. And she would take it.

Flipping through his memories like a deck of cards, she was looking for clues that would reveal his location.

She returned to the scene when the Aurors had descended on the group. Muybridge made eye contact with Fabian Prewett first. Two of his accomplices were set on the Auror immediately.

Dorcas was mildly worried about Fabian's chances against the two. But, she reasoned, he was an experienced crimefighter. He'd probably faced worse and come out alright.

"Muybridge!" a familiar voice caught Dorcas's attention.

She willed the memory-Muybridge to look at the speaker, to confirm what she knew and feared to be true. Her husband was here in this condemned department store. Muybridge did look in his direction. She felt the unexpected glee that Muybidge felt at recognizing Cal. She heard his thoughts: It would be a pleasant bonus to take her husband away from her, to cause her to suffer more. Dorcas Meadowes deserved to suffer in all imaginable ways. She'd lost him the one woman he loved. She'd revealed to Theresa the murder of her husband Jim Allen. She made Theresa aware that he had killed her husband. Dorcas was the reason he was on the run now.

"And I'm the reason you'll die," Dorcas growled to herself, pushing away from the wall and plunging into the darkness of the corridor.

She kept a tight rein on Muybridge's thoughts. Following them like a beacon.

She searched his mind for intelligence on her husband. Had he been pinned down by Muybridge's Imperiused men? Another startling thought came unbidden to her mind: he could be dead already.

Dismissing that thought out of hand, she hurried on. She would know if Cal had been killed. She was sure she would feel the change, feel the connection she shared with him sever. But the thought disturbed her anyway. It was curious to her now, thinking back on just a matter of minutes before when the thought of Cal with another woman had unraveled her. Now she found herself wishing that he was safe now in another woman's arms.

It was all about perspective.

Dorcas's foot caught on something heavy and she tumbled forward, sprawling on the cold tiled floor ahead of her. She risked lighting the end of her wand to see what had impeded her progress.

It was a body.

Scurrying to the fallen man, she felt for a pulse under his meaty chin. There was none.

She studied his clothes for a moment longer and decided that he was not DMLE and chose not to waste another moment on him. If he was one of Muybridge's men then it was good that he was dead. One less madman to threaten her or Cal.

Her thoughts returned to Cal as she pushed herself back to her feet and doused her light.

Why was he here? The answer was plain: the same reason she was here.

She wondered why her mind had automatically lept to an affair when he didn't come home all of those nights. Why had she assumed that he would cheat on her and not assumed that he would be out looking for their son's murderer?

She knew instinctively why she hadn't assumed he would go after Muybridge. Her husband had an unfailing sense of right and wrong. She never thought of Cal as struggling to decide what the moral course was.

Whereas she lived her life in a moral gray area all of the time, it seemed. She wanted to do right. She'd been taught to do right.

But sometimes, right wasn't always clear.

She thought about all of the times with Tom that she'd justified doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. Helping him to make a Horcrux was wrong. But it was right to want to help him evade death.

Thinking of Tom made a knot form in her throat. The way his hands felt on her body. His lips on hers. If he hadn't pulled away from her, she wondered if she would have ended it.

And she'd been thinking of Cal as the adulterer!

If he ever found out about that little tryst in their dining room, she knew it would be the end of their marriage. Cal had spent too many of their newlywed years putting up with a third person in their marriage. She'd given him no choice. And he'd given his heart to her over and over again when she'd had none to give to him.

How could she repay him in this way?

Maybe if she'd kissed any other man, Cal could forgive her. But not Tom.

She decided then and there that she would never tell him. And if Tom ever barged into her life again, she'd swear him to secrecy on the subject as well. She'd force him to make an Unbreakable Vow if necessary.

Put out one fire at a time, Dorcas.

She reached out for Muybridge's consciousness once more.

Her wandering mind had made her less aware of her surroundings and she jumped when she confronted three shapes in the dark as she rounded the corner. Her wand was ready, but the figures didn't react.

Lighting the space ahead of her, she cursed and let out a tense breath as she realized the figures were just a group of naked mannequins, sheltering in an empty doorway.

A hex glanced off of the door's frame from behind her and she ducked.

Dorcas could see the green and red sparks coming from the corner of the corridor that she'd just vacated. She assumed that these were the men that had come down the main stairs behind her onto the ground floor.

Their hexes were unrelenting and Dorcas found herself pinned against the doorway again.

The head of the mannequin next to her exploded in a spay of moulded plaster. She felt the jagged edges graze her cheek. She had two options–neither one good.

She could run all out as fast as she could down the corridor and put distance between them, or she could put the door that she was cowering against between them.

The first option would leave her back vulnerable to the hexes of Muybridge's two thugs. The second would only buy her a little time until the two jinxed the door off its hinges.

She searched for a third option as she fired off one incantation after another.

She needed to distract the two.

One of the mannequins fell across her lap as she hunched as far out of the corridor as she could.

That was it!

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she whispered.

The three mannequins righted themselves and hovered just in front of her forming a shield.

She stood and took flight down the opposite end of the corridor as the mannequins hovered just off of the floor and charged at the two men.

They'd mistaken them for Aurors as she hoped they would, allowing her the opportunity to hurry around the next corner.

She didn't stop until she'd run into something solid in her path.

"Christ!" she screamed as the large impediment turned to face her.

"Dorcas?" came Cal's shocked voice.

Rather than feeling the fear drain out of her, it was heightened. She was resigned to the fact that the only way she would make it out of here alive was in Admonitor Cuffs. But having Cal here changed things. He raised the stakes. She would be prone to defending him rather than going on the offensive with Muybridge.

Perhaps Cal felt the same way.

Gideon Prewett jogged down the stairs the same way Cal had just come.

"Dr. Meadowes?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I expect," Dorcas said. "Don't stop! There are two of them right behind me."

"In here," Gideon said, pointing his wand at the lock on a stockroom door.

They filed inside as Gideon locked the door.

Dorcas cast a Disillusionment Charm on the door to disguise it as part of the wall.

Cal muffled the sounds of their voices.

"You need to get out of here," he said, rounding on her and grabbing her by the shoulders. "We'll distract the two in the corridor and get you past the line of Aurors. It's not safe for you. You shouldn't be here."

"Not safe for me?" Dorcas snorted derisively. "Cal, I'm not going anywhere."

Cal gritted his teeth and stared at her. Dorcas stared back defiantly. She wasn't the kind of wife that would meekly do her husband's bidding. She thought Cal knew that after thirteen years of marriage.

"How did you know Muybridge would be here?" Gideon asked, cutting through the tense stares.

Dorcas broke eye contact with Cal and looked at Gideon. "I have my sources."

Cal snorted and released her. "I'll kill him for bringing you here."

"He didn't bring me here. I'm perfectly capable of Apparating all on my own."

Dorcas was becoming extremely irritated at the overbearing attitude she was receiving from Cal. She was realizing how he saw her: as fragile and in need of protection. Hadn't they always been partners? She knew he had her back, but was now coming to understand that he didn't believe that she had his. He saw her as a liability.

"Who is your source?" Gideon asked, confusion painting his features. "Who are you going to kill?" he asked Cal.

"Tom Riddle," Cal answered flatly.

"He's back," Gideon said to himself.

"Where's Muybridge?" Dorcas asked, ignoring Gideon.

"We've been tracking him this direction, but lost him on the stairs. He's got men everywhere, it's hard to keep up with him."

Dorcas nodded. "He's Imperiused them. Their one mission is to kill Aurors."

"Shit!" Gideon replied with awe.

"We thought he came this way. What can you hear?" Cal asked, placing a hand on her shoulder, more gently this time.

Dorcas cast another tentacle of consciousness out and touched the closest mind. It was one of the two that had been chasing her. She noticed that he and his partner had traversed the corridor and came out into the ground floor shopping area once more. She moved on.

There were three other minds that she detected around her. They weren't her target.

"He's not around here. But the two that were chasing me are gone."

"Then now's our chance," Cal said, taking Dorcas's hand and unlocking the door.

As they slipped out into the dark corridor once again, Gideon asked, "Is someone going to explain what just happened?"

"Later," Cal answered.

Dorcas was examining the mind of one of the three in her proximity.

Just above her on the stairs was one more of Muybridge's gang. She saw a flash in his mind. Not a memory, a vision of what the man saw in this very moment. Stephen Muybridge stopped to ask the man a question.

"Where are the healer and the solicitor?"

To this the other man answered by pointing down the stairs. The stairs that they were currently heading toward.

She tugged on Cal's hand and pointed up with her wand.

Gideon paused behind her.

"Split up," Cal whispered.

Gideon and Dorcas nodded.

Dorcas watched Gideon retrace their steps to the stockroom they'd just vacated. She went to move away from Cal and take up another defensive position, but he held her hand firm.

She met his eyes and he shook his head. He wouldn't let her leave him.

They crouched below the stairs as they heard two pairs of footsteps traveling slowly down them.

"Meadowes? Prewett?" she heard Muybridge call out. "Are you boys down here?"

She listened to his thoughts. He wanted to bait them into doing something reckless. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill Cal to deal her another blow in retribution for uncovering his guilt and he wanted to kill Gideon for taking Theresa away from him.

But he didn't know that she was there. And he didn't know that she was looking for retribution as well.

She heard his prowling steps on the metal stairs above her and Cal.

"I wish I could have seen it. Your nosy bitch wife laying on the ground in her office. I was told it was quite a spectacular sight. Did you find her like that? Did you think she was dead? I confess that's what I had hoped would happen. But I think it's better this way. I think it's better that she lives with her consequences. Don't you?"

She felt Cal stiffen beside her. She placed a hand on his arm and projected a wave of calm outward to him. It was difficult because her blood was boiling as she listened to his words as well.

"Prewett? Are you here because you want to be a hero? D'you want to kill me? Here's your chance. But that feeling won't go away no matter what you do. That feeling you get every time you fuck your wife, that knawing feeling that she's thinking about me instead."

Dorcas could see the heels of Muybridge and the other man between the slats of the metal stairs as they descended.

She made eye contact with Cal and they nodded in silent agreement with one another. Aiming their wands, they stood and crept closer to the stairs, waiting until they could reach the backs of their opponents.

Dorcas reached for the mind of Muybridge as she took aim at the backs of his knees, Cal beside her took aim at his lackey. But there was something off about his mind when she entered it.

"Stupefy!" Cal shouted. Dorcas had no choice but to follow before their position was given away. She stunned the man who was not Muybridge.

Gideon emerged from his hiding spot a moment later as more of Muybridge's men converged on the corridor.

"Cal, that wasn't Muybridge," Dorcas called as sparks began to fly, many glancing off of the stairs they stood behind.

By Dorcas's estimation there were about seven attackers cornering them in this stairwell. Gideon was forced to fall back into the stockroom once again by two opponents.

"Dorcas, I'll clear a path for you. You have to run," Cal said between incantations that he fired off at three opponents.

Dorcas took her eyes off of her own two attackers to briefly glance at her husband.

"Cal, no. I won't leave you," Dorcas argued.

"Our girls, Dorcas. They can't lose both parents," he explained. Ducking, he fired another spell in answer.

"Then you go! Muybridge is still around here. He doesn't know I'm here and he doesn't know what I can do. I can get to him. I know I can. I have to!"

"I'm not leaving you, Dorcas! I can't." Cal's voice was hard and final.

Then it was decided. If they died tonight, it would be together.

Dorcas's two opponents seemed to turn and retreat in that moment. She reached forward with her mind in order to see what had drawn them away.

She saw Fabian Prewett and two other Aurors in the attackers' minds. Good. They were not completely abandoned here.

But she was also aware of the real Muybridge's thoughts. He was close, watching but not engaging. She had the strongest urge to tear through the line of attackers and race after him. Her desire to watch the light leave his eyes was all-consuming.

"Dorcas," Cal called over his shoulder as he fought two attackers still, one having fallen in the space in front of the stairs. "Get word to Cherry. She and Jonas will have custody of the girls if we don't make it out of here."

Dorcas nodded mutely. She wondered why she hadn't thought of that. There was no immediate family. She didn't want her girls spending even one night in the custody of the Ministry. She wanted Jonas and Cherry to have proof of guardianship if the worst happened.

"Expecto Patronum!" she called, summoning the little silvery nightingale from her wand. "Cherry, I don't have time to explain, but I want you to use this spell as testament that Cal and I want you and Jonas to have custody of Ryann and Wren if anything should happen to us. We love you both. Give our love to our girls."

As she watched the little bird dodge spells and disappear down the corridor, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. Sending that last will and testament to her best friend made this more real than it had seemed only moments ago.

If she and Cal had to orphan their girls, it had better be for a good reason, she thought. Squaring her shoulders, she cast about again for Muybridge's mind, finding it easily because he was very near.

He'd used Polyjuice Potion to send a decoy down after them. She should have investigated the fake Muybridge's mind more thoroughly before stunning him. They'd given their position away for nothing.

But he didn't know that she was aware of his trick. Her ability was the one trump card they still held.

Cal was bleeding from a gash above his right eyebrow, but otherwise was unhurt. She had no idea where Gideon was. She'd never seen him emerge from the stockroom, he or the two goons that had driven him in there.

Her husband was holding off two attackers to her right as they took cover behind a stack of crates. Fabian had diverted the two that she'd been fighting and Gideon was either fighting two more, or was dead.

She cast about for any other henchmen. There were none lurking nearby. Just Muybridge at the top of the stairs that she and Cal took shelter beneath.

If she could get to the floor above she could come around behind him and take him unawares.

"Cal, he's up there. I can hear him," Dorcas said.

"Confringo. On three," Cal said, blocking a hex from one of the attackers behind the crates.

She waited for Cal's signal and cast her spell with a roar. "CONFRINGO!"

Her spell combined with Cal's produced a tremendous explosion, splintering the crates and knocking the two men sheltering behind them into the stone walls. Dorcas cast about for their consciousness. When she was satisfied that they were out cold, she nodded to Cal.

"You head him off," explained Cal. He took her hand and kissed it. "I was wrong to say you shouldn't be here. In fact, there's no one I'd rather be in the trenches with than you."

Dorcas's heart swelled at the magnitude of the confession. She felt the same way. It was all she ever wanted from him. Not a champion, not a hero, not a savior. She wanted a partner. She wanted someone who depended on her and on whom she could depend.

He let her hand go and stood. She stood too, grabbing his sleeve. "Where are you going?"

"I need to see if Gideon's okay. You go after Muybridge. We'll catch you up."

She nodded, bolstered by his confidence in her.

"Cal," she called, covering the few paces he'd put between them. "I love you!"

Aware that it wasn't the time or the place, she rested her palms on each of his cheeks, winding her fingers through his hair and pulling him down so that his lips met hers, she communicated everything she couldn't say in one quick but passionate kiss.

"I love you too," he said before sprinting down the hall to check on Gideon.

She disappeared behind the door that her adversaries and Fabian Prewett had disappeared behind only moments before. But now the corridor was silent. She needed to find another set of stairs to the second floor.

To her right was a door labeled SALES FLOOR GROUND LEVEL.

Pushing the door open, Dorcas could see the carnage ahead of her. The Aurors had driven most of the goons from the higher levels down to the street level where a fierce fight ensued. Several of Muybridge's henchmen lay motionless on the ground. One Auror lay dead at the base of the grand staircase she'd fled down earlier that night. She didn't recognize him.

Climbing the stairs slowly and carefully, Dorcas picked her way around the shattered pieces of the mirror laying all over the steps. Another body was sprawled and lifeless at the top of the first flight.

She extended her mind out once more to find Stephen Muybridge.

They were on the second level very near one another. He was unaware that she was here, let alone prowling the shelves only a few yards away. She saw in his mind what he was occupied with. He was enjoying watching a decoy Muybridge dueling Fabian Prewett.

Prewett was negotiating with the Polyjuiced Muybridge, telling him to turn himself in. He was giving an assessment of the situation: his henchmen were dead, the building was surrounded as well as warded against Apparition.

The real Muybridge watched on with glee, wondering which moment would be the most dramatic for revealing himself. He relished the look that would appear on Auror Prewett's face when he realized he'd been tricked and was outnumbered.

The same look, Dorcas surmised, that will appear on your face when I step out of the shadows.

The decoy held a silver tea tray like a knight's shield in his non-dominant hand. He fired hex after hex at Prewett. The capable Auror deflected every one.

"I can't offer you the chance to walk free, Muybridge. You've murdered twice. However, if you lay down your wand now, I can recommend prison rather than the Dementor's Kiss."

"No deal," the decoy replied, hexing Prewett again.

The Auror dodged and sent a Stunning Spell in answer.

It was parried.

That was the problem with Aurors. They were unwilling to use the really nasty spells. Every bad guy expected a Stunning Spell.

She crept down one row of shelves. Muybridge was behind a rack of dusty overcoats just ahead of her. Raising her wand as she carefully planted one heel, rolled forward onto the ball of her foot and stepping forward with her other foot, she advanced slowly without a sound.

He stiffened when he felt the tip of her wand against the back of his neck.

She wondered how she would feel when she finally had a wand pointed at him. Would she lose her nerve? Would she back down?

Dorcas felt eerily calm and powerful with his life in her hands.

With the slightest bit of pressure she urged him forward out of his hiding spot.

Muybridge's henchman reacted first when he saw his boss being held at wand point.

Fabian was surprised too, but collected his wits much faster.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Prewett cried.

The stunned decoy just barely raised his tea tray shield in time to deflect the spell.

It ricocheted and hit Fabian instead. He collapsed woodenly like a plank to the ground.

The decoy Muybridge looked uncertain.

"Boss," he said. "What do you want me to do with her?"

"Her?" Muybridge asked, delighted. "Why Dr. Meadowes, is that you?"

"Drop your wand to the floor," Dorcas said over Muybridge's shoulder to his decoy.

He looked to Muybridge for direction.

"Do as she says," the real Muybridge commanded.

The moment the wand hit the floor Dorcas stunned the man and watched him crumple to the ground next to the Auror.

"That was rather heartless, stunning a man who was defenseless," Muybridge said, stepping away from Dorcas and leveling his wand at her.

"You would know heartless, I guess," retorted Dorcas, wand fixed between Muybridge's eyes.

Muybridge smiled. "Still sore about the baby, then?"

"Yes, but your death will help me to move past it," Dorcas replied.

"Dorcas, no!"

Cal's voice cut through her determination and caused her to hesitate.

He'd managed to help Gideon, who was just now entering the room from a service door behind Muybridge.

Three wands pointed at Muybridge, who pointed his at Dorcas.

"You can't kill him, Dorcas," Gideon urged. "Think about it. You'll be convicted of murder. You'll go to Azkaban."

"It's a small price to pay," Dorcas said through gritted teeth as she narrowed her eyes and flipped through the possible spells she would use, the pain she would inflict.

"You would throw your life away, Dorcas? Our life?" Cal asked, the hurt in his voice was obvious.

If Muybridge sensed the slightest bit of hesitation in her, he would strike. She was in his mind. She knew he was looking for a weakness to exploit.

"It has to be this way, Cal. I'm the one that left us vulnerable to him. I'm the reason he killed our son. I have to do this. I have to do it for Ben," she explained.

But she lowered her wand. The movement was nearly imperceptible. But she noticed it. And Muybridge noticed it.

"FUMOS DUO!" Muybridge shouted.

A great cloud of gray fog erupted from the end of Muybridge's wand. Dorcas instinctively dropped to her knees when she could not get a clear shot at her quarry.

She could barely make out a flash from an incantation, but the spell was whispered. Someone dropped heavily to the ground in front of her. There was a horrible gurgling sound and thrashing of limbs.

"Stupefy!"

Dorcas heard Cal stun someone.

"Ventus!" Dorcas said, pointing her wand at the dense fog. A powerful gust of wind surged from the tip of her wand, dissipating the fog.

Muybridge was stunned. Gideon lay grasping his throat as blood gushed from a wound there. Another pool of blood was forming under his right thigh.

Cal rushed toward Gideon, his fingers pressing on the open artery in Gideon's neck.

Dorcas registered the dire emergency of the situation, but couldn't make her limbs react.

Muybridge was stunned at her feet. Prone. Helpless.

But she didn't feel the way she expected to feel. She'd seen this very scene play over and over again in her mind. She dreamt of the sensation of his blood on her hands. Fantasized about the way his eyes would stare at her one moment and then at nothing the instant she took his life.

"Dorcas!" Cal shouted her name. "Dorcas, do it or don't do it. I can't stop you. But I need your help or else Gideon will die."

Dorcas couldn't make herself look away from Stephen Muybridge's wide staring eyes.

"DORCAS!" Cal frantically worked to save Gideon's life.

She was caught between what she wanted to do and what was right. Would she forever regret seizing the moment and taking Muybridge's life but wasting the opportunity to save Theresa's husband? Would she curse her decision to abandon revenge to save a friend?

"Dorcas, I need you now!" Cal said.

The words broke the spell in her own mind. The trance was shattered and she looked to her right.

So much blood was pooled beneath Gideon that he could very well have slipped away already.

Dorcas wasn't a killer. Dorcas was a healer.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

She cast the Full Body Bind on Muybridge. He would be leaving tonight with his life. But he would never again have his liberty. And Dorcas found that it was a fair bargain to be struck.

"I'm here, Cal," she said, kneeling beside Gideon, pressing her fingers into the wound at his thigh until she found the artery and stemmed the flow of blood.

:::

23 November, 1958 Watermead, Aylesbury

Dorcas was bone weary, but her soul felt renewed.

The decision to walk away and leave Muybridge alive to face justice had buttressed her faith in her own good impulses to master the bad.

She followed Cal down the hall and into the bedroom.

Her cast off pink nightgown and robe were in a heap on the floor where she'd left them. Her bag, half packed and ready for her departure from their marriage lay like a rebuke on the counterpane of their bed.

She flicked on the bathroom light and grabbed a cloth from the towel rack, wetting it. Her hands were still caked with Gideon's blood. She scrubbed them clean.

Cal sat heavily on the ledge of the bathtub and removed his glasses, swiping a hand across his face.

They'd spent about an hour at St. Mungo's following the showdown in Field's Department Store. It had been an uncertain time for Gideon. Dorcas carried some of the blame there. If she'd acted as soon as Cal had, he would have lost less blood.

Gideon would live. Theresa was with him now.

She brought the cloth up to Cal's slashed eyebrow. He winced.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, scanning the front of her jumper that was splashed with blood.

"No, it's Gideon's," Dorcas replied.

Cal exhaled audibly and his shoulders slumped.

As Dorcas attended to his face, his hands traced her thighs and her backside.

He looked up at her as she sponged the dried blood from his forehead. She held his gaze.

It was the most intimate gaze she'd ever shared with him. Communicating an intense need that she also felt.

His hands slipped up to her waist and under her jumper. She felt the muscles in her stomach clench and spasm in reaction to his touch. His thumbs grazed the curve of each breast and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

At that moment, she was reminded how quickly she had thrown her clothes on and rushed out of the house without undergarments. Would he be surprised that she wasn't wearing any knickers either?

She blushed and smiled in response.

Cal pulled the jumper over her head and cast it to the floor.

Taking his cue, she threw the blood-covered cloth over her shoulder and unbuttoned his shirt as his hands explored her as if he were touching her for the first time. A sigh escaped her throat. Cal kissed her in answer.

His hands were busy removing her trousers as she worked to release him from his.

They stumbled out of the bathroom and to the bed, somehow managing to shed their clothes.

She wondered at the strength of Cal's grip on her waist, or the way her muscles spasmed at his touch. There had been so much uncertainty and rejection between them lately that it must be manifesting itself in this desperate desire that she felt so intensely for him.

Cal lowered her gently to the bed and she was aware of a deep longing coiling warmly low in her belly. She wanted him, perhaps more than she ever had.

He glanced at the bag she'd begun to pack last evening.

Her eyes caught the incriminating evidence as well. Her frenzied argument with herself earlier in the night seemed a lifetime ago now. That deep delicious longing began to travel higher until it settled in her throat like panic.

"Were you planning to go somewhere?" Cal asked, moving the bag to the floor.

Dorcas felt her cheeks flame and threw her hands over her face to cover her shame. Voicing her suspicions about where she believed Cal was going when he didn't come home sounded ridiculous to her now.

She felt the mattress shift as Cal lay down beside her and tugged at her wrist.

"What aren't you telling me, Dorcas?" he asked softly.

He pulled her hands away from her face and placed a finger under her chin, turning it gently in his direction.

Dorcas couldn't look at him and confess what she'd suspected so she threw an arm around him and rested her head on his chest.

"I was going to leave you tonight, Cal."

"Leave me?" he replied, stroking her hair. "You mean you wanted to walk out on our marriage?" His voice was calm, but she could hear the effort behind it.

She nodded against his chest. "When you didn't come home last night, I thought you were with someone else. So I packed a bag and decided to leave."

"With someone else?" Cal responded, alarmed. He grasped her shoulder a little roughly and pushed her back into the mattress, hovering over her so that she had no choice but to face him. "Dorcas, there's never been anyone else. There never will be."

"I thought that you didn't want me anymore."

"Dorcas, I'll never stop wanting you. And I'll never leave you."

She felt hot tears fall from the corners of her eyes and disappear into her hair.

"I will never throw away your love. Earning it has been the greatest achievement of my life," he said, kissing her left temple, then her right, drying her tears.

She wrapped her arms around him, finally reassured by his words. Kissing his lips in the same way she had when they'd left each other in the department store, she tried to convey every ounce of love she had for him.

The panicked feeling that knotted her throat was placated by his reassurances and settled in her belly once more as a pulsating desire for him.

A groan escaped Cal's throat as Dorcas deepened the kiss.

"I love you so much, my darling," he sighed against her lips.

She wrapped her legs around him. "Show me how much, my love."

:::

Dorcas lay on her stomach feeling deliciously boneless, languid, and finally at peace. Her skin responded in a delightfully electrified way when Cal traced a finger down her spine, rousing her slowly from her slumber.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Dorcas Meadowes," Cal murmured as he studied her curves.

She smiled in response, but didn't speak, fearing she would break the spell of this incandescent moment if she did.

"Would you really have left me?" he asked finally, a little vulnerability creeping into his voice.

She thought about it seriously. She honestly didn't know what she would have done. It felt like a long time ago now, even though she'd packed that bag less than twelve hours ago. So much had changed. For one thing, Cal's illicit affair had been just her imaginings.

Dorcas turned onto her side to face him and pulled the sheet up to her chest.

His hand settled on her hip.

"Maybe," she replied honestly. "But only because I thought you'd left me already."

Cal propped his head in one hand and fixed her with a confused stare. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "You were never home. I even went to the hospital once to surprise you and Sheldon said you'd already gone home for the day. But you weren't at home. He said you left work early every day to come home to be with me."

Cal closed his eyes and nodded. "You thought it was my excuse to sneak away to see another woman?"

Dorcas shrugged again. She knew that if she spoke it would break the dam and the hurt and betrayal she'd felt would come surging back.

"I was with Gideon. We trailed Muybridge for more than a month," Cal explained. "I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you. If I'd known what you were thinking I would have."

"What did you want to catch him for?"

"I suppose I didn't trust the DMLE to do it. They'd had more than a year to bring him in since you'd uncovered his guilt. They failed and we paid a heavy price for it."

"I thought you blamed me for…" She swallowed around the knot in her throat. "Blamed me for our son's death."

"Blame you? No, my love. I don't blame you," Cal said, his hand moving from her hip to her shoulder, his thumb rubbing an arc over her skin. "I blame myself. I could have insisted on tighter security at our home and the hospital after he broke into your office, but I didn't. I was too passive to protect you. You were so broken after the loss of our son, I was eaten with shame and guilt that I hadn't protected you both. And I ended up hurting you more."

He laid back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Forgive me, Dorcas. Please don't leave me," he whispered.

"I'll forgive you for leaving me alone so often. But you don't need forgiveness for anything else because it's not your fault," Dorcas said, leaning over to brush her lips against his.

Casting off the covers, Dorcas threw one leg over him and straddled him. Cal's hands were in her hair, capturing her so that she couldn't pull away from him. Not that she ever wanted to.

"I'll never leave you as long as you agree to one condition," she said as her fingers slid down his flank. The muscles there quivered beneath her touch.

He growled and closed his eyes as her fingers found him aroused and ready again. "Anything, my love."

"I'm not a little wife that needs protecting. I'm your partner in all things. I'm your equal," Dorcas replied, settling over him as his hands left her hair and grabbed her hips roughly.

"Agreed," Cal huffed, exhaling as he thrust into her.

"CAL AND DORCAS MEADOWES GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!" a loud voice called from the entrance of their home as the front door slammed shut.

Dorcas ceased her movements on top of her husband and froze.

"Shit! Cherry! I totally forgot!" she said, seeing her friend's alarm and rage clearly in her own mind.

"We probably scared her half to death with that Patronus last night," Cal agreed. Resigned to the premature end of their intimacy, he allowed Dorcas to crawl off of him and reach for her robe.

Dorcas beat Cal to the door and met Cherry in the living room. She cinched her robe around her waist as her friend threw her arms around her and gave her a tear-filled kiss on the cheek.

"Oh! I'm so glad you're not dead!" Cherry said. Her fiery red hair was sticking up in odd places and her cheek were splotchy from crying.

Dorcas smiled and led Cherry to the sofa. "No, we're not dead. But we were in a bit of a precarious spot last night and wanted to make sure our girls were taken care of."

"Of course I am honored that you thought of me, honey. And I can speak for Jonas. He'll be thrilled when I tell him. I think he would be offended if you'd chosen someone else, honestly."

"Hey, Cherry! Sorry about dropping that bomb on you so suddenly," Cal said, emerging from the hall with a shirt and pajama bottoms hastily thrown on. He was still tying the drawstring as he spoke.

Cherry studied Cal for a moment and then looked at Dorcas. "So what was the big emergency? Why didn't you think you'd live through the night?"

"Well," Dorcas hedged, wringing her hands as she decided how much Cherry should be told.

"Muybridge was captured last night. Dorcas and I were involved," Cal explained, settling on the couch next to Dorcas and taking her hand.

"Oh my God! The man who poisoned you?" Cherry's eyes were wide with intrigue.

Dorcas nodded.

"Well, I'm glad that madman is finally behind bars!" Cherry said with a firm nod.

"We are too," Dorcas said.

"But we wanted you to have proof of our wishes regarding our daughters just in case," Cal added.

Dorcas nodded. "We didn't want to run the risk that they could end up in the state's custody."

"Or worse, Gemma's custody," Cal replied.

The horrible thought hadn't occurred to Dorcas and she shuddered. "Don't even joke about that!"

"Well, she wouldn't take them anyway. Filthy half-blood mongrels that they are!" he argued.

"Hey, one more thing?" Cherry said, as if something had just come suddenly to mind.

"What?" Cal asked.

"Did I just interrupt we-almost-died-sex?" she asked with eyes narrowed on the both of them.

Dorcas laughed.

"Yes," Cal said with a grin.

"Well, good! Serves you two right! I was up half the night thinking my best friends were dead."

"Sorry, Cherry!" Dorcas responded.

"Well, carry on. I just wanted to see for myself that you were still in the land of the living and that I wasn't suddenly about to become a mother of two."

Dorcas laughed again, feeling her cheeks blaze. "I'll walk you out."

"Let's meet for lunch tomorrow, Dory," Cherry said, kissing Dorcas again as she left.

Dorcas leaned against the closed door and exhaled in relief. That could have gone so much worse.

"So, where were we?" Cal asked, peeling her robe off of her.

"In the middle of we-almost-died-sex, I think," Dorcas said, laughing as her husband lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the bedroom.

:::

Dorcas let Cal sleep.

Her mind kept traveling to the mess she'd left in the dining room and she couldn't put it out of her mind.

She threw on her robe and padded barefoot into the kitchen where she ran some water and began to clear Cal's (mostly) untouched birthday dinner from the table.

Winding her hair into a knot, she secured it with her wand and began to wash the pile of dishes.

Her mind wandered over many things as her hands took care of the mundane tasks of housekeeping. Mostly, she kept returning to Tom's curious visit last night.

She didn't look back on the visit fondly. She would be glad to never see him again. But it was the manner in which he stepped away from her when he knew he had her in a vulnerable space. His face had been buried in her cleavage for heaven's sake! And he stopped. Knowing full well that if he'd pressed her, he could have had all of her.

But he hadn't.

If she knew Tom–and she did–she knew that he would only retreat from an advantage if it served a greater purpose. But what purpose did it serve him to walk away from her last night?

She was glad that he did. She bore enough guilt over the kissing and the fondling. She was relieved that she didn't have to be guilty about an extramarital affair as well. Especially after having falsely accused Cal of having one.

As the scene replayed itself, she analyzed the memory as if it were one of her psychiatry cases. She watched him step away. She remembered adjusting her nightgown to cover herself once again as he reached for his coat that had fallen to the floor.

He handed her the address where she would later find Muybridge and his criminal crew.

She was startled by Cal's hands as they slipped around her waist, as he kissed her neck.

The steak knife she'd been washing slipped from her hand and sliced her palm.

Cal sprang into healer mode instantly, holding her hand under the running faucet and then closing the wound with his wand.

"Why don't you have a seat? I'll finish the washing up," Cal said, guiding her toward a chair at the table.

Cal smelled of soap. He'd just taken a shower, though Dorcas couldn't recall hearing the water running in the bathroom.

He poured her a cup of coffee and returned to the sink full of dishes.

She sipped from her steaming mug and returned to her memory analysis.

"Do you want me to come with you? He is a dangerous criminal," Tom had asked. He'd made it sound so patronizing, it rankled Dorcas.

She'd insisted he leave and let her pursue Muybridge on her own. He hadn't argued or insisted. He'd left.

Did he know her well enough not to argue? Or had he expected that exact response? Had he been planning on it?

If the answers to those questions were "yes" then the answer to her next question was also "yes".

Did Tom Riddle want her dead?