Petal in the Rain
Chapter 20 - Broken
The broken clock is a comfort
It helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow
From stealing all my time
And I am here still waiting
Though I still have my doubts
I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart
That's still beating
-Lifehouse
He awoke with a start, violently shaken from his faceless dream when a sliver of glaring sunlight crept through one of the covered windows. He opened one eye, then closed it again, unsure of whether or not he was actually awake. It was becoming hard to distinguish between reality and his dreams, for both places felt lifeless and bare...filled to the brim with slow-moving shadows and the quiet rumblings of melancholy.
He arose from his rigid armchair and crossed the room, yanking the mottled curtains closed. The dusty study—already disguised from any light—plunged into further darkness. He returned to his chair, satisfied the world no longer intruded upon his unconscious space, and curled back into its embrace. There were many more comfortable places he could inhabit, but he did not want to feel relaxed or restful; satisfying his physical needs would only allow his thoughts to drift to more cognitive matters—matters which inflicted more pain than any physical torture could provide.
Sleep did not come as he had hoped it would. He suddenly felt inexplicably annoyed to be awake, for his body ached with hunger pains he wasn't willing to placate—at least not yet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten, or how long he had been in the woodland manor—two days, perhaps?—but he hardly cared. All he wanted to do was drift back to his slumberland and ease the poisonous agony thumping against his chest.
I just want to forget.
Obliviating himself had crossed his mind, but he wasn't very good at charm work. He wondered if accidentally wiping his entire memory—a move which would render him a completely different person, though free him from his agony—would be such a bad thing, but begrudgingly decided against it. The thought of his best friend's reaction was too much to bear: he wasn't willing to abandon another person he loved.
Then he thought of her…of losing his memory of her. Would it really be easier to just forget, or would it be like losing her all over again? He knew he could never do it, for doing so would be letting go of her. The acidic sting in his stomach that accompanied her every memory made him want to keel over and vomit, but the thought of her going unremembered was even more sickening to him.
Who will remember her when I'm gone…?
He closed his eyes again, resisting the agony that began to swell within him by retreating to a lifeless little compartment in the back of his brain that allowed him some numbness. There he had taken refuge from the horrors of reality; there he would remain until he could no longer resist the temptation of food and water.
The stairway in the outside hallway creaked with age as he steadied his breathing and began to drift back into his quiet fantasy. Though his wits were dulled from dehydration, he sensed a sudden, unmistakable presence in the room. He sighed, reluctantly backpedaling from his sleepy coping mechanism.
"What are you doing here, Black?" James inquired in a deadened voice, his empty eyes fixated on the cold fireplace before him as he became aware of the low footsteps approaching him from behind.
Sirius suddenly came into James' view, his face weather-beaten, scruffy and uncharacteristically funereal. He inhaled sharply when he took in James' tired appearance, his eyes clouding with an indistinguishable emotion, and dug his hands into his trouser pockets. "I thought I'd wait a couple weeks to find you…I was going to give you a chance to gather yourself…to grieve—" The word struck James' heart like a bold of lightning. "—but I thought, to hell with it. I'm not going to allow you to wallow in self-pity, at least not alone."
James' glance flickered from the fireplace to Sirius, still steely and benumbed. He regarded Sirius for a moment, taking notice of his fading battle wounds, then offered a simple reply. "You always were impatient."
"I thought you were going to be upset with me for searching you out," Sirius said tentatively, treading as lightly as possible on the shells of James' former self. "I expected at least a curse word or two?"
Sirius was disheartened by James' comatose response, his frozen demeanor and haunted eyes strickening him with worry. "I don't feel anger…I don't feel anything, really…except…"
James cringed. Sirius pulled a chair in front of James' and sat down, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "Talk to me, Prongs."
That was all it took. At the sound of his voice, James shoulders began to pitch back and forth, the flimsy walls of his resolve crumbling and trauma exuding from his every feature and movement. A painful growl escaped from beneath his gritted teeth as he closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists, attempting to strangle the grief that he could no longer conceal.
"Prongs…" Sirius whispered helplessly, his voice bordering panic as he knowingly recognized what was burdening his friend. "What's…what's happened to Lily?"
James slowly looked up at Sirius, his red-rimmed eyes coming alive with fanatical sorrow. "The school was…a priest told me all inside…they didn't…none of them…the girls with families left weeks ago…but she…she had no one…"
His gaze shifted back to the floor as he was unable to continue, a mixture of denial and horror contorting his usually handsome face. Sirius watched him fearfully, unable to find a trace of his best friend in the tormented man before him.
"Prongs…what if she made it out? Have you considered whether she was moved to another location before the bombings?"
"Don't you get it?" James demanded, his despondency dissipating as he aggressively jumped to his feet and crossed the room toward the window. He paused there for a moment, then looked back to Sirius, his tone rising. "Lily is DEAD, Sirius! She didn't have anyone! I was supposed to protect her…I was going to be the one to save her, take her away from that awful school, but I left her to die alone."
"How can you possibly blame—?" Sirius started desperately.
"BECAUSE IT IS MY FAULT!" James bellowed, grabbing the iron poker by the fireplace and brutally thrashing it against the window, causing the glass pane to shatter dramatically. Seeing the uncertainty on Sirius' face, James roared in aggravation and threw down the metal instrument, frustrated he could not get a handle on his emotions.
"It is the Germans' fault," Sirius maintained in angry determination, his beautiful eyes darkening with intensity as he moved closer to James. "You were protecting her…you were fighting them on her behalf!"
"But it wasn't enough, was it?" James demanded tiredly, his outburst having drained the only energy he had. He moved toward the fireplace, glass crunching beneath his feet, and leaned against the mantle, sadly regarding Sirius' reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror above it. "If I hadn't left, she'd still be alive, Sirius. If I hadn't let my pride convince me that I had a place in this muggle war, you wouldn't have those scars on your face."
"From what I hear, you saved my life up there," Sirius noted grimly, his declaration deep and his tone heartfelt.
"Yes…but I didn't save Lily's," James breathed, his voice cracking as he looked away.
Sirius swallowed, carefully coming up behind James and putting a hand on his shoulder again. "Her loss is a tragedy, Prongs. I am truly…so sorry. I know how you loved her…"
"Please," James balked, the word 'love' ringing in his ears like heavy, forlorn church bells. "Please, leave me…"
"My friend, there is nothing for you here," Sirius insisted, worriedly looking about the decaying manor. "Come with me, we'll go to one of my family's estates in Scotland. You can recuperate there comfortably and the old house elf can prepare meals—"
"No," James replied lowly, his voice resolute. "I'll be moving somewhere new every other day. I suspect there will be people looking for me…and I do not wish to be found."
Sirius frowned, defeated by James' vehemence to be alone. "Your mother has been searching for you. I daresay she does not know you well enough to know where you would hide, however."
"She is the last person on this earth I wish to see right now," James responded bitterly, seemingly unsurprised by Sirius' report.
"And what of the Order, Prongs? Moody is furious with you for leaving without explanation. I don't know if Dumbledore has members out looking for you. He wants you to return to the Order…he said he needs us both, now more than ever."
"I will always be loyal to the Order," James declared, his voice becoming softer as numbness began to set in again. "As for my involvement in the future, I cannot say. I do not wish Dumbledore to know what is going on, nor about my whereabouts. Will you give me your word you won't say anything?"
"You needn't ask," Sirius sighed, "What will you do?"
"I don't yet know," James whispered, turning to face Sirius. "Please…don't come looking for me again. When I'm…ready…I'll come back."
Sirius narrowed his eyes, wholly unhappy with leaving James to his grief. He didn't know what he was capable of in his heartbroken state…if James would do something reckless and put his own life in danger, or decide to never return to his former existence. What if he never recovered? What if he got lost in his own grief and the man he knew never resurfaced?
"I will respect your wishes, but if you don't write to me, I will come looking for you, Potter. Mark my words."
James nodded, dropping back into his battered chair and wearily laying his head against the furniture. He minded Sirius as he dejectedly passed by him and headed for the door, gradually closing his eyes as weakness pulled down on his lids. Before he was able to drift back to sleep, Sirius' fading voice sounded in the distance.
"It may not seem like you have anything to live for now, James, but Dumbledore and the Order need you…and I need you, too."
Author's Notes
Poor James! Please continue to read and review :)
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