China Doll III-- Moony and Padfoot

China Doll III-- Moony and Padfoot


"Try... just try..." Sirius had to admit he had always had a flair for melodrama, and the look on Remus's face, not to mention the man he was holding at "gunpoint" made the trip to Hong Kong by Dumbledore's Portkey worth the motion sickness. All it had taken was a Locatés Charm to find Remus, too many James Bond movies, and a simple illusion on his fork to make it look like a gun. Suddenly he had in his hands, an entrance no one would ever forget. The thug's gun fell to the floor with a clatter. "Good," Sirius sneered, withdrawing the fork from the man's temple. "Now I want you to walk over and put your hands on that wall. No quick movements," he added sharply.

"Do you have any identification?" A pale woman in a waitress's uniform said from behind the counter, who looked as if she had just had the shock of her life.

Sirius paused for a moment, trying to disguise his rapid fabrication. "I can't disclose that information." He said, putting the fork into the pocket of his robes.

"Why?" she asked getting braver, now that the shock of his entrance was wearing off.

"We work for a very secret organization," turning, Sirius saw Remus looking at the woman earnestly. Though he had often promised to curse himself when he started referring to things as "the good old days"; Sirius felt a twinge of nostalgia. It was Moony and Padfoot once more...

"You know him?" the woman gestured at Sirius, confusion audible in her voice.

"That's classified. I'm sorry," Sirius said, smirking at Remus, who had Boy Scout written all over his face.

The waitress glanced from one to the other before turning to the diner, "Alright, we're closed. All of you get out." There was a collective moan from the customers, who had never probably seen something so interesting in their lives and were far from eager to return to hum-drum normality. However, the tone of her voice was so firm, and her anger so commanding that they obliged, all filing out in one disappointed mob. "You three stay," she said, gesturing to Sirius, Remus, and the thug all clustered around the bar as she walked over to the door and pulled the lock closed. "No one is leaving until I know what's going on."

"That's classified," Sirius said swiftly.

The woman gave him a disgusted look, "You must really think I'm stupid."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something equally snide, but Remus cut him off. "We're sorry."

She turned to him, her black eyes blazing, "What is going on?"

Remus shook his head slowly, "I wish I knew... why are you here?" He turned to Sirius, his gray eyes looking even more tired than when he had seen him last. "No one knows I came."

Sirius threw a quick glance at the waitress and the thug and decided to answer him sincerely. Memories could always be modified. "Dumbledore knew. He sent me."

Remus heaved a heavy sigh, "Why? Did Snape--"

"God, no," Sirius held up his hand. "It had nothing to do with that prig."

"Then what?" Remus said, gently rubbing his temples. "I just want to be left alone. Dumbledore knows that."

Sirius put on a mocking face, the weight of his message tainted by his mocking tone. "You can't hide forever."

"I don't care."

"Remus..." Sirius said, making the trip to the bar in one long stride. He caught Remus by the shoulders, and pulled him up so they were staring each other in the eyes. "They need you."

"They didn't need me a week ago," Remus said tonelessly.

"Don't be a prig, Remus," Sirius snorted, gripping him tightly. "At least hear me out."

Softly Remus shook his head and wrenching away from Sirius, he buried his face in his hands.

"Can we be alone..." Sirius ventured glancing rapidly at the waitress and the thug, who were both standing in rapt attention.

"Yes," the woman began, intuitively sensing his sincerity. "There's a back room. We'll go." Without another word, she left, the thug following her like a lapdog.

"Remus," Sirius knelt down slowly feeling like he was consoling a small child.

"Go away-" Remus averted his gaze, shaking his head softly. "You don't understand."

"You're right," Sirius said, pulling up the barstool next to Remus. "I could never begin to understand..." He stopped, suddenly remembering the last time those words had been said to Remus-- who had said them to Remus. It was an echo of twenty years before.

Remus must have been remembering the same thing, for a faint smile flickered across his face. "He was a good friend, Sirius," he said softly.

"Yes," Sirius looked down at the bar, tracing its marbleized patterns with his fingertips as he tried to suppress the memory.

"I remember the night... that Halloween. It was the full moon... so I wasn't told. I saw it in the Prophet that morning. How Harry had defeated Voldemort... and how you had... killed them..." Remus said in a husky voice, still staring at the wall. "I had lost all of you in one night... I wanted to die too. The last of the Marauders... we used to joke about that, guess who's be left...and when it came, I though it was so ironic, I lived... when I'm not even a person-"

"Look at Wormtail, Remus," Sirius said firmly, leaning forward. "Look at the filth he turned out to be."

"But even you suspected me of being the spy, before..." he broke off, his voice tense with emotion. "You suspected me, because of what I am, even after eleven years." Remus turned, and for the first time, looked Sirius straight in the eye. "No one trust you. No one... its just... I'm sorry," he stammered, dropping his gaze. "I shouldn't have..."

"No," Sirius said stiffly. "No, you should. You're right. I was wrong."

Remus shook his head once again, eyes still on the bar.

Sirius reached out across the unbreachable foot of countertop and gripped Remus's arm. "I would trust you with my life, Moony."

"You're just saying that," Remus muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

"You know that's not true," Sirius asserted, squeezing his hand once more. Their eyes met for the briefest of second and when Remus looked away, his face was traced with the ghost of a smile. "Now can I tell you what Dumbledore wanted?" Sirius said with a sprinkling of humor.

"You're relentless, you know that," Remus rolled his eyes weakly.

Sirius considered this for a few seconds, "I've been called worse."

"Ach! Go ahead," Remus growled. "There's no stopping you."

"He gave me this-"

"Uhhh!" Sirius withdrew his hands from the pocket of his roes with a start as he and Remus turned as one to the countertop where a very battered body was opening its eyes. "...He can't loose..."

"Don't sit up," Remus said suddenly, holding the man stable, "You're badly hurt."

"Where am I?" The man asked slowly. "My head hurts..."

"Yes I'd imagine," Sirius volunteered blithely, leaning forward.

"Could you get the waitress?" Remus asked him sharply. "I don't know anything about healing without--" he stopped himself from saying magic with a quick glance on the now conscious body at the counter.

"There's nothing a Band-Aid won't cure," Sirius remarked as he stood up.

"'Cept a broken heart."

"What?" Sirius turned to the counter.

The man gritted his teeth, holding onto his side, which was still bleeding wickedly. "I said a Band-Aid will cure everything except a broken heart."

Remus saw flickers of something pass over Sirius's face, and he knew almost instantly whom that flicker was; her name, her memory, almost as blatant as his heartfelt silence. "Yes..." he finally assented, his face for once solemn. "That's true." Sirius turned, and without another word strode into the backroom, his prison-issue shoes flapping on the hard tile floor.

"My head hurts," the man grunted still gripping his side.

"You'll be fine," Remus said, trying to reassure him as the man groaned bitterly.

"That's what I'm afraid of..." he tried to smile at the joke, but his laugh was cut off by a moan of pain.

With a clang, the kitchen door swung open and the waitress practically ran into the room. She made it to the bar in four quick strides and grabbed one of the man's hands, ignoring the blood caked around and through it. "What's your name, honey?"

"Isaac," he mumbled through clenched teeth.

"D'you have a phone?" The waitress turned to Remus, her voice tense with urgency.

"No," he said, trying to veil his confusion as best he could.

"Orien, call the doctor," the waitress snapped, turning to the thug standing in the shadows behind Sirius.

He sneered something in Chinese, of which the only word Remus recognized was "Whimsy".

"I don't give a shit, Orien," she growled back at him. "Give me the phone!"

Instead, he gave her a look of hell. Orien pulled a small black Muggle object out of his pocket, which Remus assessed must be the "phone" and began to speak into it in rapid Chinese. Obviously satisfied, the waitress turned back to Isaac. "Orien's calling the doctor, honey. You're gonna be fine."

"Orien?" Isaac muttered, his face draining of the little color it had left. "Naoto's Orien?"

The waitress did not reply, except to stroke Isaac's matted hair.

"Can I do anything?" Remus said, feeling very awkward.

The waitress gave him a piercing look, unervingly like Dumbledore's. "You can answer a few questions of mine, mister. Other than that, no."

"Questions?" Remus raised his eyebrow, still wary.

She gave a strained smile. "I don't think I'll be getting many straight answers."

"What do you want to know?" Remus said carefully.

"Your name for one," she replied frankly. "You weren't so close-mouthed before your friend showed up."

In spite of himself, Remus felt his face redden, "What's your name?"

"Su Vix," she snapped drolly. "Or in English Vix Su, take your pick. Now can I be enlightened?"

"He's John Lennon," Sirius smirked, sidling up between Remus and the newly passed-out Isaac. "And I'm Ringo Starr."

Remus registered a blank look, which fit the gap in his mind, but Vix gave Sirius a look of pure venom. "I am really beginning to dislike you."

"It's mutual, dearie," he smiled smugly.

"My name's Remus Lupin," Remus said with a pang of conscience, ignoring Sirius's look of disgust. "This is..."

"Padfoot," Sirius interrupted, throwing out his hand. "My parents were the hippie types." Remus hadn't a clue what "hippie types" were, but they seemed a plausible explanation to Vix, who took Sirius's hand with a curt nod.

Remus was just about to say something, when he felt a persistent prickling between his shoulder blades... an intense feeling of being watched. And then... the world exploded in a tinkle of breaking glass and a blinding sheet of white light.