CHINA DOLL XI EPILOGUE—DAYBREAK
The rain poured down in torrents around the tiny group huddled in Victoria Park. All were coated in veils of black and gray as the funeral procession slowly wound itself into the tiny nook of a graveyard, a great deal of "mourners" weeping for joy as Orien found his final resting place. Slowly, the long black coffin was lowered into the soaking earth, adorned with the wilted blooms of late July. Wilted blooms that would never see daylight again.
Three figures in black stood off to the side, two men and a woman. The woman's face was lost in the depths of her hat as she huddled under an umbrella. Eyes focused only on the grave in front of her, she dropped a single rose on the ground, her last tribute to a brother she had once held all too dear. Turning around she faced her companions, "Let's go, I don't want to hear the sermon."
Sirius knew it was because she didn't know if she could hold in the tears much longer, but he simply shrugged. "Let's eat. A diner?"
Vix's trembling smile was the only thing that was visible from beneath the wide brim of her hat. "I've had enough of those."
"The first restaurant we run into then," Sirius replied, slowly turning away from the tiny service. "How's that sound, Moony?"
"Fine," he shrugged, eyes purposely focused on Orien's grave. Remus hadn't spoken to Vix since Whimsy's death two days ago. She had not attempted to renew any conversation, leaving Sirius as the awkward bridge between two blocks of ice; that he feared would never melt.
In a desperate attempt to rally some enthusiasm, he turned to Remus. "I heard from Harry today-- my godson," he added for Vix's benefit.
"What did he say?" Vix said mechanically, eyes still trailing behind her to the somber funeral.
"You can read it if you want," Sirius said, reaching into the pocket of his robes, Vix took the well-folded letter in her hands. "Give it to Remus when you're done," Sirius added, trying to ignore it when Vix's hand trembled.
"I'll just read it aloud," she said coldly, averting his gaze. "Dear Sirius, Thanks for your last letter. The bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual around here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money is he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out the window. That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. But stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.
"I'm ok mainly because the Dursley's are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to. A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time than happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterwards? I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back, she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me. --Harry
"PS- If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad got us tickets for the Quiddich World Cup!"
"Quiddich?" Vix looked up from the letter, handing it back to Sirius. "Scars? Do I want to know?"
"Long story," Sirius shook his head, still smiling. "What it amounts to is I have to go back to England."
Remus's head instantaneously jerked up from the pavement, "Are you insane!"
"I have to," Sirius replied quickly, his infallible grin fading. "You heard the letter."
"What about the ministry? Snape?" Remus shook his head in amazement. "The dementors are still looking for you."
"Looking for you?" Vix's voice sounded incredulous from the depths of her hat.
Sirius hesitated a moment before responding. "I've been in prison for the last twelve years on fifteen counts of first degree murder. I escaped eleven months ago and have been dodging a manhunt ever since."
Vix pulled off her hat, loosing herself for the second times in the vacant void of his eyes, "And are you?"
"Am I what?" he said, tucking Harry's letter back into the pocket of his robes.
"Guilty?" she replied quietly, her white hands tightening on the black lace of her hat.
Sirius turned away, looking out across the park, out to where a man was being laid into the earth. "Only on two."
Vix dropped her hat in the mud, and not even bothering to pick it up, walked away.
----
"Vix!" She spun around as a hand grabbed her arm.
"What do you want, Remus?" she growled, wrenching away vehemently. "Just... don't touch me."
She saw him falter momentarily, saw the look of hurt dance across his face before it was gone replaced by a grim determination. "He's lying, Vix."
"How do you expect me to believe that," she spat. "Especially coming from you."
Remus looked at her, his gray eyes intense in the half-light of the cloudy afternoon. "He blames himself for two of the deaths. His best friend, my friend, James and his wife. They were in hiding and killed by Lord Voldemort, a dark wizard. Sirius was framed for betraying them and later framed for the mass murder of thirteen other people. He never killed them."
"Why are you telling me this?" Vix said, pushing a strand of wet hair out of her face.
Remus shrugged, averting her gaze. "Because... I owe it to Sirius, he doesn't deserve another person thinking he's guilty."
Vix peered though the almost blinding rain and laughed. "No, Remus. I don't think you did it for Sirius at all. I think you did it for you. You did it to make yourself feel better after nearly ripping me to shreds. You did it so you could feel noble and aloof, so being apart wouldn't be something shameful. But you're not noble at all, you're selfish, just like the rest of us."
Remus blinked at her, his hair dripping in wet strands down his face. "So what if I am?"
"I'll tell you what!" she yelled. "You think you can get out of being human just because of the full moon? Well sorry, compadre, welcome to the real world. You're not perfect, you're not noble, you never will be no matter how hard you try. You're human, you have faults just like everyone else. And sometimes, you screw up, and nothing you do can make it better, agonizing about it won't make it any better, random acts of kindness won't make it any better, nothing will ever make it any better..."
"Vix," he reached out through the pouring rain to brush her shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" she yelled, whipping away. "Two night ago, you were trying to kill me. You would have killed me, and now you're trying to console me!"
"That wasn't me, Vix," he said bitterly. "I can't control myself... I'm not myself."
"But it's a part of you," she replied. "It's still there."
"So now I'm the monster under the bed, am I?" he snapped, stepping closer towards her. "Just like that. Who's being selfish now? Don't pretend to analyze me when you're a walking basket case! I'd saved your life, mentioning the necklace!" He ripped down the front of his shirt, exposing twenty trails of angry red blisters. "Look where that got me!"
"We're all hypocrites!" she yelled at him, running her hand madly through her wet hair. "You, me, Sirius, Orien, Nsia, Whimsy... we're all just basket cases, don't you see? Why did I live through this? Why me, and not Nsia? Not Orien? I'm not any better than they are, it's just luck, it's just fate, it's just..." she broke off, biting her lip, trying to fight back tears. "I trusted you."
"I trust you," he replied, extending his hand.
She stared at it then back to his soaked face, his too-old eyes. "I can't, Remus."
----
"So you're really coming back with me," Sirius said, pushing a persistent strand of hair back into place.
Remus stared around the airport; busy and bustling with signs of all kinds of life. There were Muggles in black on cell-phones, little children with balloons, roaming aimlessly or rushing through coffee shops and cheap magazine stores. Things, people, emotions, of every color trapped in the most nondescript ugliest building he had ever seen. The gray carpeting and blood red walls clashed horribly, a strain on the senses. "There's nothing to hold me here."
Sirius shrugged in reply. "Funny, I thought there might," he said, a mischievous smile on his face.
Remus shrugged as if he couldn't care less, though Sirius knew otherwise, "She hates me."
"I'm sorry," he replied, looking down at the floor. Once again his attempts to cheer Moony up had backfired.
Remus looked away, "Nothing you can do about it."
"Well the plane boards in fifty minutes," Sirius said, handing him a brightly colored ticket. "And we better get a move on, especially if I'm traveling incognito. I have to check Buckbeak too."
"I can't believe you're shipping the bird again," Remus rolled his eyes, a slight few meters nearer to happy at the change of subject.
Sirius grinned, "Let's just say he'll be glad to see Hagrid."
A dusty memory finally dredged itself up to the front of Remus's mind, "Sirius? You said Dumbledore wanted you to come and see me..."
"Damn!" He snorted, "I almost forgot, here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dusty scrap of parchment. "I suppose he could have sent it by owl, but somehow I think he wanted me here."
Remus took it in his hand and began to unfold slowly at first and then faster as the official looking seal and fancy blue script enchanted to sparkle pompously came into view. By unanimous vote Remus J. Lupin --Defense Against the Dark Arts-- proclaimed Hogwarts Teacher of Year, dated 1993, signed Albus Dumbledore: Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards.
A snort from Sirius brought Remus back to reality, "Who'd have ever thought it... our Moony, teacher of the year."
But he ceased to listen to Sirius's prattle as a tiny note scrawled at the bottom of the certificate caught his eye: Don't stay too long in the east, I like my friends close at hand. --Albus. His friends. Dumbledore had called him a friend. Despite all he had done, despite all the trust he had betrayed, Dumbledore still valued him. And in spite of everything, he smiled.
"Sirius!" Remus turned as the new voice filtered through the busy airport. "I heard you were leaving..." Vix stood, her face flushed from pushing her way through the crowd, her hair wild and messy. "You too... Remus."
"Yeah," Sirius replied, sticking his hands in the pocket of his robes. "On the 2:30 flight to London Heathrow. Look I have to go check Buckbeak," he said pointedly, gesturing to an enormous cardboard box a few paces away. "I'll leave you two..." and without finishing his sentence, he was gone, Remus knew on intentionally.
So this was it, this was his last chance to make amends, to make things, somehow, right. She raised her hand to her mouth, silencing any possible pleas. "So you have the tickets?"
"Yes."
Vix reached into her pocket, and somewhat abashed, pushed a sheet of paper into his hands. "This is the deed to one of father's old homes in England, in case you need a place. He won't even notice its gone and I hear Exeter is nice--" She was talking fast, obviously nervous.
Remus looked at the deed in shock, "I couldn't possibly."
"Please," Vix looked up at him, for the first time meeting his gaze. "For me."
"Thank you," he replied, tucking it into his robes. There was a long pause, a pause simple borne of too much emotion to express in simple coherent words. A pause locked in eye contact, in heartbeats, in breaths. A pause of nothing that meant everything to the two of them, a pause where silence reigned and everything was said, a pause of pain, a pause of love, a pause of fear, a pause of life... just breathing, just hoping, just being.
Vix reached out and grabbed his hand; "My father always used to say that life would be great if it wasn't for other people."
Remus made not reply, except to tighten his grip on her hand.
"He's wrong."
"Vix, I..."
Once again she raised her finger to her lips, gently shaking her head. "Some things go better left unsaid." None of the passerbys stopped to look, no one realized what had passed, to them it was just another airport goodbye, one out of too many. What sentimental fools young people were these days! Vix brushed that all aside, and taking Remus's hand in her own, she squeezed it tight. "Just live, for yourself Remus... Just live."
----
12 Rivermeade Road. Not too big, not to small, the very picture of suburban idylls, with its white picket fence and immaculate flower beds. Opening the door with a creak, Remus felt rather like a wolf in sheep's clothing, the beautiful entry hall as foreign to him as Hong Kong had been a week ago. It had only been a week, seven days previous, the word psyche would have meant nothing to him, diner just a place to eat, and Vix a terribly tacky name. That was all changed, and for or better or for worse, he was different.
The three of them had had a hurried lunch in the Hong Kong Airport and then, they had left, leaving Vix behind, a tiny figure in black standing by the gate window. From the moment they set foot on the plane, Silence of the Lambs was on a constant loop as in-flight movie. He knew now, in more graphic detail than he ever cared to experience, why Vix had cringed when he had mentioned it first five days ago. After nine hours of non-stop Hannibal Lector, he had left Sirius in the Heathrow Airport; Padfoot was heading north towards Hogwarts and Remus pushing south to Exeter. He knew without fail that he would see Padfoot again all too soon for comfort, for comfort usually fled when Sirius knocked on the door. Smiling wistfully to himself, his ragged case slung over his shoulder, he walked into the immaculate kitchen. Its teal and white checked tile made him feel more out of place than the entry hall. This was a house that needed a bustling family, not a lonely bachelor. For he could admit that to himself now, he was lonely. He was always lonely. Maybe one day, someday, that would pass, but for now he only had himself for company. Sighing, he looked to the heavy oak table and lying on it, folded carefully, was a letter marked by the muggle post. Wondering briefly who knew him who would write using the International Postal Service, Remus picked up the letter and slit open the envelope. A single sheet of lined paper fell out, on which was scrawled in loopy hasty writing:
Watch for me. -Vix