ICLYLM chapter 21 "Negotiations"



"What was it?" Phoebe asked when Jeffrey returned to his seat beside the bed. Blast, she hated having him sit there like he was keeping some sort of vigil...

"Odd," he said thoughtfully, "It was a dog. The dog actually cleared a spot on the glass with its nose."

"Smart dog."

"It also kicked up dirt to cover the clear spot it made before it left." Jeffrey said meaningfully.

"VERY smart dog," Phoebe said, closing her eyes against another spasm clutching at her abdomen. Jeffrey reached over and ran some warming energy into her to help her through the cramp. After a few moments she was able to lean back again into the pillows propped against the headboard.

"You know it's like having a tremendous case of unrelenting food poisoning," She said wryly, "and it's not going to get better." She paused. Was he ready to hear what she had to say. Well, now was probably as good a time as any. " I don't care what Voldemort wants, there is no way I'm going to hold out long enough for this child to be viable," Phoebe continued trying not to grit her teeth.

"How do you feel about that?" Jeffrey said, in counselor mode.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Not really."

"How am I supposed to feel?" Phoebe scoffed, then realized she was sounding like a cliche. "Look, I haven't the faintest notion how I should feel and few very clear ones on how I do feel."

"And those notions are?" Jeffrey prodded

"Boy, you must be bored, Jeffrey," Phoebe said dryly. He said nothing, continuing to wait with an annoyingly patient look on his face. Phoebe rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Jeffrey. I can tell you that I was looking forward to a longer life. Still, all things considered, I'm rather hoping I die soon."

"Why?" Jeffrey asked, this time sounding more like a friend than a counselor.

"The sooner I die the better the chance Voldemort can't use the child. I'll die happy knowing I at least foiled that little plan." she said grimly. "Trouble is, I have the distinct feeling that if I die, you die and I don't want that to happen. That's why I'm fighting it... we need time to figure how to get you the hell out of here. But we've got to think fast because I don't have all that much faith in my ability to fight."

Jeffrey looked at her, speechless. Phoebe pressed her advantage.

"The best solution all round is for you to go so I can die in peace," she ground out, clutching the blankets against another spasm.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Jeffery said in a stunned voice.

"You started it," Phoebe retorted with a small grin. Clearly she coped with humor.

"You know I can't do that, just abandon you."

"I really wish you would," Phoebe said scowling. "Look, I'm not being noble here! You can't save me and this is NOT a fun way to die! The sooner you get the hell away from here the sooner I can let it be over."

"Merlin's name, you sound like a suicidal patient..." Jeffrey said, rising. He walked a few feet away and turned back abruptly, his eyes intent, "You ARE a suicidal patient aren't you?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes, "Hardly. I didn't cause this."

"But you're not interested in fighting it, either. By all reports you've been depressed lately, which is no wonder. You've been through a traumatic experience that you haven't dealt with... In normal circumstances I wouldn't consider it ethical to let you make this call."

"I can't believe this... I'm being poisoned by Voldemorts evil spawn and you're debating how long you should let me suffer BECAUSE I'm depressed? Your ethics can take a flying leap, Jeffrey! You're just not ready to admit there is nothing you can do to save the patient, doctor," Phoebe retorted hotly.

"You don't know that," Jeffrey said sharply.

"I think I do. I think you do, too, you stubborn git!" Phoebe didn't want to be insulting but she needed to shake him out of the romantically noble notion that he could rescue this particular patient.

"I'm stubborn, you say?" Jeffrey replied incredulously.

"Jeffrey," Phoebe said calmly, deciding on another tack, "What exactly do you think you can do? Seriously."

"Well, I'm working to keep the toxins at bay and... well... there's really nothing else I can do without terminating," he admitted reluctantly.

"Jeffrey, please don't take this the wrong way," Phoebe said tightly, "but the way I'm feeling tells me the toxins aren't being held at bay very well."

Jeffrey sat heavily on the chair, "I know."

"Honestly, as a doctor, where do you see this case going?"

Jeffrey shook his head and said nothing. She was right. If things didn't change she would die and so long as she had to suffer as she was sooner probably was better than later... but he refused to accept that death was the only option... he couldn't accept that.

"Your prognosis is pretty grim if we stay here," Jeffrey said, "but if both of us can get the hell out of here I can save you, I know I can."

"How, exactly, are we supposed to escape with me in this condition?" Phoebe asked, "And how far do you think we'd get with me in this state if we did?"

Jeffrey looked hard at Phoebe. He had been debating with himself about telling her Severus was in the mansion. He hadn't wanted to exacerbate guilt the guilt she was clearly feeling about his being here. Now, however, hope might be more important. Besides, Severus was bound to return to the basement at some time or other and she'd find out anyway. He took a breath.

"Well, we'd likely have a little help, Phoebe," he explained carefully, "Severus is here too."

Phoebe's eyes widened and for a moment she looked as if she had just been given a tremendous gift. Then her face fell and hardened as she looked down at her hands, which were still gripping the blankets. "Damn," she said softly, "They've got him, too. I suppose they brought him here to assist in this little breeding experiment?" she asked bitterly.

"Yes, they did," Jeffrey answered evenly.

"What the hell have I done?" she whispered.

"Nothing wrong," Jeffrey said firmly.

"How can you, of all people, say that?" Phoebe asked incredulously, "You're sitting here inches from death because of me, Severus is upstair in the same situation because of me, Voldemort is preparing to unleash his progeny upon the world because of me."

"Oh, and this is what you intended to happen, was it?" Jeffrey asked.

"Of course not."

"Phoebe, it seems to me that all you did was take the risk of loving someone. Some mistakes were made, yes, but nothing here is your fault. The bad things that have happened have because of evil men doing evil things... that's not your fault."

Phoebe looked extremely doubtful, but held her peace.

"Why isn't Severus down here with us?" She asked, changing the subject.

"They still think he's one of them," Jeffrey said, glancing across the room at the door. They'd been quiet so far. Besides, Dunderhead didn't have the attention span to keep up with steady listening. Still, he lowered his voice.

"His cover hasn't been blown yet. He's let me know he's looking for an avenue of escape. He does come down occasionally and he keeps up the Death Eater act. He treats me very poorly when he comes. It would be comical if the situation weren't so serious. He's got the guard fooled, at any rate." Jeffrey explained hurriedly. "I don't know how you're expected to act, though."

"Well, how blown is my cover?" Phoebe asked trying hard to ignore the grinding pain.

"Not very, I don't think," Jeffrey mused, "You were unconscious when they came for us. Then again, I have the impression Voldemort was very displeased you didn't contact him with word of the pregnancy. I think it's a pretty safe bet he took that as a sign of betrayal."

"Damn," Phoebe said, giving up and grinding her teeth.

"Why, what were you thinking?" Jeffrey asked.

"If Voldemort thought both Severus and I were still loyal it would only seem to be a matter of controlling you. We could pretend to put the imperious curse on you... hell, we could really put the imperious curse on you it wouldn't be a strain for you to treat me, after all. Then we'd have freer access to the house and a better chance of getting out."

Jeffrey was nodding, "Yes, yes, I see."

"But you're right, Voldemort could scarcely think I'm still loyal."

"Unless..." Jeffrey mused aloud.

"What?" Phoebe said looking at him intently

"Unless the first thing you did when you woke up was accuse me of keeping you unconscious against your will. I would eventually have to break down and confess Dumbledore made me do it so I could terminate the child over your objections. I was just dragging my feet because I agreed with him but had a problem with the whole lack of consent thing."

"Noble but conflicted, interesting." Phoebe said, "Well, we might as well give it a shot... if it doesn't work we're not worse off since Voldemort probably believes me to be a traitor anyway. So, who else knows I've regained consciousness?"

"Maybe the guard, maybe not. He's pretty dim, he's likely still asleep in the stair. No one else has been here yet today, it's early yet."

"Okay, then," Phoebe said resolutely, "I've been talking as I've come around but only in the last little while have my senses really cleared. Now I'm angry. Alright?"

"Good."

Phoebe took a deep breath, "WHERE THE HELL AM I?" she bellowed, "WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, YOU ASS?"

Jeffrey jumped to his feet, "All I've done is treat you as best I can, Professor!" He said, loudly.

"Oh, have you?" Phoebe retorted in kind, "How is it then that the last thing I remember is your feeding me some potion or other in your office? Pretty strange I'd wake up somewhere else, isn't it?"

There was a loud creak outside the door. Dunderhead was listening.



A tawny owl fluttered down onto the ground next to Snuffles as he sat in the wood watching the house below. The Owl lay a folded, wax-sealed, paper in front of him. Then, realizing not treat would likely be coming from a dog, it took flight and disappeared. Sirius regarded the paper and pushed it with his nose. He tried laying a paw on it and getting his nose under the flap of folded paper. It was no good. Taking the note in his mouth, he trotted off to find a cave or a clump of bushes.

It didn't take long. He crawled into the midst of the patch of weeds and brush and listened carefully. There wasn't much to hear. The wood was unnaturally quiet and he didn't like it. He changed back to his human form. Moving as little as possible to keep from being gouged by the surrounding briars, he opened the note:

"Continue to watch. Send word of changes or departures. Will communicate soon."

Simple enough, he supposed. With a sigh he put the letter down and changed back into the dog. Now he was smaller and had a tougher hide, he began to dig a hole in the ground with his paws. When it was sufficiently deep he pushed the note in with his nose. The then turned and "left his mark" on the parchment. When he turned back around he was pleased to see the ink running in the yellow liquid. He replaced the dirt atop the note. That should do it. Supposing he ought to be go "make a patrol" in the fields surrounding the mansion, he emerged from the bushes and began to trot across the field. All in All, it was a good thing he did.