Sirius explained as best he could, tried to make Dumbledore understand.  He didn't need to be taken away.  He wasn't dangerous.  He shouted and pleaded, all the while trying to ignore the whispers in his head.

Oh, but you are dangerous. He could have died. He still could die. It should have been you…

Dumbledore just sat back, letting him speak.  He nodded, frowned, and spoke in the right places, and there was pity in his eyes. 

"Sirius, I am sorry about everything that you have been put through.  Everything you and Mr. Lupin have suffered.  But it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of all parties involved."

Sirius laughed.  One short, bitter laugh.

"Now," Dumbledore continued. "I am aware of you and Severus' somewhat, er, hostile relationship," he said carefully.  "But he has kindly offered the use of his home in just such a case.  And I am sure you will find that –"

"Don't," Sirius spat, cutting him off. "Don't give me that."

 "Sirius, you must understand that –"

He cut him off again. "My feelings for Snape are not hostile.   They are feelings of revulsion, loathing and boundless irritation.  The bastard would turn me in as soon as he possibly could! He knew I was innocent that night, he knew! And he tried to have me killed. It could have ended there.  But because of him –" He paused, fighting to regain his composure.  "You may trust him, Professor.  But I don't."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.  "I do not deny that Severus' actions may have been a little…unnecessary.  But I am afraid, Mr Black, that you no longer have the luxury of choice."

Sirius blinked.  "What?"

"You were seen." He said.

Dark eyes widened and Sirius' face paled.  His stomach lurched.

"Muggle police received calls from several people reporting your presence on their street at the time of the accident.  There is also the matter of damage done to a muggle car when it collided with a "wolf" last night."

They'll find you…and then they'll find him…

"The Ministry has already been notified."  Dumbledore paused, trying to gauge Sirius' reaction.  The young man sat motionless, silent, hands gripping the edge of the table.  He didn't need to hear any more.  He knew what would happen.

They'll come here…they'll find you…

"Sirius?"

And then you'll wish you'd stayed in Azkaban…at least then he'd be safe…

"I will give you both two days to decide what to do." Dumbledore finished stood up.  "He will need you here, for tonight at least."

Sirius nodded dumbly, barely registering the words. 

Dead? The voice laughed, harsh and cold. Thanks to you, he'll be worse than dead.

~  *  ~

The next part was all a blur in Sirius' memory.  Dumbledore had promised to return in two days, and then disapparated with Madam Pomfrey.  There were some bottles and phials on the table, presumably for Remus, and a list of instructions for each.

Scooping them up, he made his way upstairs.  Remus was still unconscious, but Pomfrey had said that he would probably make a full recovery.  Only time would tell.  He needed rest, both mentally and physically. 

Sirius stood at his friend's side, looking down at him.  He was pale, bruised and looked far too thin, but the wounds were gone, and the blood had been washed away.  Sirius knew there were bandages, hidden by the blankets.  They would have to be replaced in the morning.

Some may have said Remus looked peaceful, or merely asleep.  To Sirius, he looked dead.  Ashen skin mottled with bruises, thin body motionless, lost among pillows and blankets. Remus was a corpse in Sirius' eyes.

…Dead? Ha! Thanks to you he'll be worse than dead…

Dark eyes shone with tears, but none would fall.  Not now.  Hands clenched, driving nails into the soft palms.  Sirius slid to the floor, resting his head against the bed behind him.  It was all that held him up.  The smell of blood made him sick, as faint as it was, hidden beneath countless other aromas of potions, disinfectant, and the smell of rain and rotting leaves. 

...they'll find you…it should have been you…they'll come

…worse than dead…

He fought against the tears, against the screams, against the nausea that threatened to overpower his senses.  He drove his nails into his palms, he clenched his teeth.  He fought to stay calm.  His breath came in shaky gasps. 

because of you…Dead? Ha!…

He could barely see.  He could barely breathe.  The cuts on his forearm stung, a painful reminder why he was here.  He pulled himself up on his knees, so that he could see.  Remus hadn't changed.  He slept on, so still, so pale.  A corpse. 

…Because of you…

The dam broke.  Guilt, overwhelming, all-consuming guilt weighed down upon him.  This was worse than before.  Worse than it was with James and Lily.  Worse than anything.  Remus could have died.  If the ministry got onto him, he could still be in danger.  Sirius had caused it. Remus had protected him, had cared for him, had offered him friendship and support where others gave none, and this was how Sirius repayed him.

"I didn't mean this to happen. I never wanted this," Sirius was crying, tears sliding down his face to fall unnoticed onto the blankets.  He was a grown man, he was a convicted criminal, he had been through so much without tears.  But he wept now.

"Please," he croaked.  "Please believe me.  I'd never hurt you. I'd go back to Azkaban before I'd ever think of hurting you."

He bowed his head.  Remus remained the same. 

Some people believe that their loved ones will hear them while unconscious.  But Sirius knew his cries went unheard.  He knew Remus would have woken, would have given some sign, had he heard any of his friends in such utter despair.

"I'm so sorry.  It's all my fault and I'm so sorry."  Sirius let his head fall onto his arms.  He heard nothing, he saw nothing.  His entire body was numb.  He knew there were tears on his face, knew that he was scratching at the bandages on his arm, but he felt none of it.  He heard only his own voice, whispering.

"I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I'm sorry –"

Minutes became hours, long and slow, while Sirius knelt at Remus' side.  His sobs calmed, and tears flowed silently down his face.  Soon his whispered apologies ceased and he began to doze.

*

It was the crying that reached him, the ceaseless, violent sobs that pierced the fog shrouding his mind.  There were words, yes, but they were lost to him. The voice was familiar.  It conjured memories of laughter and mischief, mixed with pain, and terrible sorrow.  However, the voice that reached his ears was none of these things.  It was the voice of utter hopelessness and remorse.  The voice of someone who has given up all hope of better things to come, someone who has sunk so far into despair that he is almost beyond saving.

Images played across his mind.  Black eyes shining with joy…red lines on white skin…a wicked grin…screeching brakes…those same eyes, haunted by guilt…a silhouette in the headlights…

Remus' eyes opened a crack.  The dim light assailed him, sending throbbing pain through his head.  His leg felt stiff.  He shifted awkwardly, turning his head, trying to take in his surroundings.  His room.  He was in his own bedroom, in his own bed.  Everything was blurry, and the room seemed to be rocking back and forth, but he could make out the shape at his side. Sirius slept uneasily, his head on his arms.  A slight breeze blew through the window, stirring the curtains.  There were tears on Sirius' face.

Remus opened his mouth, trying to speak, but his voice didn't seem to be working.  Everything was coming back.  That morning that seemed so far away now, the storm, the car. 

Another man may have felt anger, or resentment.  Here he was stiff and sore, unconscious for God knows how long, and the reason for it all slept inches away.  For Remus, anger would come later.  They were both alive, and relatively in one piece.  There was something else Remus held onto, that held off the bitter anger that would come.  At the end of it all, Sirius had chosen to stay.  He had chosen to live.   

Remus shifted again.  His limbs, newly mended, had been in the same position for hours and they begged to be stretched.  His head throbbed.  It was all terribly uncomfortable.

Sirius groaned and raised his head, blinking owlishly.  His vision was blurred, his eyes still clouded with tears.  His hair fell across his face, obscuring his vision further.  Something had woken him.  There was movement.  He could feel panic setting in.  Someone was here. 

He blinked again, brushing his hair out of his eyes.  Bleary hazel eyes looked into his own.  There was a moment of silence.

"Remus," Sirius began, intending to repeat his apologies.

Remus shook his head, cutting him off.  He didn't want to hear it.

Outside, it was a sunny Autumn afternoon.  The clouds had cleared.  Children were playing somewhere nearby, their laughter, barely audible, mingled with the other sounds of suburban life.

Inside the house, the two old friends sat together in silence.

A/N: Yes, I know it's short, shorter than the others especially considering how long it's been. Also, quite crappy and rushed, written after exams and I do believe my brain has forsaken me. I apologize. I really will try and finish this monstrosity sometime, honest! But not next week that's for sure. OOtP! Hoorah! Also, Work Experience. One wonderful week of finding out exactly what it's like to be a stablehand. *facepalm* Thanks again to everyone who took the time to review! *loffs*