Quote from the movie "Rosenkranz and Guildenstern are dead", with the ever-great Gary Oldman! I haven't seen it yet, but I intent to…
September 1994.
"Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occured to you that you don't go on forever. It must have been shattering, stamped into one's memory. And yet, I can't remember it."
* * * * *
Hey, watch who you're calling a stubborn git and an idiot! Or I won't buy you a souvenir…
Still looking for me? Don't they have something more important to do? It would be obvious that I have nothing to do with that Dark Mark – I've always found it a distasteful thing. I´ll never understand what some people find interesting in snakes.
Can't really say anything more, but I´ll drop by one of these days, so we'll have time to catch up.
Padfoot.
PS: Childish? You're the one who started it!
* * * * *
"You do know you can't see, right?" Remus said when he walked into Wulf's room and saw the old man peering at a newspaper.
"You do know you're being a wise-ass, right?" Wulf answered in the same tone.
"Are you aware of the fact that one can say an entire sentence without adding a truckload of sarcasm?" Remus asked lightly. He sat down and plucked the newspaper from Wulf´s hands.
"That was my paper, I was reading it, and yes, I do know that."
"You weren't reading it because you can't read. You can't see," Remus pointed out. "If you ask really nicely I can read it out for you."
"Go hang yourself Lupin."
"I´d rather not."
Wulf raised an eyebrow. "My, what has happened to the timid little human-wannabe I met a few weeks ago? He's all grown up." He mimicked wiping away a tear.
"What can I say? One adjusts oneself to ones company."
"How touching. You really take after me. A father's greatest wish." Wulf grinned.
"I am not your son," Remus said pointedly. Wulf's grin changed into a harking cough that lasted a few minutes. When he had breath again, he said: "well, you're supposed to be my Godson, so you're as good as my son."
"How do you know that?"
The older man was still wheezing a bit. "Seems like all the Healers are quite taken with you. Calling you 'that charming young man' and so on. Quite annoying."
"Well, looks like being nice pays off after all." Remus ruffled the sheets of the paper.
"Just read, okay?" Wulf snapped. His right hand was plucking the blanket again. Remus was used to it by now and paid no attention.
"What do you want to know?"
"Is there anything about that Dark Mark?"
Remus sighed, but obeyed. He'd hoped to avoid the Mark for a few hours, but there was no escaping. He read out the main article on the front page (nothing really new), then continued, on Wulf's request, with the second page, which was always filled with small news, mostly about some poor witch or wizard being mauled by some hideous creature.
"Don't tell me you actually enjoy this," he said, disgusted, after reading about a wizard who had been found dead after being half-eaten by a griffin.
"Well, actually – " Wulf began, but he was interrupted by a Healer, who walked into the room with a goblet of something foul-smelling in his hand. Wolfsbane.
"Mr Talbot!" he exclaimed. "What did we tell you? You need your rest!" He glared at Remus. "Mr Lupin, I had expected better of you."
"Yes, bad Remus," Wulf smirked. "How dare you."
"Don't try and blame someone else, Mr Talbot," the Healer chided. "Now, you are going to drink this, then I´ll check on your wound, and then you go to sleep. And we'll have no discussion about that!"
To Remus' surprise, Wulf didn't make any objections. He wearily accepted the goblet and drank its contends in a few large gulps. He shivered. "Disgusting."
"We know," the Healer shushed. "Now, I´ll just get new bandages for your hand. I´ll be right back." Wulf merely nodded, tiredly.
"What's up with you?" Remus wanted to know when they were alone. "You're so quiet all of a sudden."
"I'm in a hospital. I just had to drink the most disgusting potion ever invented. I'm dying, you freak," Wulf said, with only half of his usual snarl. It still hit as hard though. "Am I allowed to be quiet or what?"
"Well sorry for asking!" Wulf had the amazing gift of irking Remus with a mere comment.
The Healer returned and started to take the bandage off Wulf's hand. The old man barely react, save for an involuntary flinch when he smelled the stench of the infected wound.
Remus couldn't help his curiosity, and he watched interestedly how the Healer slowly uncovered the wound. When he saw it, however, he had to back away and cover his mouth, swallowing heavily.
It wasn't just the smell of it – although it was twice as bad for a werewolf's sharp nose. But Wulf's hand looked as if it was rotting away before his eyes. The cut itself wasn't that spectacular, barely an inch long. Greenish… goo was oozing out of it. The palm was nearly black, and the veins in the wrist and the lower arm were dark-purple, nearly black.
Remus got closer, still with his hand over his nose. He was fascinated by this, he'd never seen silver poisoning before.
"Does it hurt?" he asked curiously.
"It's just a scratch," Wulf shrugged, then he laughed his coughing laugh. And Remus couldn't help it, he had to grin as well. It was pretty funny, come to think of it.
"No, it doesn't hurt," Wulf said. "I don't feel it at all anymore."
"You mean its dead?" Remus gasped.
"Well, yes."
The Healer had finished unwrapping the old bandage and cleaning the wound, and he now started bandaging it again. He paid no attention to the conversation.
"Couldn't they've amputated it?"
"Would've been useless," Wulf shrugged. "There's no amputating against silver poisoning, it goes too fast. Right?" The Healer nodded his consent. Remus noticed he was breathing shallowly through his mouth, as to not inhale the stench. He wrapped up the hand and tied the loose end up.
"Well, that's done," he sighed, straightening himself up again. Remus had the impression that the Healer was mentally wiping his foreheads and congratulating himself that it was over.
"Mr Lupin?"
"Hm?" Remus was woken from his reverie. "Sorry?"
"I'm sorry, but I think you should go now." Remus glanced through the window and saw that it was already getting darker outside. He needed to be home before the moon got up; it was full moon tonight.
"Yes, sure." He got up from his chair and patted Wulf on the shoulder. "See you in two days."
"I thought I couldn't see?" Wulf said.
"You know what I mean." Remus rolled his eyes. "Now, be nice, okay?"
"Hmm." Wulf pulled a face, but Remus ignored it. "Anything else?"
"Uhm," Remus thought out loud. "Oh, don't die, please."
"I´ll see what I can do," Wulf growled. His mood had swung to 'bad' again. "Now get out, and stop bothering me."
Remus obeyed.
~*~
The next morning, Remus groggily climbed the stairs on hands and knees, and somehow managed to climb into bed. His last conscious thought was to, this time really, seriously, swear-I-will-do-it, send a letter of thanks to Severus Snape. Then he fell asleep.
~*~
Hours later, he found himself sitting at his kitchen table, staring moodily at a cup of coffee. The damps were gently teasing his nostrils, waking him up more by the minute. His mind was on the letter of thanks he was going to write Snape. He'd wanted to write such a letter for a few months now, but had somehow never done it.
A tapping cut through his thoughts. He looked up, saw the owl with a letter in his beak, and immediately knew what was wrong.
"Shit."
~*~
"I though I said you weren't supposed to die?" Remus tried to keep the atmosphere light. But this time, Wulf didn't bite back.
The old man was lying tiredly back in his pillows. He turned his head towards Remus, who could see that Wulf was trying to say something, but there was no sound coming out of his mouth. His breath was going in ragged wheezes. His left hand was lying limply on the sheets, and his right hand, usually nervously fidgeting, could barely stroke the sheets. An alarmclock-like instrument was standing on Wulf's bedside table, and a light-red wire, much like a telephone's wire, went from the top of the instrument inside Wulf's pyjama top.
Remus sat down next to his Alpha's bed. The man beckoned him closer, and when Remus had bent over, Wulf managed to whisper: "you told me I wasn't to die. I'm not dead yet." He laughed soundlessly, gasping.
"What's that?" Remus asked, nodding to the red wire. Wulf gestured weakly with his right hand.
"It's – an alarm," he whispered. "Tells the Healers…" he gasped for breath, "when they can start celebrating."
"That's not funny," Remus said.
"I know it isn't," Wulf replied. "That's why it's called black humour."
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sound was that of Wulf´s breathing, still in wheezes, cutting through the silence.
"What happened to you?" Remus asked finally. "Last time I saw you, you were pretty much okay."
"The Change," Wulf muttered. "Was too hard. Poisoning… to my lungs. Dying." He fell silent again, his eyes closed, chest heaving.
Remus slowly scooted closer, until he was leaning with his elbows on the bed. He waited until Wulf was breathing slowly again, then he hesitantly started to speak.
"You know, there's… there's something I've always wondered…" he began. But Wulf cut him off before he had been able to properly finish his sentence.
"Don't."
"Don't do what?"
"I know what you – what you want to ask," Wulf whispered. "Don't ask it."
"How do you know what I want to ask?" Remus asked, a little irritated.
"Because I asked it myself." It came out so softly it was barely audible. "And – and you won't… like the answer."
"Try me." But Wulf shook his head, tiredly, his eyes closed.
"Please?" Remus begged. "I really want to know." The old man on the bed sighed. He shook his head slowly, but seemed to resign. It appeared to be more because he was too tired to argue than because he wanted to.
"What is it?"
"I – " Remus suddenly hesitated. This was it. "Why did you bite me?"
"Bad luck." Wulf let out a quivering sigh. His right hand, which had laid still the past few minutes, started fidgeting again.
Remus blinked. "That's it? Bad luck?"
"Can't make anything more of it… I told you you weren't going to like it."
Remus could feel he was getting angry. "But what were you doing there in that forest? Didn't you know there were people living there? Why were you outside anyway?"
Wulf´s hand suddenly lashed out and grabbed Remus by his shirt. With amazing strength, he pulled Remus closer. "Haven't you ever ran around freely? Smelled the scents of a forest on a summer night? The feeling of running, of following a trail through the undergrowth…" He was wheezing now, gasping for breath. "Moonlight… don't tell me you've never… never…" Wulf breathed the last words. His blind eyes were wide-open, staring at Remus' face.
Remus slowly and carefully pushed the old man back on his bed. He pried the fingers from his shirt. "I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have asked."
"Have you ever done that?" Wulf continued. He didn't seem to have heard Remus' comment. "It's the most wonderful… feeling…I thought there was no one around… I didn't know…"
His hand suddenly reached for his chest, and he started coughing, gasping for breath. Almost at the same time, the alarmbell started ringing violently. Before Remus knew exactly what was going on, the room was filled with Healers. One was pushing him back while two others started resuscitating Wulf.
"Don't worry, Mr Lupin," said the Healer who'd pushed him back. "He'll be alright." Remus wasn't so sure about this. Wulf was struggling for breath, arching his back, his eyes bulging. It was a very unpleasant sight. Remus suddenly became aware of his own easy breathing, and he unconsciously touched his own throat with his hand.
After a few minutes, Wulf´s breathing eased again. The Healers carefully checked the alarmclock, making sure the wire was still attached. They debated softly about something Remus couldn't hear, but left without changing anything.
Remus slowly returned to his seat next to the bed. He sat down silently. Wulf was breathing heavily. His face was pale and his eyes were closed. Were it not for his breathing, he would've seemed dead.
"I'm sorry," Remus whispered. He didn't know what for, but he felt he had to say it anyway. Wulf turned his face towards Remus. He slowly opened his eyes, and, to Remus' surprise, a weak smile was playing around the corners of his lips.
"Only fools are sorry for what they are," he whispered. "I've never been sorry for being – " a gasp of breath " – a werewolf. I've only been sorry for what I've done to… others." His hand was reaching for his chest again, and he was wheezing.
"You shouldn't talk so much," Remus said. He felt a lump in his throat. "Maybe I – shall I get a Healer?" But Wulf shook his head.
"Don't." He smiled again, a tired, small smile. "I've tried – to – come up with – impressive last words. Didn't work."
"'Don't worry, I'm sure this works' is pretty high on the list, but not really appropriate for this situation," said Remus. He was amazed he was able to joke on a time like this. Wulf seemed to appreciate it though.
"I think I´ll – settle for – 'well I´ll be damned. They – got me after all'." He laughed silently.
"I´ll write that down," Remus answered, smiling sadly. Wulf nodded. He had closed his eyes, and his breathing got ragged again. His hand was clutched at his chest.
"Are you okay?" Remus asked. He got to his feet. "Shall I get someone?" The older man was shaking his head. His mouth was open, and he was now gasping for breath. He had opened his eyes, and they were moving feverishly from left to right, as if searching for help. Remus started to panic.
"Wulf?" The other man didn't react. Remus kicked his chair back and started towards the door, but suddenly stopped. He looked at his Alpha.
Wulf had fallen back into his pillows. His eyes were open, his hand relaxed on his chest. The room was silent, there was no sound, no ragged breath, no wheezing. Nothing.
Then the alarmclock started ringing loudly.
~*~
The light of the setting sun fell through the windows, bathing the kitchen in a golden light. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the trees outside, and a few singing birds.
Remus was alone, sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the bowl of soup he'd made himself. It was stone-cold; he hadn't touched it. He knew he had to eat something, the last time he had eaten something was this morning, at breakfast, but he couldn't get himself to actually pick up his spoon.
This afternoon, he had seen someone die. It was the first time he had actually seen someone struggle for live, for breath, the first time he had seen a body give up. It made him feel slightly queasy, and, though it sounded unoriginal, it had suddenly and drastically changed his perspective on things. It had made him stop and think about his own live.
Monster walked into the kitchen through the cat-flap Remus had finally installed. The animal purred softly and started gnawing the hem of Remus' trousers, but the man ignored him. Monster huffed and scooted out of the room again. He even managed to do it disdainfully.
Remus was left alone until well after dark. The clock had just struck half past nine when the silence was broken by a hard knocking on the front door.
Knocking is perhaps a bit too soft – it sounds as if someone is trying to bring the door down! Remus thought irritably. He had wanted to be left alone, but someone had decided against that. He walked quickly to the door and yanked it open, ready to verbally cut someone in pieces.
"What – " he started aggressively. He had wanted to finish it with "the hell do you think you're doing", but was cut off by someone who was rushing into his house. The doorknob was pulled out of his hand, and the door was slammed shut before he had time to react.
"Sorry 'bout that, but I think someone spotted me. There was this guy walking his dog and I think he saw Buckbeak flying over. I tried to stay as hidden as I could, but there's always this one small chance…I'm leaving as soon as I can, I just need to drop this off, can you keep this with you?" Remus got a plastic bag filled with – things pressed in his hands. "Good, oh, can I get some food? Wait, I´ll get it, don't worry, there's your kitchen I believe. Be right back."
The kitchen door slammed shut. Remus blinked. He was standing in his hallway, in the dark, with a plastic bag with old papers and other stuff in his hands, and in his kitchen, opening the cabinets and taking stuff out, was – just like he'd promised…
He unceremoniously dropped the plastic bag on the floor and walked into the kitchen. Sirius was hastily stuffing noodles from a bowl into his mouth. It looked as if he hadn't eaten properly in days. His cheeks were bulging and he was bent over the bowl like a dog. He hadn't even taken the time to sit down.
"Sirius!" Remus exclaimed. Sirius turned around and swallowed a mouthful of noodles.
"Sorry," he said. "Sorry about all that."
But Remus shook his head. "Don't apologise. What happened? Where have you been? How are you doing? What are you doing here?" Suddenly, the words and questions seem to come out of his mouth like a cascade. Sirius continued stuffing food in his mouth, meanwhile giving muffled answers in chopped-up sentences.
"Hungry," he said, "Voldemort back, Harry sent me a letter, in Morocco, came back, Dumbledore wrote me as well – " He swallowed and immediately refilled his mouth, " – Quidditch World Cup, Dark Mark, these are good noodles, oh, disappearance of a Muggle and a Ministry witch, been reading the Daily Prophets – "
This would not do. Remus walked towards the eating Sirius, gently took him by the shoulder – at least he gained some weight since last June – and pressed him down on a chair.
"First you're going to eat," he said firmly. "Answering questions can come later." Sirius nodded gratefully. He mimicked drinking, and Remus went to get a glass of water.
It was a strange situation, and certainly not how he had imagined it. Sirius ate another bowl of noodles, a bowl of warmed-up soup, and three sandwiches Remus had made. All this in an amazing speed. Remus once warned his friend that he would surely get a stomach-ache, but Sirius shrugged and continued eating. After twenty minutes of wolfing down food, Sirius finally stopped, sighed, and sat back.
"Sorry," he repeated. "I simply haven't eaten properly in days, and although Buckbeak can catch animals, my idea of a nice dinner isn't really ripped-apart cats and all that."
"I'm gonna make you some food you can take with you," Remus said immediately, and he got to his feet. Sirius jumped up too. "Don't bother yourself! Really, I just walked in here, pretty much ate everything you have, you shouldn't give me something extra."
Remus pushed him back on his chair. "No argument about it." He turned around and started pulling his cabinets open, in search for food that was easy to take with you. "Just tell me what you're doing here."
Sirius told him. Everything. From what had happened when Remus had changed into a werewolf on the Hogwarts ground until his arrival at Remus' cottage. Halfway through his story, Remus had finished making a pile of sandwiches, which he had wrapped and packed into an old rucksack he had found. Sirius followed him through his house, telling more and more while he was looking for stuff Sirius could use. Finally, another twenty minutes later, they were back in Remus' kitchen.
"You do now you're being an idiot, and you're playing with your life, right?" Remus asked. Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Dumbledore and Harry told me as much," he said. "Well, not in those exact words…I know."
"Good, just wanted to check that," Remus said shortly. He hung the rucksack on Sirius' shoulders. "There you go."
Sirius suddenly flashed his trademark-grin. "I really missed that, you know."
"Missed what?"
"Someone telling me I'm an idiot and knowing I´d do something stupid anyway. And not by all means trying to keep me from it."
"Well, I´d love to keep you from going back to Scotland. If it were up to me, I´d lock you up in my basement until you were old and grey, but I know it's no use anyway," Remus smiled. "So I might as well try and help you get out of your ridiculous plan as unhurt as possible."
Sirius grabbed Remus by the shoulders and gently shook him. "You are my life-saver. No, my saint. My god!"
"Yes, yes, alright." Remus couldn't help but laugh. "Cut the melodrama. Get out of here, or I´ll turn you in to the Ministry."
"Would you?"
"Well, I can use the money…"
Sirius pretended to scowl. "So much for friendship!" He opened the door and carefully peered outside. "Nobody." He took two steps over the threshold and blew sharply on his fingers. Seconds later, Buckbeak landed inelegantly in Remus' front garden. Remus looked apprehensively at the giant wings.
"How can you fly on an animal like that?" he asked. Sirius shrugged.
"It's not as comfortable as a broomstick, or as cool as a flying motorbike – " he sighed wistfully " – but I got used to it. It's not that bad really." He swung one leg over Buckbeak's back and climbed onto the Hippogriff.
"I don't think I´ll have time to visit you at Christmas," he said, smiling down at Remus.
"Well shoot, now I have to rethink my dinner arrangement," Remus joked. "Now I have to find someone else to sit next to my stunning beauty of a niece."
"Well, maybe I can squeeze it in," Sirius said hastily. Remus frowned.
"Sirius, she's three years old." Sirius shrugged.
"I'm sure we can find something lovely to talk about." He shifted until he was sitting comfortably. The rucksack was on his back, and in front of him he had two more tattered plastic bags, tied together with a piece of string, each bag on one side. "I really must be going." He touched his temple as if he had a hat on his head. "I´ll write you."
"Yes," Remus replied. He had wanted to say so much more, but couldn't find the words. Sirius softly prodded Buckbeak with his heels, and the animal pushed off from the ground. It took only a few flaps of his wings, then they were high in the sky. Sirius waved one final time.
Remus looked after them until he couldn't see them anymore, and even a little longer. Then he got inside.
When he closed his front door, it suddenly seemed as if Sirius had never been there.
* * * * *
Padfoot,
Accompanying this letter is another packet of food. I have nothing else to say, save the usual warnings and pleads to stay out of trouble.
Moony.
PS: did not!