Hi everyone! And Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates3 I hope that I can post the next chapter soon, but we will see! I'm really insecure about some parts of this chapter but I hope you will like it. Another special thanks to the kind person, who left such a sweet review again! Anyways, have fun!

The end justifies the means

On Monday while breakfast, I made some attempts to keep small talk but although Nightingale gave me short answers, politely as always, he seemed to be much more interested in the daily. Mellenby hardly said a word but stared occasionally between Nightingale and me. Dr. Walid had called me from the lab one hour ago to report that the DNA and blood samples showed no abnormalities, as I had already suspected. Mellenby had already moved into his old room but that didn't bring back any new memories, so we still hadn't a clue what happened to him.

"Well, I've been thinking about it", I said, reaching for another toast. "Maybe we could trace the last places you can remember. What do you think?"

"An idea worth trying", Nightingale said, folding the paper before taking a look at Mellenby.

The tall man frowned. "I have to agree on that", he blinked and looked at me questioningly. "Where would you start, Peter?"

First, we went to the door. It seemed to be the best start in my opinion, and I didn't want to confront him and especially Nightingale with the labs – where he probably took his own life. Mellenby glanced at the door of the Folly and gently stroked his hand over the brass bell before turning to course towards the road. Nightingale, who stood next to me in his elegant black coat, watched him doubtfully. A small cloud of our breath formed above our heads in the winter cold and between us a pleasant silence.

Mellenby seemed briefly distracted by the bustle of Russell Square, turning left and right, only to turn back and look at us apologetically.

It wasn't long before we all went back in (because it was fucking cold), unfortunately without Mellenby's memories magically coming back. However, when I tried to hang his worn coat on a hanger, I smelled a scent that seemed strange to me and reminded me of fear, doubt and night. I dug my hands deeper into the fabric, my eyes closed, in order to grasp what I thought was vestigia more clearly, but I felt nothing.

That's the problem with vestigia, you often don't know if you're imagining it.

Anyway, I was still feeling cold and quickly rushed into the kitchen, where Molly was already handing me a large cup of tea. She had pressed her lips together and tilted her head in a short energetic motion towards the hallway. I understood the hint and heart them as soon as I left the kitchen.

"Thomas...", said Mellenby. He sounded tired. "Stop."

Footsteps fell silent at a stroke.

"Don't..."

Nightingale's voice was calm and thoughtful, but still I heard the many emotions behind it that he was so desperately hiding.

"Please, Thomas, let's talk about this."

Mellenby's tone was soft, as if he were talking to a small child, which he couldn't know better. "We both made mistakes. Everyone does. So please can't we just work this out?"

I noticed that I took my steps carefully so as not to cause noise.

"Work this out?", repeated Nightingale quietly. It was audible that his calm collected facade began to crumble. "David, there's nothing left to settle, everyone is gone."

I finally reached the corner and found the two standing a few meters away without them noticing me. Mellenby was standing in front of Nightingale, a little too close, I thought. It almost seemed like he was pushing him against the wall, which my boss would never let someone do to him. I could only see part of Mellenby's profile, but Nightingale's face. He still kept his composure but stared at his counterpart almost incredulously.

"But you are still here. And me. Please give me a chance", Mellenvy said, still gently. "Back in the hospital you forgave me for my mistakes, but we never talked about them. So, I understand why this is back on the table. Let's discuss it and forget it once and for all, Thomas."

Nightingale's face went dark.

"You can't forget something like Ettersberg, David."

"You know I didn't mean it like that", Mellenby sighed. "I just thought maybe talking would help us to let go..."

"I think I said enough that night, David. When I begged you" – Nightingale fell silent, and the expression of regret disappeared from his face. "Besides, Ettersberg is not the point. Things have just changed..."

He turned to walk away, but Mellenby suddenly grabbed his upper arm.

"Sir", I finally stepped in and Mellenby let go of him at once and moved back.

"Peter", Nightingale said calmly with a polite smile. "Is everything all right?"

I should ask you that. But both of them obviously wanted to pretend that nothing had happened here. I noticed Mellenby's watching me and stared back.

"Sure", I replied when I recalled late that Nightingale just asked a question.

The silence that had formed was interrupted after a few seconds by the ringing of a mobile phone. Nightingale blinked confusedly for a moment, but then pulled the phone out of his pocket and managed to answer the call on the second time – I was really proud of him. David watched the whole thing with big eyes and such an amazed expression that I would have laughed if my thoughts had not been all about what I had just witnessed.

"My apologies", Nightingale said after he hung up. "I have to go, a search in Soho, a niece of Ms. Gamble, if you remember, Peter."

"I'm coming", I said, trying to hide my despair at the prospect of being left alone with David again.

Nightingale opened his mouth to probably list logical arguments why Mellenby shouldn't be left alone in the Folly, but he came before him.

"I'll go with you." I noticed that Mellenby was still staring at me, then he blanked and put on his movie star smile. "Of course, only if it's okay with you, Thomas."

There are two possible reasons why the three of us ended up at the door of the apartment in question. Number 1: my boss is too polite to articulate that there's something is not okay with him. On the other hand, what do I know about the relationship he had with Mellenby and to be honest I didn't really want to think about if they were ever more than friends at some point in the last century. Number 2: Nightingale realized that I would have low chances of arresting Mellenby on my own if he turned out not to be so trusting after all. But since we were still coppers despite our problems (like the Faceless man, sometimes Lady Ty and her recurring revenge for blowing up one of her wells and Nightingale's most probable ex who shows up at our doorstep) we had to drag Mellenby with us.

The clearly simple alternative would have been to just send me to the apartment, as detectives like to do it with their constables. I didn't suggest it, though, because I thought Nightingale was a little bit thankful earlier when I interrupted them by whatever, and he would probably give me a lot of Latin tasks if I had left him alone with Mellenby.

Yesterday Nightingale had spoken to Mrs. Gamble, who had indeed received silver cutlery from Rose Tarence but, as we learned from her, was not the only one. There were four sets in total. One – definitely harmless – had been kept by Mrs. Gamble and another was bequeathed to her niece, while the other two remained untraceable. So, we could only hope that the said niece owned the set, which might drive people crazy and that she hadn't sold it on eBay yet.

Mrs. Porter was in her mid-thirties, married and lived in an ultra-chic attic apartment. She asked us in with a smile. Mellenby introduced himself as Detective Inspector David Mellenby, and I would have enjoyed explaining to him the penalty for presumptuous conduct, but since I'm good at my job, I tried to focus on the case. Mrs. Porter kept the set inside a velvet cloth. It came from a factory that had its best time in the middle of the 19th century. Nightingale's face when he touched the cutlery already told me that this was not what we were looking for and when I touched it, I felt nothing at all.

Mellenby was the last to pick up a spoon and look at it thoughtfully. It was ridiculous. I'm sure he had no idea what we were investigating.

And so, it remained for the next few days. The problem was that we couldn't get a search warrant for everyone who knew Rose Tarence because we couldn't detect the threat of a cursed set of silver cutlery. It could be that a meal ended very bloody, just as it was possible that the users just would get sick or even nothing happening at all. So, all we could do was to have polite conversations with friends and family and to make requests, to turn the whole cellar upside down to look for cutlery, but only if it really didn't make any trouble, thanks.

One circumstance was all that got us into this case in the first place. Mrs. Tarence, who had recently passed away, had mentioned us – the Folly – explicitly in her will. According to our research, her husband was part of one of the few post-war resuscitation projects. Associations that where according to Nightingale founded and disbanded within a decade. After World War II, there were three kinds of practitioners in England: dead, wounded and mad. Nightingale fell into the second category and Mellenby most likely ended up in the third category. Nevertheless, as far as I know, both were among the last fully trained wizards who were not driven mad by the things that are now kept under lock and key in the Black Library. Few others founded associations where they tried - like the masters in Casterbrook - to teach the arts to those who were not yet fully educated. In one of these associations the late Mr. Tarence must have been, though not long enough to actually perform services for the Folly. The real fascination with magic finally seemed to have been with his wife, because we found handwritten notes on the Principia as well as some other books that could be found in the Folly's library.

Dr. Walid's examinations had confirmed that Mrs. Tarence was a practitioner. This is all highly unusual. Not only the part of her will, in which she regrets giving the cutlery I quote "her beloved" and asked the Folly for help, but also that the woman died at such an old age and not much earlier(by brain shrinking for an example). The only problem was that the lady already suffered from dementia since a few years and eventually came to the nursing home. The nurse in charge could only confirm to us that Mrs. Tarence had often spoken of a so-called curse she had inflicted on a loved one out of envy but had always considered it meaningless talk. However, she gave us the tip with the searches of apartments.

The relative or friend we were looking for must have received the cutlery shortly before Mrs. Tarence went to the nursery home, because all four sets were still mentioned on the list. And without many resolutions, we could only do what the Metropolitan Police could do best to get the objects we were looking for: getting on the nerves of citizens.

"May I come in?" Mellenby asked me, curiously looking over my shoulder. It was Saturday afternoon and there were plus degrees in London again, it was raining in torrents. Mellenby stood outside the door of the carriage house with a black umbrella, which most likely belonged to Nightingale.

Nightingale had moved to the library after lunch to further investigate the case. I went to the tech cave for that. My actual plan to browse the web was rather semi-productive.

"Sure thing", I said after a short hesitation and stepped aside.

I realized that after lunch we had more or less left Mellenby to his own devices and wondered if he had tried to keep Nightingale company before he came to me.

Since Monday's incident, at least as far as I know, the two had not had a conversation, which went beyond courtesy.

"I wanted to explain something", Mellenby said as he sat down on the couch. "The conversation you probably witnessed. You're probably confused."

Confused?, I thought. Not exactly the description I would choose.

"Go on", I demanded him instead.

"You have to understand first that Thomas and I have known each other since we were children."

"I know", I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "You went to Casterbrook the same year, right?"

"Exactly. I didn't really like him at first, to be honest. He was terribly good at everything he did and had really high magical abilities. In retrospect, most of our classmates probably didn't like him in the first year." Mellenby smiled half. "But the other students and I quickly realized that he was also brilliant at being a good friend, but I don't have to tell you that."

Were Nightingale and I even friends? It wasn't like we go to a bar together to get drunk, or on trips and visit each other. We are living together and probably spent more time with each other than with anyone else, but that could probably accord to most employees in an office. We were colleagues and a mentor and apprentices. Almost everything we do together was due to the work.

But I am also friends with Sarah Guleed even though we are colleagues, just as I was friends with Lesley. I saw both of them in the past mostly in the context of work/training.

But calling Nightingale a friend didn't feel right. Almost as if that word wasn't enough and yet David Mellenby was talking about what a good friend my boss was, and I couldn't help but feel like I was missing something.

"Over the years, we experienced so much that brought us together and at some point, he was so much more to me."

For a moment he smiled at me in a way I would almost call triumphant, then his face darkened.

"But after we graduated from school, everything got more complicated. You see, I found myself next to someone who perfected everything, wondering what I had actually accomplished by myself. I worked for years on experiments and theories that hardly led to anything, while Thomas was admired by everyone for what he did. Everything is change – I knew that if I continued to pursue my studies of quantum mechanics, there would be a breakthrough at some point."

He gave me a sharp gaze. I think I knew what he was looking for.

He wanted me to understand him. Lesley had always been better than me, the best copper of her age, as Seawoll had pointed out ones. She learned Latin and magic faster than I did and had even taught herself her first spell. She didn't let herself be distracted or intimidated. But most of all, she had been my friend. I never felt bad about her. She was funny, supportive and full of great potential. She was brilliant.

And we lost all of that after Sky Garden.

"I just wanted to do something on my own for once in my life, something that would not only make me proud, but also help others. Something that will endure and remain constant change", Mellenby explained, stroking over the backrest of the couch. "From this point of view, that time has already tested my relationship with Thomas. I was just working all the time and wasn't very sociable either, but he was always there for me, even at school when everyone thought I was a swot."

I was thinking about Nightingale and I'm pretty sure he had compared me to Mellenby several times in the past. The man before me seemed to have the same need to find an explanation for the world and its magic. I knew he even believed in a connection between quantum mechanics and magic, something I had considered right away when I started my training.

"And then came the war", I said, perhaps anticipating. But who could blame me, I didn't really want to hear what a good team they used to be.

"Then came the war", David muttered approvingly. "I've worked with a lot of international scientists; they were my friends and there were a lot of Germans among them. We've worked together on quantum mechanics and magic theories that could have solved so many things: poverty, disease and maybe even death, all of these would have been problems of the past in this brave new world that we were about to build."

I know Nightingale gets annoyed when I modify spells. He liked to call it a gambler or even an insult to art, but I know he still appreciates my considerations and understood my point of view. I believe if we would understand magic more, we could use it more specifically for good things.

The same thing Mellenby hoped to archive, that and recognition.

"And in the war, you felt betrayed because those who thought you were your friends had joined the Nazis", I concluded.

Mellenbys closed his eyes and sighed resignedly.

"They have done so much more. Stolen and perfected my theories by misusing my precious gift and doing the most terrible experiments on sentient beings. Everything for science and the worst part was that they have learned so much from it, so much that might could save mankind and that's why Ettersberg happened."

"The Black Library", I said. "All the results of these experiments are stored there."

"Thomas wanted to watch it burn down."

Mellenby rose suddenly.

"For him it was nothing more than a twisted satire of my life's work, which had already caused enough grief. The failed dream of a little boy", he explained, and began to walk slowly towards the window as followed him. Outside it was still raining and the drops thundered loudly against the window. "He never saw the opportunity that the results could have brought us. A solution, a price for all the suffering, so that these terrible experiments would not be meaningless. He didn't want to understand, didn't want to take risks, didn't want to send even more semi-educated practitioners to death for such a manoeuvre."

"Then why did Ettersberg happen?" I asked quietly. "Have you convinced everyone to save the results instead of destroying them?"

Mellenby smiled humorously and leaned back.

"I didn't have to. Thomas was all alone, the only one who was in favour of destruction until the last moment, as if he knew how it was going to turn out in the first place. There was a chance that we wouldn't survive the whole thing, as with everything that happens in the war, but the risk assessment made the operation relatively easy and when you consider what we could get from it, it was worth the risk. "

"The end justifies the means", I said, and Mellenby smiled darkly.

"Either way, we had to withdraw the results from the Germans. And since they were mostly – if not too macabre – fruits of my work, my vote definitely had weight and Thomas never forgave me for that. That's what Monday was all about."

Mellenby fell silent for a moment and then gave me a revealing look.

"At least that's what I thought. But he said that Ettersberg was not the reason. That it's not what's between us, it's something else."

"Oh..."

And suddenly my brain understood why he was here. Mellenby raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! No, we're not", I had started waving my hands around and would have liked to hit myself for it, but my mouth had not yet come to that realization. "Nightingale and- uh – Thomas and I are not... we're not... a couple."

Unfortunately. Stupid, treacherous thoughts.

Mellenby said nothing and it made me nervous.

"I didn't mean to imply that you are with him, but…", I tried to sigh silently. "I'm not what's between you. Definitely not. You don't have to worry about me, sir."

"I didn't intent to make you to feel uncomfortable, Peter", Mellenby said graciously, wearing that movie star smile again. "I thought maybe you know what might hold Thomas back, but I think if I get my memory back, I'll be able to find the answer fix it. But still, thank you very much for the conversation."

"No problem", I said, hoping my voice didn't reveal, how defeated I felt.