There was blood and it was hard to breathe. Credence wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but he did know that when he returned to consciousness he was in a pool of the stuff and there was a worrisome hitch in his chest. He'd broken a rib when he'd toppled to the ground, and that would be agony for days. It wasn't just his hands that were bleeding from cuts, but his nose and mouth as well. He was confident his nose was broken, and he was pretty sure that his lip was split as well.

Stranger still, he felt utterly exhausted. Taking a beating drained his energy, but not like this. This felt like... it took him a moment to place the bone-deep weariness that had washed over him. It was like when he'd woken the morning after seeing Iliana in the park. He'd woken in his own bed, not quite recalling how he'd ended up there, and felt like he'd walked the length of Long Island in a night. He'd barely been able to muster the energy to roll out of bed and dress, and it was only the threat of Ma coming to wake him that had gotten him to his feet at all.

Credence wondered dreamily what it would be like to sleep in - just once. He wondered if he could even do it, he was so pathologically terrified of oversleeping and angering Ma.

He pushed the foggy-brained thoughts from his mind and slipped his hand into his pocket. He needed help, and he knew it was late, but he also knew that she would be able to fix him up better than anyone else could and maybe she wouldn't even be mad at him for bothering her so late it was early.

Credence's hands felt oddly numb and he winced as his blood stained the slip of paper, but he had to check. Iliana was home, according to the little magical note she'd left him. It would normally take him only fifteen minutes to walk there, but now it would be nearly double that, if not more. He couldn't move to quickly, both because he was wary of jostling his ribs and because, when he hauled himself to his feet, his right ankle throbbed. He recalled dimly Chastity stepping on it and grinding her heel in maliciously as she steered Modesty from the room after he hit the ground.

In the end, Credence wasn't even sure how he managed to make it, swaying like a drunk down the sidewalk covered in his own blood. If he thought about it, that was probably why he'd made it. No one was going to mess with a person in that state, either to help them or hinder them. They had probably assumed he'd gotten in a bar fight and been flung out into the night, when the reality was so much worse.

Credence sniffled - the cold night air had set his nose bleeding again - and raised his sleeve to his nose to make sure he didn't drip blood on the floor in front of their door. He raised his hand and knocked. A dog barking sounded inside and he winced - right, he remembered that Iliana had a dog - and the sound of faint scratching could be heard against the wood. There was a bang and a swearing sound and then the door was wrenched open, and not by Iliana.

It took Credence a moment to remember her. He'd seen her only once before, at Bethesda Terrace, and she'd seemed a larger-than-life figure then in boots and a hat. Now her brown hair was in a loose braid, there were spectacles perched crookedly on her nose in front of bleary eyes, and she was leaning heavily on her cane as her nightgown swirled around her ankles. She glared at him viciously.

"I don't know who the hell you are," she growled, "or how the hell you got into that state, but you've got ten seconds to... to..." Her expression cleared and was replaced with one of abject shock, mouth dropping open. Credence wished he could melt into the floor as she whispered, "You're the Barebone boy."

"Credence?"

It was Iliana's voice, soft and sleepy, and she appeared in the doorway, ducking around her sister. She took one look at him, paled, and stepped back. Her sister stumbled away to avoid being run over as Iliana beckoned him inside swiftly.

"Deliverance Dane, what did she do to you?" Iliana asked worriedly, blue eyes shining in concern. "Come in, Credence, come in, please..."

"Annie?" her sister asked, voice strained, and Credence looked between the two of them fearfully. Her sister - Elvira, he finally remembered her name was - seemed completely shocked to see him there. She hadn't known that they were still in contact, apparently, and Credence was terrified he'd just somehow done something to get her in trouble.

"I-I can... Shouldn't have bothered you..." He babbled, stepping back. His ankle throbbed and his knee gave, making him topple back. He smacked into the wall behind him and groaned as stars flickered in his vision, his whole body seeming to give one huge concerted throb at the rough treatment after all the abuse it had already suffered.

"Broken ribs," Elvira said, and clucked her tongue. Credence felt strong but gentle hands on his shoulders, guiding him through the door. He wasn't sure which of the sisters it was as his head swam, but he was settled onto the couch, dimly realizing a drop cloth had been thrown under him to keep him from ruining the fabric.

"Iliana!" Elvira hissed, and Credence blinked in surprise as light suddenly filled the room. The fireplace lit, the lamps flicked on. He hadn't seen it, but he remembered how Iliana had waved her hand and made things happen. He imagined that was what she'd just done.

"Breathe, Ellie, he already knows."

"He already-?" Her sister's voice had gone high and furious... and also a little scared. Credence was good at identifying fear, having become so well acquainted with it over the course of his life. She moved in front of him and Credence felt the couch dip at his side. He turned his head slowly and saw Iliana sitting there. She picked up his hand and held it carefully between both of hers, wary of reopening the cuts there, and continued to stare at him with that affected look in her eyes. She smiled as he made eye contact with her and glanced at her sister pleadingly.

"Please, you've better at it than I am."

Elvira towered over the pair of them sitting on the couch - she was so tall - and Credence wished he hadn't come as she stared him down like she was judging him for damnation or salvation, jaw working as she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her eyes scanned him from his ruffled hair - he'd forgotten his hat, he realized dimly - to the scuffed toes of his shoes. She nodded firmly once and said, "Alright, you explain while I work. And make it good."

She made a move like she was going to sit on midair, but a small ottoman slid across the floor and caught her before she could hit the ground. A bouncing ball of fur ran to her feet, tail wiggling, and Credence stared.

That was not the dog he'd seen Iliana walking. This dog was impossibly skinny, with a head shaped like the head of an axe. It had short, stubby legs and looked completely impossible. As he watched, Iliana lifted a small bowl of what he'd at first taken to be some kind of potpourri off the side table, pulled an ordinary twig from it, and tossed it at the dog's feet. It happily took the bit of wood in its mouth and trotted off to the rug beside the fire to gnaw on it.

"Gus is an axhandle hound, they eat wood."

Credence was suddenly aware of the fact that he was gaping and turned his attention back to Elvira, who was straightening her glasses and still watching him suspiciously. She glanced sideways to Iliana as she twirled her cane between her fingers. The long, thick rod transformed into a thin switch resembling the one he'd seen Iliana use, though Elvira's was made of a darker wood and more intricately carved.

"Last time I checked, I told you to stop following the Salemers around," Elvira told her sister sternly. "We realized they were just blowhards and weren't a real threat to anyone so long as they kept out of their way. Yet he's turned up bleeding on our doorstep. Explain," she ordered. Credence bristled a little, seeing how Elvira was talking to her sister, and made to... he didn't know what. Do something about it, he supposed. But his protest turned into a fearful cry as the top half of his clothes suddenly vanished. He doubled over fearfully, instinctively trying to hide the wounds, the way his ribs jutted out, the spreading bruises, the awful skinniness and paleness of his body from their eyes.

"Damn it, Elvira!" he heard Iliana seethe on his behalf, and a moment later a blanket was thrown over his shoulder by her quick hands. "Don't do that to him!"

When he looked up next, there was something like brutal understanding in the older woman's eyes and Credence realized all the pieces had just slid into place. Elvira stared at him, sucked her cheeks in, and very calmly and icily asked, "D'you want me to kill her? Because I will happily kill her."

"Elvira," Iliana huffed, but her voice was being forced to sound light. Credence realized with a jolt that it was a serious offer. "Just help patch him up, if you will, and we can talk assassination later."

"Right." Elvira's head bobbed up and down in a nod and she raised her hand, the tip glowing. Credence instinctively shrank back from her reaching hands, and she gave an unfriendly laugh. "Scared of magic, boy?"

Credence numbly shook his head. "I-I don't... know enough to be scared. I j-just... being touched..."

"Ah." Her face softened imperceptibly. "I see. Don't worry, I won't have to touch you for most of this."

Credence listened to the soothing sound of Iliana's voice as she slowly explained their relationship to her sister. He noted she left some things out - their meeting in park and in the alley - and made it sound like they'd only stolen moments at the Salem rallies to talk and he'd come by once before seeking help after he'd been beaten. As she spoke, Elvira worked. She mumbled under her breath things that Credence half-recognized as some kind of Latin. Some of it though was in a language he'd never heard of. True to her word, she didn't touch him, just ran her wand through the air around him, the tip lighting different colors and trailing different sensations across him. His rib felt strangely but pleasantly warm, like he'd sunk just that spot into a warm bath. But when she got to his hands, there was a sensation like ice under his skin as the knuckles ground into place.

She summoned a bottle of something that came flying from down the hall. Iliana stretched out her hand and caught it, popping the cork from the vial of strange brown-purple liquid. She offered it to him and Credence wanted to refuse it, nervous to take anything anyone offered, but he was also very sure that Iliana didn't mean him any harm. He took it, his newly-healed hands shaking slightly, and downed it in one gulp. He gasped and stared at the bottle in disbelief. It tasted wonderful, like hot chocolate, and filled him with a tickling warmth.

"Generic all-purpose healing boost," Elvira grunted as she tapped her foot beside him. "Now come on, give me your leg."

She had to scoot back to make room for his long limb, but Credence bent forward to untie his shoe, unable to smother a smile as he was able to move without his ribs paining him. He pulled off his shoe and set his foot gingerly on Elvira's offered knee. She pursed her lips at the sight of two of his toes poking through his heavily-patched sock but wordlessly rolled up his pant leg and lowered the cuff of his sock to expose his ankle, which was blackened and purple.

"It looks like someone stepped on this," Elvira noted, tracing the curved shape of a shoe print lightly with her finger. She looked up at him knowingly. "Your mom?"

Credence shook his head. "Chastity," he mumbled, and her brow knit.

"That's the older one, right?" she asked, and Credence nodded. She huffed. "Well, like mother like daughter, ain't that sweet?" And she set her wand aside and warned, "I'm going to touch you for this bit."

Credence nodded. Knowing the touch was coming made it easier to bear as she wrapped both hands around his thin ankle and began to gently rub. A warmth filled the joint and washed away the pain, and Credence couldn't restrain a sigh... but then the warmth kept getting hotter and hotter until it felt like he'd thrust his leg into a fire. He whimpered in protest but bit his lip and bore the pain. Iliana's hands came up, once more, wrapping around his right hand and clutching it to her mouth. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes were on her sister as she worked, and that left Credence free to watch her in awe as she absently pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, hummed something wordless and soothing, and stroked a thumb across the place her mouth had just pressed.

"Anything else hurt?" Elvira asked, heaving a sigh as she finished her work. Credence was quick to draw his foot from her lap.

"N-No ma'am," he said politely. "Th-Thank you very m-much."

She huffed. "Iliana, tell him not to ma'am me. Also, feed him and give him a dose of pain relief for the road before you send him off. I'm going back to bed. Gus."

The axhandle hound leapt to its feet and trotted to her side as Elvira rose. She twirled the wand expertly between her fingers and it became a cane once more. The tip tapped against the wooden floor as she made her way down the hall, calling over her shoulder as she went, "And sweet Sayre fix his damned socks!"

Iliana chuckled softly and shook her head as her sister vanished into the back of the apartment.

"She doesn't like me," Credence murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"She doesn't dislike you," Iliana assured him, patting the back of the hand she was still holding onto. Credence was a little shocked about that honestly, given how battered and ugly that hand was. "She just doesn't like being woken up, especially like this. If you'd showed up at a reasonable hour, she'd have probably made you tea once I explained."

Credence winced. "I know it's late-"

"Technically it's early," Iliana cut him off. "But that doesn't matter." She turned a bit, angling her knees towards him, and tilted her head curiously. Credence stared at her, taking her in fully for the first time. She'd clearly been woken up too. Her hair was in a braid, like her sister, but several strands had come loose to hang around her face, giving her a soft, intimate look. Her nightgown was a blue so pale it was almost grey, but it brought out her eyes beautifully. There were thin, worn slippers on her feet with delicate embroidery across the toes. She was a vision, like one of those old paintings he'd seen on a flyer for a museum once.

"Would you like some tea?" Iliana asked him gently, and Credence shook his head.

"I don't want to be more of a bother..."

Iliana rolled her eyes and huffed. She smiled and waved a hand over her shoulder. Credence was able to watch as the kettle settled itself on the stove, presumably magically filled with water, and began to heat.

"Little household things like that aren't anything resembling a bother," she explained. "I think you could use a cup of tea before you..." She faltered.

Credence knew what she was going to say. Before he went back. He would have to go back to that hellhole where he'd been left on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Having seen this little slice of domesticity - Elvira's snappiness but willingness to help at a moment's notice, Iliana's tender hands and offers of tea - leaving it was almost physically painful. He felt an ache in his chest. His mind darted to his favorite fantasy, of himself and Iliana in domestic bliss. Sitting here it was easy to think that this was the home they shared, it made the dream more real than it had ever been before and Credence wanted it so badly.

"I went to MACUSA a few days ago," Iliana said softly as the kettle began to whistle. Another absent wave of her hand and it began to pour into two mugs on a tea tray. Credence's eyes drifted from the objects moving on their own to her.

"I don't know what that means," he admitted slowly.

"Magical Congress of the United States of America," she explained. "It's the magical government for this country. I spoke to a woman I know who work as an Auror - a policewoman."

Credence was slowly filing these new words away with what they meant, carefully building up his lexicon so that he could understand what she was saying when she spoke about her world - yet another thing between them that was secret and special.

"I asked her what happened if a magical child who had never been identified was left in an abusive No-Maj - non-magical - home," she continued as the tray settled itself on the table in front of them, cream and sugar sitting ready beside the mugs. Iliana ignored it, instead reaching out and taking his hands, both of them, between hers. "She said there was nothing they could do so long as the person was now over the age of majority."

Credence remained still staring at her. She was building up to something, he could feel it in her tone and in the swooping sensation in his stomach. He could almost guess what it was, too, but he hardly dared to hope.

"Why were you asking that?" he inquired softly, and Iliana scooted closer still so that she was pressed up against his side, like she was willing him to understand with her sheer closeness alone, and Credence was too selfish to tell her it wasn't appropriate for her to sit so close.

"Because I'm fairly certain you have magic, Credence," Iliana said softly, and Credence's breath wooshed out of him.

He knew what she'd been getting at but hadn't dared to believe it. The stories he'd told her from his childhood about silly children's things - crayons and stuffed toys - had meant more to her than they had to him. The curiosity, the desire he might have developed to explore those abilities, had been beaten out of him by Ma. And, really, that was the only thing that made him doubt her words.

"If I were magic, Ma wouldn't have been able to do this to me." Credence hated to say those words, hated how much they made him sound like a victim. Men weren't supposed to get beat up by women, and they weren't supposed to hit women. That was how it was meant to be, but somehow Credence was so twisted and backward and wrong that the tables had turned and Ma had beaten him down for years. He was... weak. Barely a man at all, really.

"Oh Credence," Iliana breathed. He didn't look up at her, couldn't, and so she took it upon herself to make him, reaching up and sliding soft fingers under his chin, lifting his face to look at her. "Magic isn't a cure for everything. It can do a lot, can spare us from a lot, but without proper training it would be like expecting... expecting someone who could be a crack shot one day to pick up a gun every few months and hit the bullseye every few times. They might manage it but it would be dumb luck."

"That's why I doubted when..." Credence stopped himself, because the man had told him not to say.

"When what?" Iliana asked lightly.

But it was Iliana and he couldn't deny her anything. "A man found me after a rally two days ago. He had a switch like yours. He did magic. He told me he'd seen visions, a very powerful child close to Ma who would help better... your world." He couldn't quite bring himself to say 'the wizarding world' as the man had. He still half-feared Ma would somehow sense him talking magic and swoop down on him. "He said that if I helped him he could give me magic. Said I'd never have to deal with Ma again."

"Give you magic?" Iliana frowned. "No one can be given magic, either you're born with it or you're not. You are... Perhaps he knew that somehow and was speaking metaphorically? If he truly were a Seer I suppose it's possible he could have had a vision of some future where he saw you doing magic. But a powerful child destined to better the world, that sounds dangerously close to a prophecy and those are far rarer and more finicky than your standard divinations..."

Credence head spun as Iliana's eyes clouded with thought and she seemed to drift, muttering to herself as her brilliant mind untangled the knots of what he'd said. It stunned him that not only was she taking him seriously, but apparently this wasn't even odd to her. It was just an accepted part of her world that people could predict the future or make prophecies or whatever else.

"C-Can you?" Credence asked, hesitant to interrupt her ongoing spiel. Her eyes snapped back to alertness and lingered on him.

"Can I what?"

"Predict... things?"

Iliana chuckled. "Yes, to an extent. There are standard ways to read things like the stars or tea leaves or palms and I know them, but the Sight is a rare gift. According to journals our great-great-great-great uncle Gudbrand was a Seer, but being a Blödgarmr meant that no one took him seriously when he made predictions."

She frowned. "This man concerns me though. Reaching out to you as a No-Maj would be illegal, but if he knew you were magical... he might have had good intentions, but then, if he did, why not go ahead and offer to teach you while you looked for this theoretical Messiah."

"His name was Graves," Credence offered, and Iliana tilted her head.

"First or last?"

"I... don't know."

"Hm. Well the only Graves I know is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement so I think we can safely say it wasn't him. I don't like it Credence, not one bit." She shook her head firmly. "I think your best course of action is to play along and do what he wants. If you see something helpful, tell him, but for the love of all that's magical be careful. I'd... well, I'd be quite distraught if something happened to you," she finished quietly, and for once she was the one averting her eyes with a warm flush to her cheeks.

For just a brief, beautiful moment Credence allowed himself to hope. Hope that maybe his feelings were returned, maybe she cared for him as deeply as he cared for her. Hope that maybe she too dreamed of a future with the two of them together in it. Hope that, God willing, maybe his deepest fantasy of the two of them in their own place like this could become a reality. But then reality, the fickle mistress that it was, crashed down on him and he understood that no, that wasn't going to happen. There was too much between them, they were too different.

But maybe... maybe not so different.

"But if he can teach me to do magic...?" Credence trailed off, because it sounded amazing. He wanted it so desperately, to be able to wave his hand the way Iliana and her sister did and make things happen. Ma would never be able to touch him again. He could just be in another place if he wished it, Iliana had said. He could predict the future. He could make potions like that purple-brown hot chocolate stuff that Elvira had made him drink. He could lay his hands on Iliana if she was hurt and for once make her feel better instead of it being the other way around. He could do so many things.

Iliana's face was set and her eyes were glowing. She shook her head firmly, the loose strands of hair around her face dancing with the motion. "He's not going to be teaching you magic, Credence."

He crumbled. Why would she deny him this? "Why-?"

Iliana leaned forward, hands sliding up so that they were laid alongside his throat, her thumb framing his jaw. Her expression was intense, focused, and determined as she stared into his eyes, into his soul. "Because I want that honor, thank you very much, and I got to you first," she said, and for all the forcefulness in her voice there was also a soft hint of affection to it in the way the corners of her mouth turned up.

Credence's eyes widened. Magic lessons with Iliana... could there be anything more perfect? Hm, perhaps the way her hands were holding him so gently... "You would do that?" he breathed, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching up, his hands curling around her wrists. "You would teach me?"

"You have to understand that I don't have a formal education myself," Iliana admitted.

"But you're brilliant!"

She chuckled. "Thank you, you're right. But yes, Credence, I would love to teach you magic. Perhaps it'll save me from getting tossed in anymore fountains."

Credence winced. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, that's alright, darling, it didn't hurt," Iliana assured him, and one thumb stroked a smooth arch along his jaw before her hands pulled away. She winked. "I'm made of much tougher stuff than you might think. And it's even a good thing - that was what showed me you had magic, what brought me here."

As much as Credence didn't like the idea of anything hurting Iliana, at all, ever, he couldn't deny that he fully supported anything that had brought him to this moment, with the pair of them pressed together on her couch in the firelight, not an ache in his body, trading whispers of magic.

I've have a couple of questions about the ages of the sisters so I'd like to address that quickly. Elvira and her sister are roughly a decade apart in age, I've never been more specific than that. For a little more context, we have a rough estimate on Credence's age being about 25 in the first movie and Newt is almost 31. At the time that the story takes place, Iliana is in the late teens-early twenties and Elvira in her late-twenties-early thirties. I didn't want there to be a particularly massive age gap between them and their respective pairing partners. Though, for some reason I do imagine Elvira being a bit younger than Newt. When I began this story we had no real information on Credence's age so I placed him as early twenties, assuming that, had he been much older, he might have found it in him to simply run away.