Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to update! I've been caught up with lots of other things. Hopefully you all enjoy this installment :)

Chapter 13

Indira sat on the top step, leaning against the wall. People walked in and out of the Institute, passing her and not speaking. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall, pointing in that direction but not actually looking; she was somewhere else, somewhere far away. In a world where nobody had to die, where nothing had to hurt, where nothing went wrong. It was a nice world, a quiet, comfortable, safe one. Indira wanted to wrap herself in it and never return. But her thoughts were shattered by someone sitting down on the step below her.

"Are you okay?" Robert asked, his head tilted up to look at her.

Indira turned slowly and whispered, "do I seem okay?"

"Can I get you anything?" Robert said, moving closer protectively. "Is there anyone you want to talk to?"

"No." Indira replied quietly. "I don't want to speak to anyone."

She stressed the last word, something that Robert didn't miss.

"I'm not leaving you." he stated resolutely.

"Please do." Indira said, a pathetic desperation in her voice.

"You've been left alone too long already." Robert shook his head. "It's not good for you."

"Please, don't try to be my doctor." Indira said. "My friend has just been killed. I'll decide what is and isn't good."

"She was my friend too." Robert reminded her. "And I'm just as sad. But sitting on the stairs feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to help her."

"You don't understand." Indira snapped.

"I'm not sure I do." Robert said coldly. "Because the woman I know would want to do something to help her friend and make sure no one else has to be hurt. The woman I know would realize that this is so much bigger than just her."

He realized how harsh he sounded as soon as the words came out. He regretted them almost instantly, as Indira stood up and walked quickly inside, tears starting to run down her face. With a monumental sigh, Robert put his head in his hands; making things worse had not been his intention.

"What was that about?" Minerva asked.

She had been standing with Agent Hotchner, discussing the time window that the murderer had, but had made her way over to her brother. Robert ran his hands through his hair.

"Just me, making an already volatile situation even more so. I said some things that didn't go down too well."

"Actually, I heard." Minerva said, sitting down next to him.

"Then what do you want, Minerva?" he sighed.

"You obviously care for Indira very much." she said. "And it is obvious, so don't deny it."

"I wasn't going to." Robert muttered.

"I bring up your, eh, feelings, because, less obviously, I think she also cares for you a great deal."

"Your point, sister dearest?" Robert said.

"My point, Robert," Minerva said, a little annoyed, "is that she has to talk to someone. And she'll talk to you if you try."

"I tried!" Robert exclaimed.

"Then try again!" Minerva said sternly. "You're the person she trusts the most, despite what you think. You love her, Robert. Maybe it's time to let her see that."

The two McGonagall siblings sat in silence for a while, perhaps letting the words sink in.

"Why are you doing this?" Robert asked, not accusingly, just a bit curious. "You hate feelings."

"Hate feelings!" Minerva scoffed. "You make me sound so callous."

"Do you like feelings?" her brother said in surprise.

"Well, no, not really." Minerva admitted. "But you're my brother. Shouldn't I want you to be happy?"

"That's awfully nice of you."

"Also I realise that Indira, and yourself for that matter, are more useful to the cause if you aren't wallowing in self pity."

"Okay, that's less nice." Robert laughed.

He watched his sister as she sat, looking at her properly for the first time since she had arrived; the severe bun, the sharp line of her chin, the dark blue gaze that they shared. Time had changed her, changed them both. If he thought back far enough, he could recall a girl, never really little, but one that laughed and sang and ran and danced. Did she dance now? He doubted it. Minnie was a dancer, Minerva was not.

"I'm glad you're here." Robert said.

Minerva smiled, a little bitterly.

"I'm not. Not with everything that's happened."

She laid a hand on her brother's.

"But I'm glad I can be here for you. Now, go and see Indira."

Robert pushed the door to Indira's office open a little tentatively. The witch was sitting in the large swivel chair behind her desk, staring at the ceiling. As the door was opened, she snapped her head forward, her eyes glistening as she held back tears. Robert shuffled in. He stood before the desk, as if he were a misbehaving student, looking at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Robert said quickly, breaking the silence that threatened to swallow them both.

Indira looked at him, her tilted in confusion, her lips pursed. Then she looked back at the desk and began to cry. A small part of Robert wanted to turn and run while he could, to get away from the bomb that was ticking faster and faster. A large majority of him wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to never let her go and reassure it would be okay. But, if he was nothing else, Robert McGonagall was a gentleman. He simply went over to her and knelt down.

"Indira," he said softly, "it's going to get better. I promise."

Indira ran her sleeve across her eyes and then stood up, pacing the room.

"No, no it's not." she cried, her voice hoarse. "A woman is dead. A young, intelligent, talented woman who had such a bright future ahead of her. She just got back from her honeymoon, a few weeks ago. She was telling me that she and her husband had just bought an apartment in town. She was moving in next weekend. And now she won't, because she's dead and it's all my fault!"

Robert sighed and walked to her. He caught hold of her elbows and, though she resisted, he forced her to stop pacing before wrapping his arms around her body. There she stood, shivering and crying, as he stroked her greying-blonde hair.

"Indira, this is nobody's fault." he said calmly.

"I left her there." Indira whispered. "I shouldn't have left her there."

"You couldn't have known." Robert said firmly. "You can't blame yourself for this. It's horrible and sad and we all wish it hadn't happened. But beating yourself up isn't going to undo it. All it will do is drag everyone further apart, when we need to be coming together. You're not to blame, Indira. No one is."

They stood together for what seemed like an eternity. Robert continued to smooth out Indira's hair, until her breath had evened out. Her head rested against his chest and he knew she must be able to hear his heart, pounding quickly, because he could certainly feel it.

"Someone needs to call her husband." Indira said, slowly raising her head up.

"Maybe it would be best to wait till morning." Robert replied. "When we've all had time to think."

Indira nodded.

"Thank you." she said, reaching up and gently kissing him on the cheek.

"It's fine." he said, catching her hand and giving it a squeeze.

At that moment, the door to the office was flung open. It was Septima, looking pale and out of breath.

"You have to come quickly!" she gasped. "They've found another body."