"Yet another boring day at the office," Jacques said cheerfully, as soon as she walked into the room.

She didn't know what surprised her more: the fact that he was present at their office or that he chose to start a conversation with her. After few days of constantly avoiding her and walking out of every place where he noticed her, it certainly felt surprisingly refreshing.

"Nothing about today's boring," Clarisse answered dryly and plopped down onto her chair, closing her eyes with annoyance.

Was she supposed to address his weird and hurtful behaviour? Or simply ignore it and write it off as 'bad days'? Hell if she knew. Having only one friend did nothing to help her social skills.

"Why is that?"

"Well, for instance, I'm waiting for Finley to get back from the visit at my mom's house, who, by the way, humiliated me once again. He's bound to bring some information. I guess."

"Wait, what? What happened?"

"You'd know if you haven't been avoiding me," she muttered in response and opened her eyes, facing his guilty expression.

"I haven't been avoiding you!" Jacques protested and scratched his head. "I've been just..." he broke off, seeing her anger and sighed. "Fine, I was avoiding you. I just realised something and needed to have some space."

"Great. I hope it worked out for you."

Riss knew she shouldn't be mad at Jacques. They weren't joined at the hip, after all. Still, wasn't that how friendship was supposed to work? Friends supported each other in tough situations and visiting her mother had been helluva lot tougher than she'd anticipated. She could use a friendly face to talk to. And if he had his own problems, why did he choose to go through them alone? She could have helped him as well!

"It didn't actually. Which is why I really need to talk to you about something."

Oh, so now he wanted her help? How nice of him.

"Sorry, not in the mood," she said and rubbed her forehead. "Not until Finley gets back anyway. I don't think I can focus on anything else than the possibility of him talking crap about me to my mother."

Jacques fell silent for a moment and then sighed, clearly agreeing to her request, albeit reluctantly.

"Why aren't you with him?"

"I was. But then my mother started to talk bullshit about him being my boyfriend and..." she stopped herself before she could have mentioned that damned nightmare situation. Telling Jacques about sleeping in the same bed as the annoying Irishman didn't seem like a particularly good idea.

"And?"

"And other stuff." Clarisse waved her hand dismissively. "She's still pissed at me for yelling at her and she wants to punish me for it. Unfortunately, out of all people who could have witness that, it had to be Finley."

Jacques frowned and looked like he really wanted to say something. His inner debate was as clear as sunshine and Clarisse found herself unable to simply ignore it. She sighed and moved closer to the desk.

"Speak up, Colbert. I may be mad at you, but apparently this is the time, when I ignore my own feelings in order to help you."

Jacques smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which was really weird for him. His smile always lit up his entire face, making the room instantly brighter and warmer.

"You like him, don't you?" he said quietly and Clarisse frowned, completely baffled.

"Finley? Hell no," she answered after the initial surprise had subsided. Why would he even think so?

"Clarie, you don't have to lie to me," Jacques whispered and scowled. "If you do like him, it's fine. I can't understand it, but I can't really force you to change your mind."

"But I'm not lying! He's arrogant, annoying and incredibly disrespectful!"

"So are you and I still like you," he answered and Clarisse shut her mouth immediately. "Probably more than I should."

His voice was full of sadness, even though he tried to supress it as best as he could. He avoided her gaze, staring at his hands with suspicious interest. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked almost sick. What made this situation even worse, was the fact that she must have looked equally bad.

"Jacques..." she muttered, without the intentions of continuing her speech. What did people say in situations like this one?

Was she supposed to thank him? To prod further and force the entire confession out of him? Ignoring it altogether didn't seem like an option either, which left her completely stunned and unable to make a move.

"We're friends, Jacques," she finally stuttered, after a moment of heavy, tensed silence. "Partners."

"Yes. We're good together," he said and smiled crookedly. "We're so good that it was rather hard not to start... feeling things."

She blinked a couple of times, hoping for this entire situation to go away. Confronting her own deeper feelings had never been easy, not for her anyway. But confronting them under such pressure? In that moment, it seemed completely impossible.

Just like during his visit in her house, she found herself thinking about actually giving them a shot. What would it feel like to be with him, rather than next to him? What would it feel like to kiss him out of her own volition and not because of some undercover mission?

Jacques was perfect in many different ways. He understood her, he never wanted her to change. There would be no demands and ultimatums regarding their professional lives, as they both knew their aspirations and supported each other. Jacques would care for her, make her feel relatively normal and wanted. It sounded like a dream come true, didn't it? Or at least, it should sound that way.

"You're like a wild fire, Clarie," he whispered, forcing her to stop her musings and focus her attention on him. "You have a temper that can burn everyone around in an instant. People get scared by you easily, because they're unable to understand it. But I do. Your fire has never burnt me. I guess you could say that I'm drawn to you, like a moth to a flame," he laughed, but the sound lacked any humour. "But I know that it doesn't matter. Because you don't feel the same way about me."

Clarisse hadn't felt this bad for a very long time. Actually, she had troubles remembering even one single moment, when her heart ached with such guilt and anger. She had never wanted to hurt him. Not him, not her best friend. Yet, his eyes, filled with sadness and longing told her that she had managed to do it anyway.

"I... I don't know what I feel, Jacques." Her quiet response was true to a certain degree. She really didn't know how to approach this entire situation. Romance had never been her area of expertise; it confused her and made her somewhat scared. Scared of being dependant on someone else, scared of being chained and suffocated.

Clarisse had pushed away any thoughts of getting involved with someone. She didn't need them on daily basis, so she chose to completely ignore them, hoping that maybe they would still be there once she became ready to face them. But they weren't there; her inner turmoil regarding Jacques' confession had nothing to do with the way she felt. She simply started to analyse the possibility of their relationship, making it cold and logical, when it should have been anything, but that.

"I believe you, Clarie," Jacques answered and sighed. "But it only proves my point. Because if you loved me back, you would know."

There. He said it and now there was no going back. Clarisse felt shivers running down her spine, but they were hardly a sign of excitement after hearing such a beautiful confession. They were a sign of fear; fear of losing her only friend, fear of loneliness. She knew that it had nothing to do with requiting his own feelings and it made her feel like a raging bitch.

"I've never been in love, Jacques. How would I know, if I've never felt it before?" she asked, trying to do something to fix this situation, but she knew it was just the desperation talking.

"Trust me, you'd know, Clarie," he answered and met her gaze. "I can't blame you for not wanting me. After all, I fell for that one girl, who has never understood the allure of romance. You don't even let anyone befriend you, so I should probably be grateful for that, huh?"

He was broken. Irony didn't suit him, nor did that haunted look in his brown, warm eyes. She broke him. And she did it without even trying to.

"Jacques..." Clarisse started and then bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The pain did nothing to help her find the right words. "I'm..."

"Don't apologise," he interrupted her and shook his head. "You should never apologise for your own feelings, or the lack of them in this case. I just wish you'd stop being so afraid of letting yourself fall. Getting hurt is terrible, but... You get over it. I'll get over it."

He stood up and left the room, before she could have gathered her thoughts. She wanted to call for him, to make him turn and stay with her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. What good would it do? Jacques didn't deserve being lied to, being deceived by her empty words. That was all she could offer him, after all.

She chose this life. Life of a loner, who didn't care about others. They could hate her, call her names and it still would do nothing to break her solid walls. And until now, Clarisse was completely fine with it. Being alone meant that she wouldn't get abandoned ever again, that she wouldn't have to suffer through all the pain.

Until now, she had really believed it. But when Jacques left the room, she understood how wrong she was. Because it still hurt. It hurt like hell.


Clarisse came home only to find Finley sitting on her couch, just like this morning. He was reading the same book, his gaze completely focused on the text in front of him. Normally, she would have yelled at him or said something mean, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Riss walked up to the couch and plopped down on it. Finley looked at her immediately and she didn't have to meet his gaze to know that his face showed nothing, but worry.

"Clarisse? Are you alright?"

"Yes. I'm always alright," she said and shrugged. Her voice sounded completely void of all the emotions, which surprised her greatly. Riss halfway expected to burst into tears, as soon as she had opened her mouth. She kind of wanted to do so, but there was no way in hell she'd do that in front of Aedan.

"And I'm the Minister for Magic." The Irishman rolled his eyes and closed the book with a quiet thump. "You stormed out of your mother's house, looking positively furious, and you didn't even try to throw me out of here. You're clearly not okay."

"Whatever," she said and closed her eyes. She wanted to simply drift off to sleep, so she wouldn't have to face the reality, which suddenly started to look even gloomier.

Clarisse knew though, that the man sitting right beside her wouldn't just let her be. Aedan Finley tended to be mean and annoying, but it seemed that he really wasn't heartless. Maybe he simply considered Clarisse to be another damsel in distress? She didn't know what stood behind his sudden change of heart, but he really started to treat her differently. Unfortunately, it meant that there was no easy way to get rid of him.

"How did it go with my mother?" she asked, completely ignoring his observations.

"I have no bloody idea. It's hard to tell if she'd told me everything she knew," Aedan answered, still looking at Clarisse with caution.

"Probably not. It's my mother we're talking about," she snorted and shook her head. "But what did she tell you?"

"She doesn't seem to know much about the Ancient Magic, or those creatures. Well, she has a feeling that something bad is coming, something that terrifies her, but... Uh, it's not very legit. We cannot exactly walk around asking people if they had sensed something terrible in their vicinity," he said with amusement. "She does know our French victims though."

Clarisse glanced at him for the first time since she had sat down on the couch. Her stomach clenched, when she realised that their theory about the victims being Oracles had just been confirmed. How else would her mother know them?

"Shit," she said and Finley smirked.

"Shit indeed. But at least we know what to look for. We have a connection between those woman, which is more than we've had since the first murder occurred."

"Yeah, but we still have no idea who kills them."

"Actually, your mother said something about this Muggle club here in Paris," Finley said. "A club for people with gifts. Most of the clientele is, obviously, delusional, but apparently some of the real Seers go there, just for fun. Maybe it would be a good idea to check if the victims were one of those people."

Clarisse had to admit that this idea made a lot of sense. Even with all the knowledge about the Ancient Magic, the killer had to find his Oracles somewhere.

"Sounds like a plan," she said and Aedan sighed tiredly.

"I've already told Auror Deschamps all about it. He'll come up with the best possible approach."

Riss wanted to groan out loud, realising that she would be the one sent to the club. First of all, she had a pretty good sense of how the Seers behaved and secondly, there was always the possibility that she met the killer's expectations. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Deschamps would want to use her to possibly lure him out.

"Great," she muttered quietly and then scowled when another realisation hit her. She would have to go to the club without her partner. Jacques wasn't a part of their team, but after today, she doubted that they could go on missions together ever again.

All of her negative thoughts returned with doubled force, almost knocking the breath out of her lungs. Why did she have to screw everything up? Why did she have to hurt him, instead of just paying attention for once in her life? The more she thought about it, the more aware of the signs she had become; the way he looked at her, when she smiled, the way his touches lingered on her skin sometimes... Clarisse was ignorant enough to miss all of them, or to brush them off as irrelevant. She did nothing to stop him from falling in love with her. She did nothing to even try to love him back.

"Riss... What happened?" Finley asked quietly and she felt tears pricking her eyes.

For fuck's sake, she couldn't start crying in front of him. How pathetic would that be?!

"Not your business, Finley." Her voice didn't sound aggressive, or even harsh, like she wanted it to. She sounded broken and it made her feel even worse.

I just wish you'd stop being so afraid of letting yourself fall. Jacques words replayed in her head and fear started to seize control over her mind. She wasn't weak. She couldn't be. Clarisse Bouchard didn't cry over some feelings, she didn't break because of loneliness. That's what she promised to herself, a long time ago. Breaking that promise was not an option.

"Why are you so determined to constantly push me away? To push everyone away? It doesn't make you badass, Clarisse. It just makes you stupid." Finley's response made her gasp for air. Her shields began to crumble and tears started to flow down her face, despite her efforts to stop them.

"I'm not stupid," she managed to choke out, clenching her fists so hard, that her nails started to dig into her skin, but the physical pain did nothing to ease the one eating up her heart. "I just... I just can't..."

"Can't what?" Aedan's voice sounded from such a close distance that she immediately looked at him.

His brown eyes were filled with worry and agitation, making her heart speed up its pace. They looked so similar to Jacques' and yet so different. They reminded her of liquid chocolate, rich and sweet in taste. The emotions so clearly visible in those irises did nothing to help her get a grip over her own feelings though.

"I can't let myself fall, Aedan," she finally answered and bit her lip.

To her surprise, he didn't ask about the meaning of her words. He stared at her face with his lips parted, until he finally sighed and put his hands over her shoulders, pulling her closer. She didn't know why, but she let him hold her and caress her hair, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His scent and warmth radiating from his body managed to get rid of some of the coldness she felt, helping Clarisse to find some of her lost strength.

"I don't know what's happened to me," she muttered into his shirt. "My life started to resemble chaos and everything I do only makes things worse. I fucked everything up, Aedan."

"Is it about your mother?"

"No. Yes," she laughed humourlessly. "It's about everything. It's about me being a raging bitch, who doesn't care about anyone's feelings. It's about my mother, who doesn't care about my feelings. It's about the fact that I've spent my entire life trying to detach myself from emotions, only to find out that it doesn't really work."

Aedan didn't answer, but his embrace tightened a bit, making her let out a shaky breath. Suddenly, she realised that telling him everything didn't sound so bad anymore.

"Jacques told me he loved me," she confessed quietly and felt him stiffen. "And I didn't even notice. I hurt him, when he was the only person who wanted to be friends with me. Eventually, I treated him the same way I've treated everyone else who attempted to get closer. He didn't deserve that, Aedan. No one did, but I couldn't care less. Because it didn't matter, as long as I wasn't the one hurt and abandoned."

Finley sighed into her hair and slowly released her from his embrace. He didn't move away completely, taking her face into his hands and gazing deep into her eyes.

"It's never too late to change."

"But I can't! I let myself care for him, I let myself become friends with him and look where it got me! I broke his heart and he abandoned me. And it was my fault! Just like before..." she whispered and closed her eyes, not wanting him to see her haunted gaze.

"What happened before, Clarie? What was so terrible to break you?"

She fell silent for a moment, desperately trying to find the right words. They didn't come, so she simply opened her eyes and offered him a crooked smile.

"Everything, Aedan. My father went missing when I was a child, leaving me with my mother, who could never be bothered with my dreams and aspirations. All she cared for was that gift. I started to hate everything about it, because I knew that without it, my mother wouldn't give a shit about me. My life turned into a constant fight, constant struggle to find my place in the world. And at some point, all that resentment and pain became too much to handle. I didn't want to care anymore, because caring hurt."

"What about Jacques? Why did you change your mind for him?"

"I didn't," she admitted quietly and averted her gaze. "He was just constantly there, so I stopped fighting it. He slithered into my life and I simply accepted it, without giving it much thought. I was foolish enough to think that it wouldn't change this much, that if he decided to leave, I'd still be alright. And he never seemed to be bothered by my choices. Until I decided to hurt him."

"You didn't decide, Clarisse. You can't simply decide to love someone. It sort of happens."

"How would I know? The only person I've ever loved disappeared years ago."

"Your mother's still here," he noticed and smiled gently. Clarisse snorted in response, not sure if her feelings towards her mother were even remotely similar to love. "Her behaviour wouldn't affect you this much, if you didn't love her. You're not a machine, you know? You can pretend that you don't feel, that you're like a rock, but the sooner you accept that it's one huge lie, the easier it will be to actually learn how to deal with those buried emotions."

"What if I don't want to deal with them? What if I cannot take being abandoned once more?" she whispered in response and felt Finley caress her face gently.

"Then those emotions will kill you, Clarie. And I don't mean it in a physical sense. You'll slowly hate yourself more and more, until you won't be able to take it."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because my father did that. He dedicated himself to his work. He's seen so much evil and suffering that he decided to push away his own family, so we wouldn't have to deal with those horrors. He kept everything buried inside, becoming colder and colder, until he started to hate himself so much that he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror," he said and forced her to meet his gaze yet again. "Don't do this, Clarie. Because the only thing that's worse than being hurt by someone is the knowledge that you destroyed yourself."