Chapter 27 – This Is It

Remus had barely left the hospital in the past six days. It had been Tuesday when they'd brought his mum in with excruciating pain in her chest and trouble breathing. Since then time seemed to have passed strangely, with minutes ticking by too slowly, or whole hours passing without Remus even noticing or moving from his chair. The doctor had told them in no uncertain terms that the drugs she'd been prescribed, the ones that had kept her alive this long, had finally been beaten by her illness. It was very unlikely she'd recover enough to leave the hospital - "this is it," the doctor had told them sadly, shuffling his clipboard and turning away before Remus or his father really had time to process the news at all.

Since then, his mum had become increasingly incomprehensible due to her breathing, her words coming out in short gasps that were hard to understand and even harder to watch, when only a few weeks ago they'd had long conversations about Remus' plans for the summer and his school work.

Worse, though, was when she stopped talking. Just over a day ago, she had slipped into unconsciousness and hadn't woken up since. Remus' dad had told him to say goodbye, but he hadn't. What was the point when she wasn't there to hear him?

Visiting hours were supposed to be 2-6pm, but it was different when someone was dying; their family were allowed to be there at all hours, just so they didn't miss the moment when their loved one finally slipped away.

Remus didn't really want to be there when that happened, but he also didn't feel like he could leave. He was tied to his mum by a cord that got tighter the further away he got, pulling him back when it grew taut. It would almost be a relief when that cord snapped. Until then they existed in stasis, sleeping on waiting room chairs and eating nothing but dry sandwiches.

His dad had alternated between sitting by her hospital bed and roaming the corridors. He and Remus had managed to avoid being in the same room as each other for an astonishing amount of time over the past few days, so Remus was surprised when his Dad came and sat next to him on one of the hard chairs in the corridor.

Lyall Lupin drew his palms up over his face and through his tangled hair. There was several days' worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and the skin around his eyes was sagging.

"You okay?" Remus asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, then laughed under his breath. "Why aren't I the one asking you that? You're handling this better than I am. I'm the parent, I should be helping you get through this, but…"

He trailed off, looking down at his hands with the peeling skin around the nails, clasped on top of the trousers he'd been wearing all week.

"We're helping each other," Remus said after a moment, though they both knew this was a lie. His dad had always been dependent on his mum, but he'd never depended on Remus. And Remus had long since learnt not to need his dad.

"How are those friends of yours?" Lyall asked. "I never thought about it, but you haven't seen them since your holiday. Bet you miss them."

"Yeah," Remus said, though the truth was he was glad they weren't there. When he was with his friends, he felt like part of a group – a cog in a machine – but right now he needed to just be Remus, to be his mother's son. Hospitals, for all their glass walls and open doors, were immensely private places.

"I'm glad your friends understand about your…your condition." Remus tensed. His dad never - never - talked about him being a werewolf. Every full moon, he would be away on business trips that Remus was sure he'd scheduled precisely for the purpose of missing the transformation. It was one of the few things he'd heard his parents argue about. "I know I've never been very supportive," his dad continued, "I know your mother was the one…" He sighed heavily. "I'm just glad they're there for you."

"Yeah. Me too."

A lift further down the corridor a lift pinged open and a hospital bed with an old man in it was wheeled along by a nurse who chatted cheerfully about hospital food not being so bad and trying new drugs and being optimistic. Remus wondered what that old man was here for, whether he too would never leave this hospital.

"Strange place, isn't it?" his dad muttered. "Muggle hospitals have always seemed wrong. So white and sterile. And serious as hell. Feels like everyone has come here to die."

Remus understood why his dad was put off by the constant beeping of machines and the endless identical wards and corridors, but he didn't point out that wizard hospitals only had the privilege of being moderately cheerful because almost everything could be cured by magic. In muggle hospitals, even if you could be cured, it would be a long and hard journey – nothing was fixed as easily as with a potion or a spell. And Remus had always found St Mungo's to be just as bad as any muggle hospital, probably because he himself was incurable.

"We should never have brought her here," Lyall said roughly. "I know it's what she wanted, but what if these bastard doctors were wrong about her condition? What if it wasn't fatal and if we'd taken her to St Mungo's… what if we didn't give her the only chance she had to get better?"

"Dad…it's cancer. Wizards can't cure cancer."

"Well maybe they could have," he said, his voice getting louder and a tear dropping onto his knee. "Maybe if we'd-"

"Dad. Don't." Remus' throat suddenly felt raw and he had to swallow before saying anything more. "Just…there was nothing we could do, okay?"

Lyall's expression hardened in a way that made Remus flinch, but then his anger dropped away and he held his head in his hands. "Remus…I don't know what I'm doing. What are we going to do without her? How are we going to-" He broke off with a harsh breath that might have been a sob.

"I don't know, Dad. We'll just…we'll manage. I'll take care of the housework," he said, trying to think about the practicalities, wanting to pretend just for a minute that their problems were as simple as unfinished chores. "While I'm home for summer I can cook and stuff. It'll be the same as it's been since Mum got ill." This, too, was a lie. It wouldn't be the same. There would be the bedroom where she'd been bedridden for so long, where his dad would now sleep alone, and there would be the bathroom with her bottles of strawberry shampoo that they'd have to throw away, and there would be the chair by the fireplace that had always been hers, where Remus was sure no one would ever sit again. Nothing would be the same – nothing at all.

His dad looked up, his face red and blotchy. "You're a good kid, Remus. I know we don't talk enough – we've never talked enough – but I…" He didn't seem to know how to finish this sentence, so he shook his head and repeated, "You're a good kid."

Remus got up not long after this to stretch his legs, leaving his father in the corridor, he found himself in another of the endless small waiting rooms. Despite having only walked for a few minutes, he collapsed back down onto one of the plastic seats, focusing for no real reason on the wall and the broken clock that hung there with hands that didn't move. He didn't realise how much time had passed until a med student walked into the now-dark room and turned on the light.

The med student's name was Chase Roberts, but Remus forgot this repeatedly and thought of him only as Blond Med Student, mostly because every time he saw him he was struck by his very blond, very sculpted hair that made him look like he belonged in the Weird Sisters. Blond Med Student asked Remus when he'd last eaten or drank something, to which Remus replied honestly that he couldn't remember, so he agreed to head down to the cafeteria.

It was much too bright there, with fluorescent lights above them that were harsh compared to the firelight wizards used. They sat down at a rickety table together, but barely thirty seconds later Blond Med Student rose again, looking at him in concern. "I don't know what they'll have considering it's so late, but I'll go and have a gander. Any preferences?"

Remus shrugged his shoulders, not entirely sure why the man was so fussed about him, and began to pick at a corner of the wooden table that was exposed and splintered.

"Righto," Blond Med Student replied, then he crossed the dining hall to investigate the food counter on the other side of the room. The whole place smelt faintly of mushy peas, Remus noted; his mum always made brilliant peas - the only time he'd touch them in fact, when she cooked them with fresh fish from the supermarket and hand-cut chips.

The smell now made him feel faintly sick.

Chase returned after a few minutes carrying a tray with two paper cups of tea and two large muffins.

"They didn't have much in the way of nutrition I'm afraid," he shrugged as he sat back down. "Better than nothing though."

There was silence for a few moments while they both stirred sugar into their tea, and Remus started to unpeel the paper from the bottom of his muffin. Then Chase asked, "how's your mum doing?"

"They say she's not going to wake up," Remus replied, not meeting his gaze, still not really feeling like the words were real in his own head. He'd talked to the med student a handful of times over the last few days - he'd been a welcome presence really, someone who wasn't his father, or nurses who looked at him with pity. Chase just nodded and said sadly, "I'm sorry man, that's shit."

"Yeah," Remus replied. He took a moment to look up from his plate, and it was only then that he noticed how late it'd gotten - almost 11pm. "What are you still doing here?" Remus asked, "Don't you have to get up early? Or are you just winding me up when you complain about the horrible hours they have you working?"

"Eh," Chase shrugged again, shoving half of the muffin into his mouth, "thought you could do with the company, and to be honest I'm kind of wired - that sort of day."

"You didn't have to do that," Remus sighed, but when Chase only waved him away, he finally picked up the muffin and took the first bite of food he'd had in almost 12 hours. As soon as he bit into it his stomach rumbled appreciatively, but soon Remus was screwing up his face as he ate, staring once to the remaining muffin in his hand then to the med student in front of him.

"This has raisins in," he said, utterly disgusted.

"...yeah?"

"I hate raisins."

"Ah," Chase said, "sorry about that."

"To think I trusted you," Remus smiled, feeling for a second like he was quite happy to pretend that his biggest worry was fruit in places it shouldn't be.

"You'll have to catch me in the morning next time and I'll make sure to snatch you one of the chocolate ones," Chase laughed, then immediately paused when he saw the look on Remus' face. "Not that - obviously you don't want to be around here for long - not that I mean your mum doesn't – okay." He waved his hands vaguely in front of him and said "I've been up since 5," by way of explanation. "What I mean is you need to eat. Too many people whose family are ill don't take care of themselves and end up looking like they're the ones who need to be in the hospital."

"Yeah, I guess," Remus agreed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and out of place – the reality was back. The very obvious fact that he was in a hospital became almost overwhelming - the white walls, mint green linoleum floors and vague smell of antiseptic, even over the whiff of peas. His head ached with the claustrophobia of being stuck in the same place for so long, all the while being able to do nothing to help his mother.

"Are you okay?" Chase asked. "Maybe you should try to get some sleep."

Remus picked up his tea and held it between his hands for a minute, trying to calm down. "I'm fine," he started to say, but cut himself off before the words ever left his mouth.

Because Chase was no longer looking at him, but past him - he'd gone still and pale with his cup half way to his mouth and an expression that made Remus' immediately tense. It was with a sense of pure dread that Remus turned his head to find -

His father. He was pale, sickly looking and shaking, and when he reached them he grasped Remus' shoulder too hard with trembling hands, like if he didn't have something to hold onto he would collapse.

"Dad?" His voice came out a squeak.

"Remus," his dad replied, looking at the floor, "come back upstairs now, son." He seemed to compose himself slightly, managed to remove his grip from Remus' shoulder and look him in the eye. "Your mum - they don't think she's going to make it through the night - we have to - come on and see her - before she -"

"Dad," Remus said again. He didn't know what to do. All these months his dad has been almost unfeeling, refusing to believe his wife wouldn't get better, even angry about the whole thing. Now he was a wreck, and Remus didn't know he was crying until he felt his throat constrict with a sob, didn't know he was standing up until his dad's arm was around his waist, both of them moving automatically, leaving behind the temporary haven of Chase's company, not wanting to actually reach the hospital ward, not wanting to actually believe that this was happening.

But his legs kept moving. A friendly nurse patted him on the back as they passed. An alarm was going off somewhere far away, flashing red and angry while two doctors ran down the corridor towards it. So much was happening; all of it too fast and too hard, like the taste of metal in his mouth. And all Remus could think, even as he opened the door to the private room his mum was in, even as he took her unmoving hand in his, was that he didn't want to say goodbye.

James & Sirius,

I know you've been waiting for this letter because I said I'd write to you when it happened, so this is it. It's 3am right now, and she was pronounced dead just after midnight. God, I sound so...clinical, but I don't know how else I'm meant to sound. It's just...I've known this was coming for months and I imagined it over and over - I thought I'd cry or shout at someone or throw things but I'm just sitting on a one of these bloody awful chairs in an empty waiting room writing to you.

This is going to be the world's most goddamn depressing letter. I'm sorry. Well, I'm not. I know you'll want me to open up and all that, I just - I don't know how to tell you what I'm feeling because I don't even know what I'm feeling. Nothing feels real. It's like I've thought about it so much that I've made it abstract and there are so many imagined scenarios in my head that this one feels imaginary too. I just want it to sink in so I can at least feel something.

I don't know where my Dad is. I haven't since him since... since. He started crying with these really loud sobs and he kicked over a chair and punched a wall so hard he'd cracked the plaster and kept saying Mum's name over and over. Loads of people were staring at him when we went out into the corridor. His grief is so loud and so big and mine feels so small.

Maybe I'm in denial. That's meant to be the first stage of grief, right? It's like I know, intellectually, that she's dead, but I don't believe it. Does that make sense? Does any of this make sense?

I'm imagining you both reading this. It's weird. I feel like I'm talking to myself more than anything. I don't really expect you to reply. There's nothing you can say, really. It's just...it is what it is. And it's over now, anyway.

I could write to Peter too but I'm so tired. Not like I want to go to bed - I feel like I'll never sleep again. I'm just exhausted. Drained. It's been a long...I was going to say a long day, but that's not it, is it? A long everything. Month. Year. Life.

I'd better go find Dad. I'll send this when I'm home - muggle hospitals don't exactly have a great deal of owls. Hope all's well on your end. And really, don't reply to this. I'll see you on September 1st, okay? It can't come soon enough.

Remus

A/N: We hope you liked this chapter even though it was sad :( If you did, we'd love it if you could leave us a review to motivate us to write more!