Chapter 30 - Sometimes life is just a memory.
December 26, 2005

The room was crowded, too crowded, and the dress felt hot and clingy. That was her own fault. She'd chosen one with heavier fabric and long sleeves, hoping to hide her scars, really just hide all of her. It was louder than she'd expected, so many people talking and laughing. Noise didn't generally bother her, the kids at the farm were shouting and calling and laughing all the time. But this…this drone of noise was overwhelming. Deirdre fanned herself with her hand, trying to at least stir the air around her neck and face, wishing she'd never agreed to attend Harry's fundraising gala.

"You don't belong here," the voice behind her hissed.

She tried to turn around, to see who was talking, but whoever it was gripped her arms tightly, holding her in place. She looked down and saw clawed, scaly hands.

"You're just a bit of cheap, used flesh." A tongue swiped against her ear and she gasped, trying to pull away.

"Why are you trying to pretend you're like the rest of them? You're better suited to waiting on a street corner. There should be plenty of eager buyers after the ball is over. So much hot, sweating flesssssh…" The tongue swiped over her again, running down her cheek and neck.

She didn't feel hot anymore. She was cold, cold and shaking. Frozen as images bombarded her memory. Men gripping her arms, their tongues and hands ignoring her pleas, heavy bodies pressing her into the mattress. She couldn't breathe, couldn't force out a scream for help.

Then everything vanished and she was curled up on the ground. A gentle hand touched her forehead. "You're safe. It's gone. And it won't return."

Deirdre slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around her knees. She was still cold and shivering. Her tears were hot though, hot as they ran down her cheeks.

She was back in the strange empty, gray place. The shimmering, golden man sat beside her, mimicking her posture, just close enough for their shoulders to touch. He was warm and for a moment his voice and his smell reminded her of Alec. "This was a warning," he said softly. "You are a threat to everything she values. But you're not alone."

"Deirdre…Deirdre, wake up."

That voice. That voice was his, soft and safe. She sucked in a breath, desperate for air, and turned towards the voice, letting arms that were warm and gentle embrace her and chase away the ugly memories and the fear.

"Hey, you're okay. Shhh. It was just a bad dream."

There were more words, a river of tender, reassuring words that didn't require a response. Little by little the shaking stopped. She could breathe, could smell the pine boughs, the cinnamon sticks and oranges stuck with cloves that were scattered throughout the Christmas greenery.

Christmas. New York. They were in the dining hall, Ana and Colleen had asked for a werewolf slumber party before the groups split up for the rest of the holiday. She could hear Gareth's heartbeat under the soft jumper pressed against her cheek, his hands steady and gentle as they held her, rubbing small circles on her back.

When she felt fully awake and could breathe normally, she pulled away from him and sat up, pushing sweaty, tangled hair out of her face. "Sorry," she whispered, glancing around the room. It appeared dark and still, most of the fairy lights were out as the little creatures slept curled up among the ribboned pine branches, and only the low, smoldering fireplace dimly lit one end of the room. "Did anyone else wake up?"

Gareth shook his head. "Why don't we go to the kitchen and I'll make you some tea," he whispered back.

They tiptoed around the sleeping forms to the kitchen. Gareth cast a silencing spell, shut the door and shutters to the passthrough window, and turned on the lights before starting on the tea. It was soothing, his calm and steady movements, the sound of the water running, the light chink of cups being moved.

She sat down at the small, scarred wooden table, where generations of women had worked and talked and shared cups of tea. She wondered how many of them had worked at this table and spoken in hushed voices about the ugly parts of their lives. One in four, that's what the numbers said. When Deirdre had found Alec's pack, Circe was quick to recognize what she wasn't sharing, and had opened up about her own story. It helped Deirdre understand what was happening when anxiety popped up out of nowhere. She'd sit near a man on a bus and the smell of his cologne would make her want to vomit. A shop keeper would respond sharply and she'd freeze, unable to respond. Focusing on slow, deep breaths, Deirdre traced the knots in the old tabletop, running a finger along a series of nicks where it looked like an overzealous cook had run amok chopping vegetables.

Gareth silently set the teapot and cups on the table, along with a jug of milk, and then went back to the other counter and began rummaging through the assortment of biscuits and sweets from the past two days of holiday feasting. He set a plate of things down beside the teapot, then slid into the seat next to her and poured two cups of tea. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

His voice was so gentle. She didn't want to talk. She didn't even really want tea. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms, quiet and safe, pretending those other things had never happened. She pulled a cup of tea towards her and took a sip. "I think it was that creature from your dreams," she finally said. "Or something like it, I couldn't see it, only its…claws."

He raked a hand through his hair and muttered a curse. "So it's coming after you now?"

"I think it tried, but the man was there. He took me away from it and said it wouldn't return." She tried to say it lightly, like the thing was over and done.

But Gareth scooted his chair closer to her and reached out to tuck a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. "You were crying and shaking," he said softly. "What did it do to you?"

Ugh. I do not want to talk about this. He knew enough. Isabel and Ellie had dropped some hints years ago. He'd never asked for more details and she had never offered. "It, uh…grabbed my arms so I couldn't get away and…said stuff. And then…I guess it was like it launched a load of memories at me."

"Bad memories?"

"Yeah." She looked up at him, hoping her face wasn't a stiff mask of nothing, hoping he could see the pain and wouldn't push her for more.

Ugh. I do not want to talk about this. It made Gareth sick to think of what might have happened to Deirdre. And to think that some demonic beast would use it against her, force her to relive it. He reached out to touch her, run a hand over her arm, hold her hand, something that conveyed how he hurt for her and understood if she didn't want to say anything else. Or maybe that wasn't the right thing to do. Would it make her more uncomfortable to be touched? Did the way her held her or kiss her ever remind her of other men? He pulled back his hand at the last second.

"Don't do that," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "Don't second-guess touching me. It only makes what that thing said feel more true."

Gareth took a deep breath, anger vying with the nausea. He pulled her hands away from her face and held them, his thumb tracing over the end of a scar near her wrist. He was furious and so desperately sorry. Part of him wanted to know the names of each and every man she could remember so he could hunt them down and kill them himself. Part of him wanted to pretend nothing like that had happened, that they had both had sweet, normal childhoods and met each other on a rainy day at a coffee shop like those ridiculous movies Catherine liked to watch.

"I've done a lot of work, actually, trying to find some healing from my past," she said, pulling her hands away and reaching for her tea cup. "We had to take some classes, with our training, you know? And do a psych evaluation before we were licensed. And…well, Circe knew the signs. She was able to remove some of the worst memories." She'd slipped into that more professional tone of voice. Maybe it helped her to evaluate things more clinically, but it almost sounded cold. She hadn't physically put any distance between them, but it felt a little like she had.

He sat back in his chair and rubbed absently on the stubble over his chin. "What do you need from me, right now?" he asked, intentionally softening his voice and hoping she'd turn towards him instead of away from him.

"For you not to treat me like a fragile, broken doll."

Gareth doubted she had any idea how fragile she seemed. She was dressed for a werewolf slumber party in pajama pants and wearing his old blue sweater, her eyes were red and puffy, face tear streaked and hair tangled. She looked terrible and vulnerable, his beautiful and stubbornly fierce love. "I don't think you're broken," he said slowly. "But I want to be able to be there for you the way you were there for me, and I'm not sure what that should look like right now."

She stared at him for a long moment, then stood up from her chair, walked towards him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly, one hand gently stroking her hair.

"Right now it looks like this," she said, her voice muffled.

Artemis stumbled over a toy and bit back a curse, wondering why she was doing all the packing herself. Grams said the storm was due to start in the next couple hours, and would be a complete white out. She and Remus needed to walk out past the boundary line to be able to apparate away, and could hardly do that in a blizzard with three children. Where was that husband of hers? Probably reading with Ana somewhere. Those two were quite the pair, always trying to sneak off for a bit of quiet, losing themselves in a book. She swished her wand, adding the toy to one of the overflowing suitcases piled on the bed. Holidays. Sheesh. It had been a very fun visit with everyone, and she was sure the beach trip would be fun also, but neither was what she'd consider a holiday. Maybe now that Conor was a little older, she and Remus could manage a few days away over the summer, and ask Ellie and Kieran to keep the kids. Imagine — somewhere with no laundry to do, no dishes to wash, no fights to break up. That would be a real holiday.

"Hiya," Lina interrupted, sticking her head in the door. "Can we chat for a minute?"

"Sure. What's up?" Artemis said, shoving the last pair of shoes into the boys' case and shrinking it down.

"I'm going to change up all our plans," she said, making a face as she came in and dropped down into one of the small chairs by the front door.

Artemis came over and sat in the matching chair. "I think I've known you long enough to know you don't do anything without a good reason. What's the reason?"

"I could use the extra days to work with Deirdre on preparing for Harry's gala, so I arranged to rent a second holiday let near yours. Ellie and Kieran, Catherine and Xavier, and all the kids can go and enjoy the beach with you. They're packing now." She said it matter of factly, but then frowned down at the floor.

"And what's the real reason?" Artemis prompted.

"I do need to work with Deirdre, and fewer people around will be easier for her and less distracting for me. But…it's just an uneasy feeling," Lina shrugged. "I had a message that a sabotage attempt was made at one of Gareth's factories this morning. They didn't get far, my people stopped it. But that's the second one targeting his company in the last year, and there was another two years ago. And there have been a few petty thefts at the administrative offices and one attempted break-in, but nothing was taken then." She crossed her arms and looking off in the distance, pressing her lips together. "I think whoever is behind those attempts is…testing the protective measures I've put in place, seeing where the weak spots are. It feels like I'm playing chess with someone I can't see."

"What does Gareth think about it?"

Lina hesitated. "He knows about the earlier sabotage attempts, but not the recent ones."

"Do you not trust him?" Artemis frowned.

"Him I trust, it's his people I'm not entirely sure of. And he'd immediately get involved and try to sort things out himself. So until I can run down who's behind this," she shrugged, "well, I'd rather play things closer to the vest. Gareth had suggested going back to Lima before the New Year so Severus could evaluate his typical routines and see where he might want Deirdre to focus. I think I ought to go with them, to follow up on some things in person."

Artemis blew out a breath, ruffling the heavy bangs on her forehead. She shot her oldest friend a wry grin. "It's moments like these I miss being in the game. Don't get me wrong, I love my life and wouldn't trade it for anything, but oh, that thrill of going out on a new op. I do miss it sometimes."

Lina smiled. "Remember that Niffler debacle in Paris?"

"Oh man! Seeing that chubby, fluffy thing on the head of the Christian Dior model… She was screaming like a lunatic and that diamond necklace sort of oozed out of the Niffler's pouch and dropped down the front of her dress and he went after it! I could hardly cast I was laughing so hard!"

"Those were the days. We were young and reckless and didn't have anything to lose."

"Except our lives. But that didn't always seem so important."

Lina smiled. "We both have a lot more to lose now." She paused after saying the words, eyebrows pulling in quizzically. "Who would want Gareth to lose?" she muttered softly.

"Is there anyone on your radar? I mean, that girl Valentina is dead, right?"

Lina nodded. "If she were alive she would be my number one suspect, even from prison. But I saw it happen. I wasn't going to let that witch out of my sight between the sentencing and her getting sent up. The guards were going to escort her out and apparate her straight to Devil's Island. They take her out a rear door, and when they're all outside she feigns hysteria, grabs one of their wands, and aims a killing curse right at her chest. It was over in seconds."

"So I'm sure you've checked other family members, any weird friends that might carry on her quest for revenge…"

"She had henchmen, not friends. And no other relative that I've checked has the same level of animosity towards Gareth that she did. So right now I have nothing." Lina sighed. "It's highly irritating."

"I'm sure you'll work it out. After all…" Artemis pasted on a bright smile, "a Lina Laurent plan never fails! Yes friends, with a Lina Laurent plan success is guaranteed or your money back!"

"Oh shut up," Lina laughed, rolling her eyes.

Just a short while later everyone was walking across the snowy ground to the reservation's magically warded entrance, like some sort of strange parade under the foreboding gray skies. Ana and Colleen were deep in conversation, eager to trade snow unicorns for sandcastles. Cadmus and Finn plotted how to sneak seaweed and crabs into the girls' beds, and the younger boys raced around yelling, still only vaguely aware of what was even meant by a holiday at the beach.

Gemma begged and pleaded to be allowed to stay with the adults at the reservation, finally getting her parents' permission. Kieran was about to start in on Joel with some stern warnings, when George interrupted him. "Oh, let me! I remember how this talk goes!" He pressed a finger to the side of his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Let's see, there was the threat of being turned into a werewolf, but I think you've heard that one. Being torn limb from limb — I've actually seen them do that to people and it's definitely to be avoided. Oh! The best is that if you don't watch yourself you'll get chopped into tiny pieces and eaten. Or maybe they skip the chopping and just go straight to the eating."

Joel held his hands out pleadingly. "I'm not planning, intending, or in any way anticipating any situation in which any of those threats will be necessary."

"I might be," Gemma muttered, but only Ellie heard her, leaning over to wrap an arm around the girl's shoulders.

"I know you," Ellie muttered back. "There's some part of you that wants to toy with him like a cat with a poor mouse. Leave him be."

Gemma made a face, but then grinned. "Ah, he's probably too old for me anyway. He's done with school and I'll still be there for ages. The way he likes to cook he needs to fall in love with some chubby French pastry chef." She sighed. "But it's nice to have a partner in crime, and not feel completely like the odd duck, too old to really run around with the boys, but not being part of a couple like everyone else."

"Eh, but you're our odd duck," Ellie smiled, smoothing back her hair. "And there's time still. Someday some other odd duck will come along that will be just right for you, and we'll make all the same speeches to him."

There was a great deal of waving and hugging and saying goodbye, and then a bit of confusion as the non-magical people and children were paired off with wands to apparate back to the city. When the send off was complete, those remaining headed towards the dining hall. Grams hadn't been joking when she said blizzard conditions were on the way. Within a couple hours the storm arrived with a fury, wind howling around the corners of buildings like a lost and forlorn wolf. Doors and windows rattled in the wind and snow pelted the windows. It was a deluge of white, insulating them from the rest of the world.