believe me, I can't believe myself

One night, two deaths. Hadn't it just been yesterday morning that she and Max had bickered about the Boggart? She hadn't thought anything of leaving that night to go out and relax for a drink in Hogsmeade. But she hadn't found a drink, she had found the Shrieking Shack in flames. That set off the series of events that made her an accessory to the death of Alexis d'Eath, and the most suspicious person in the death of Charlotte Topez. Jack had limped away from the Ministry, their glares pushing her away from them, as she sought solace from this hellish night. She needed peace, she needed safety. She needed somewhere to escape to and hide away from these plague-like worries.

The part of her that belonged to others felt free of guilt. Nemo and Chase had taught her to stop taking on the consequences of things outside of her control. 'I could have saved them' was not enough to convict her, and she had to believe it. This part of her constantly chorused that she had no reason to lose sleep over the battle. She had not been the killer of either, she had just been unable to prevent their deaths. She had tried to save them, she had done what she could, but it simply not been enough, as these things usually turned out.

But Jack felt guilt in her bones, she felt shame in her soul. How could she face the six year old who looked to her for safety and guidance, knowing that she had seen terrible, rotten death and had been unable to protect others? If she let harm come to others in her presence, what good was she? She apparated from the scene and appeared upon her doorstep, swaying from exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Her hair was frazzled, her clothes were burnt and singed, and there was literally blood upon her hands. A gash across the arm caused blood to seep through her sleeve, there was smeared, dried blood above her brow from a gash on her head, and ash had settled onto her figure as well from the fire in the Shack.

She rifled through her pockets for her key, as they had enchanted the door to only be opened from the outside if you had the key. She cursed, realizing it was not in her pockets. She raised a weary arm and knocked, almost so weakly that it was too faint to hear. She swallowed and knocked again, more firmly this time. "Max!" she croaked. "It's me. I lost my key."

There was a reason Max never fought or argued or got into disagreements of any kind. They left him feeling like he had just been beaten by an entire gang. The disagreement with Jack had been almost 24 hours ago and Max's stomach still felt as if it were carrying heavy stones. Yesterday afternoon he had gone to St. Mungos as planned and spent many hours there visiting with Daisy and relaxing beside her when she drifted off to sleep. But as the sun sunk towards the horizon he had been shown the door by an irritable nurse and had no choice but to return to the home on Layabout Lane.

Upon his arrival Max had discovered the house occupied by Sunny and Charlie (who had been instructed to watch her young cousin and keep her out of trouble). Jacks absence was like a hole in the house and Max wasn't sure if he should be grateful or not. Part of him was desperate to see her but part of him wasn't sure he was ready to. Max had prepped dinner for the two girls and sent Sunny to bed at an appropriate hour (which was met with surprisingly little resistance). Shortly afterwards Charlie excused herself and retreated to her room rather than sit in awkward silence with her housemate.

Evening turned to night and night may have slipped into morning but Max was still unable to sleep. He sat on the couch next to a freshly built fire and attempted to read through a novel that his mother had purchased him for Christmas. The book was terrible and he was easily distracted, his mind wandering on topics of Jack, the fight, Sunny, Daisy, and his biological family. It had been a long 24 hours but his brain wasn't quite willing to let him rest yet.

A knock on the door made Max jump. No one would call at this time of night. But then he heard her voice and his heart fell to his stomach. Quickly he moved to the door and, unlatching it, swung it open to reveal Jack. She was burned, bruised, and bloody. But despite her wild hair and ripped clothes there was no malice in her eyes and all remaining feelings of anger disappeared. "Oh my God." Max whispered under his breath. "Jack, get inside." he urged, as gently as he could.

When she got over the doorframe he closed the door and latched it as quickly as possible. Had the boggart gotten to her again. "What's happened? Is something coming?" his eyes darted about. This was much too soon. 24 hours was not enough time to jump from one horror to the next.

Birds were chirping, and a gentle breeze was sweeping the grass, reminding Jack that some people were busy leading a normal life. Their background music was these gentle sounds, while hers were screams and the swish of spells. Jack waited with her hand on the doorknob, holding herself up using the brass fixture. She slowly turned her head, looking at the orange horizon. The sun had not yet risen - within the hour, it would begin its ascent into the sky. Sun meant safety, that's always how it had been. The night brought fear and terrors, and the day brought relief from it all. She turned her head as she sensed movement behind the door, and patiently waited for one of her strange family to appear and gather her into the home.

Naturally, it was the last person she had verbally abuse who happened to answer the door. She had not seen him since their small fight, as Charlie had watched Sunny when Jack had to run off to work. All traces of the verbal battle escaped in the shadow of the real battles she had faced, as visibly shock crossed Max's usually cheerful and carefree countenance. He demanded with gentle insistence that she come inside and she found it a perfectly wonderful command, and she stumbled across the threshold, leaving the door for Max to handle.

He closed the door and Jack leaned against the wall, reaching up and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. "No one's coming... Well, they shouldn't be. If they are, there won't be any trouble, just- just lawyer talk and false... false..." Jack was having a hard time stringing her words together as thought after thought rolled over one and then the other, images of the night before splashing across the forefront of her brain, guilt fighting against innocence. She heaved a breath and slowly opened her bleary eyes, like tearing apart sleep-crusted lids after a night full of nightmares to see a dazzling morning light, but that light was Max Morrison's soft-featured face. 

She shuddered a breath out. "Look. People are going to say some things, some really bad things. There was a fire... and there were Death Eaters attacking children, and a Death Eater was killed by a combination of two spells, and one of those was mine. And then, three hours later, a Death Eater trying to break away crossed my path before she was murdered by Death Eaters. And I- I tried to stop it, and help her out, but they killed her and... they saw me with her. The Ministry workers saw and I think they think I did it. I swear, Max, I don't want to hurt anyone ever. I don't give a shit what everyone else thinks, but please don't believe that I hurt anyone. It's the last thing I'd ever want to do."

Max closed the door behind Jack, a panic beginning to rise up within him as he observed her posture and broken, whispered words. She stuttered and stammered in such a way Max had never seen before. It was a few seconds after she had finished speaking that Max was fully able to process the actual content of her words. Murdered, Death Eaters, killed. It swirled around in his brain and without realizing it, his mouth had dropped open slightly.

The Ministry employee in him wanted to file an oral report of sorts - to figure out exactly what had happened play by play and take note of the names of the dead. But this wasn't work and not even Max was blind enough to see what a complete and utter mess the redhead was. Understandably upset, seeing as how she had just killed someone. No. Max mentally scolded himself, she hadn't killed anyone, it was just a mistake.

Part of him felt a strange twinge, considering her past actions and how possible it really was she had murdered someone. He couldn't put it past her with her anger and quickness to threaten. A memory of the previous mornings fight flooded his brain with an uncontrollable skepticism and for a moment he wondered if he should believe her pleading. But as quickly as it had come the moment passed and Max locked eyes with Jack, finding security in them.

"Of course I believe you, Jack." then again quieter and with even more assurance, "Of course I do."

Max wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulder and murmured "C'mon. Let's get you warm." He guided her to the living room and to the couch. There was no real need for the physical constant between them but she shook in such a way that Max wondered if she was really steady on her feet. It felt important to keep her close but dangerous at the same time. He grabbed a blanket off of the back of an armchair and laid it across Jack's lap. It wasn't exactly winter weather, but he didn't know how to ease this kind of discomfort.

Max remained standing, shifting from foot to foot with nervousness. "What can I do? I have friends at the Ministry who might be able to do something. A lawyer or something" His eyes were alert and alive, bouncing around the room in a way that mirrored his hyperactive brain. That was the problem with being ordinary old Max Morrison. You were useless when it came to something like this.

He wasn't going to believe her. Why should he? How could he? Just hours before, Jack had verbally abused her roommate, acted irrationally out of... what? Insecurity? Uncertainty? Fear? All day, that fight had plagued her. Though she had managed to hold onto a scrap of anger, it was not offense she felt, but shame and guilt at having been so exposed. She felt wounded. She felt like the fox, it's foot caught in the trap while the chickens watched and pointed out every false step the fox had taken and how each had led to her downfall. Jack knew a lot of it was pride and ego, but everyone had faults they could not help. And even her ego, diminished as it had been by the years of grueling work and heartbreaking blows, was still healthy enough to hurt and throb after a thorough beating.

But Max had decided it was now his job to be a constant surprise to her, for her assured her with such sincerity and kindness that he believed her, that she could not dare to second guess the promise.She folded beneath his arm, propping her shoulder against his chest and allowing him to lead the way into the safe embrace of their comfortable home. They were only renting the place, sure, and it had begun as an agreement between strangers. But the house was no longer strange, and neither were the tenants. There was an air of comfort and familiarity, of closeness. It was always like returning to something. When someone stayed in a hotel, they never felt like they were returning to the room, just getting to the room. That's what 1234 Layabout Lane had felt like initially, something she got to at the end of a long night.

Now, she returned home to it, because there were people, safety, and love waiting for her return.

She sat at the couch and allowed him to tend to her, providing a warmth for her that she would have suffered without but never identify the need. Max was good at that, seeing what was missing. Jack could see what needed to be taken away, but Max seemed to see what needed to be added to give people relief.

He was bouncing from foot to foot, practically, staring down at her from what seemed like three stories above her. She looked up at him, feeling old and tired. Her hair had lost it's bounce. It was matted and crazy, handing heavily down the sides of her face. Her eyes held bags beneath them. Her cheeks sagged under the weight of the burden of guilt and exhaustion. Her eyes blinked and dulled like dying embers of flame. Jack Dyllan did not want to be fixed right now. Fixing was going to take a lot of work.

"Could you sit and watch some television with me?"