Darkness within the Light

________________________________________
“Ah, so Khaat finally found out who you and Jenifer really are, then?" Robert said, "Well, about bloody time, too. No wonder she's angry. I probably should have told her all that before you married her, but that really was not my responsibility to do. I knew you wouldn't be able to handle being a cook here for long. Not enough in it for you. So, right now, it seems that you would prefer for your wife, despite being 6 months pregnant, to run the restaurant all by herself. Is that it? Is that really all the caring you can muster up? You know it’s a full time job for you and Lizzie together. How the hell will she do it alone without endangering herself or Abbey? But I suppose it’s one more thing I shall have to take care of because you won't do it.

"Get over yourself, Robbie. You might be a national class drug lord, but it doesn't impress everyone. Least of all your wife or her family. There are far more powerful people in the world than you, and you are nothing but a big fish in a very small pond. Your youth makes you believe power and money is all there is. And your poor mother reinforced it. That's all she ever knew. I’m not sure anyone in her life ever treated her with true love and kindness. I knew her when she was younger, before she went through all the hell she suffered. I know she got far more than her share, but as pitiful as she has become, neither you nor Jenifer deserved what she put you through while she tried to parent you both. You do have a choice now, though. I think you have the ability to decide if you want your life to be better than what you had and to actually get it. And that’s what Khaat is offering you, if you’d think about that for just a second.

"You wanna know something? Your money will never buy Khaat if you think little material gifts will substitute for you. She's out of your league if that really is what you think. You can never buy enough fancy clothes, jewelry, perfume, roses ...to make up for what you can give her that she does want. All the elegant things she has bought since she met you? She got the money for that from me. If you remember, she never asked you for one cent since she married you. How do you think she afforded it after she sank everything she had into your enterprises? She got it from me. I've made sure she had a roof over her head, a safe place to sleep, and food when she couldn't afford it when I knew she'd given everything she had to you. You knew she had nothing left when you found those bottles. Where the hell did you go then? Why didnt you step up then? You got me to save her life, but then you ran off. And I picked her up again, supported her when she had nothing and you were rolling in more money than you will ever, ever spend. I don't think I will ever, ever understand that. Not as long as I live.

"She thought if she were prettier, maybe you’d move home with her and stay. She does not even begin to understand what she possibly could have done that keeps you refusing to come home to her at night and makes you refuse to touch her since her wedding night. Nothing makes sense except she thinks she’s not enough in some way or another. What other woman do you know that buys an entire wardrobe of maternity clothes in Seville Row, of all places? At their exclusive prices? What did you truly think? Or did you ever even notice? A woman might buy her regular wardrobe there, maybe. Not maternity clothes just to wear for a few months. Khaat believes the bigger she becomes the farther away she will drive you, and I’m not sure she isn’t right. The bigger she becomes, the more real Abbey becomes to you, and the faster you run. Money and material goods--none of that means anything to Khaat. It never, ever has. Not ever. She only sees it as perhaps a means to make herself whatever it is she isn’t enough of, for you. She's told you every way she knows how what she wants, and her perception is that you meet her efforts time and time again with nothing but rejection or empty promises.

“You undoubtedly have seen the changes in her. I can see it in your face. And you’re clueless as to how this happened. I am not the least bit surprised. Yes, I indeed recruited her. I did it to save her from herself. She is so completely full of pain and anger that I wanted her to have some means to feel her life still had some sort of purpose and also to be able to be able to release some of that growing emotional malignancy—that same almost indefinable thing you’re seeing in her eyes-- that truly was putting both her and Abbey in very real, very serious life threatening danger. She was becoming medically very unstable and heading for a certain miscarriage. So I put her to work. I could have come to you, but she forbid me from saying the first syllable to you whatsoever about anything. She only wanted you to be involved in her life if she, herself, was worth it to you. And, no, I was not concerned in the least for protecting you. I was, however, protecting my daughter and my granddaughter. So, when I gave in and put her to work, the danger to her and Abbey reduced very quickly, and they improved dramatically. She was able to unleash some of the rage she was feeling every time I sent her out, and every time I did, she improved medically, and the danger to her and Abbey was lessened more and more. You want the Khaat back you knew? Well, I don’t have the cure for that. You do.

"Let me give you a lesson in keeping your family safe. You don't run off from them. You keep them close. You can’t protect crap when they’re away from you. That’s asinine. How the hell did you think Lucius Malfoy did it all those years? No one wanted to kill him and his family in his heyday more than the Order and their allies. Lucius was smart enough to keep his family close to him. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't capable of loving them. And by not doing that, he missed it all. The only thing that really matters.

"Running them off to the ends of the earth won't protect Khaat or Abbey. If you won't keep them close enough to keep them safe, then I have no choice at all. I'll have to do what you refuse to. There isn't anyone in the wizarding world who is capable of reading a newspaper who doesn't know you're married and exactly who to. Khaat does have some notoriety of her own, if you forgot—the Director of St. Mungo’s and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? You don’t think for one moment that makes her a target every moment of her life, separate and apart from you? You really do think it’s all about you? When did she ever get into trouble one time from something you were responsible for? The potions she bought all by herself. She went to Knockturn because she knew I would never give those things to her. And if you hadn’t had your head up your…whatever…she’d have never felt that desperate in the first place. That’s not to say I wouldn’t really love to make you pay back somehow the fact that it damned near killed her. I could have done that while you were stuck as a Labrador if I’d truly meant to do it. It would have been simple. We’ve been all over that.

You are a real idiot if you think leaving her or driving her away will protect them. Your enemies will strike at you with all they have to get your attention by striking out at her and your baby girl. If you plan on letting them protect themselves, you are sadly mistaken. You're setting them up to be slaughtered. Is that what you really, really want? It alleviates enormous problems for you, but do you want to be seen as being that incompetent as a drug lord and that vulnerable? Let’s leave love out of it for a moment, shall we? It makes you look like the biggest, most incompetent ass on the planet not to protect your family. I will give you an opportunity to choose. But if you choose to put my daughter and my granddaughter in danger through your own selfishness, I will make sure no Dent, nor friend or associate of a Dent, ever sees either one of them again. And Abbey Dent will never exist as such. And believe me, I can do that.

"And since you won't even help her in the bloody kitchen, I see I shall have to do that too. Or do you have a plan to actually be some help? If you won’t, I will. She’s not physically capable of running Sparks by herself, and I would presume you would have a clue about that. So do you want this to work, or do you want to run? Now's your chance. Choose."

It was almost like he was being treated like a child all over again and Rob wanted to act like one as well. He could imagine himself falling asleep and not listening to a thing the idiot said. Robert Lupin could have been an age old English teacher that still wore bowties. He could have easily put any teenager to sleep. He didn’t want to have to listen to the man talk about how he knew all along about Rob’s position in the illegal potions trade etcetera, etcetera. It really wasn’t something he wanted to listen to. He didn’t want to know. Any other time – no wait, he couldn’t stand the smug bastard so scratch that, he never wanted to listen; ever. So he should have told Khaat, yes he knew that, but if Robert didn’t agree with his profession, which he probably didn’t, then he should have just told Khaat. He didn’t even want to go into the clash with Lizzie – that was ugly. He’d visit her tomorrow, why was he continuously thinking about that anyway, and give her flowers or something. Hopefully she wouldn’t slam the door in her face. No wait, she probably would.

He would have loved to have to told Robert that being careless was the package deal that Khaat ended up with when she married him but that was a lie for the most part. He was pretty careless but not with things like this. He could have lied again and given Robert a load of empty promises like he’d given Khaat but he wasn’t going to do that anymore and neither was he going to sit there and have the bloody man pity him and his sister and his mum. He could deal with Robert ripping him apart and Jen would no doubt yell and scream but he wasn’t letting anyone speak about his mum like that. He didn’t need to be told about their so called ‘plight’. They’d gotten on well enough without a male influence and the Whitlock’s would do it for generations to come. Rob didn’t need someone telling him that they ‘understood’ or ‘empathised’ with him or his childhood situation. Bullshit – all of it.

“You know nothing about me, Robert.” He spat furiously. “So don’t give me a lecture on things I already know because I don’t need it and frankly I don’t have to listen to it. You can blame my strange attitude on my poor upbringing and do whatever but you leave my mother out of this. She has nothing to do with any of this. I don’t care whether she’s pitiful or whatever because she’s still my mum and you can’t talk about her like that! Will you just go back to whatever dungeon you spend your time in plotting revenge for my screw ups and just stay there? Do me that one little favour okay? You know nothing about me and you never will so stop presuming you’re some all knowing deity because you’re not. And then if you are then you can f*ck off all the same. Right now, I don’t need this and don’t start on about me being selfish. Just go shag a sodding lamppost or something. Make yourself useful.”

He growled something under his breath and stormed into the kitchen. He slammed the door behind him and looked back at the door before shouting, “HAH!” at the window. That was really mature on his part. He turned around and looked at Khaat. “I am overly stressed, desperate to use your father as a test product and could really do with a good shag although that’s definitely at the bottom of the list of things I really need to do right now. Firstly, I want to know something....Is there still a bed there, at home, for me?” he looked as sheepish as he felt. He just hoped she wouldn’t throw a knife at him or something. He wasn’t prepared for that one.

"Of course there is," she said, unable to hide her deep love for him in her voice, so surprised at his question she was nearly thunderstruck. Plus, she was out of breath from kneeding countless bowls of bread, putting them into loaf pans and then into the oven. "There always has been, Rob. It's your home, whenever you want it. Otto misses you, by the way,"she said. And then she added very softly, "And so do I. Very, very much." The attention starved ottoman was attaching itself to her now like an abandoned puppy. "We have about ten beds and bedrooms. They're all pretty much empty now, but I'd rather have you share mine--if you wouldn't mind," she said, her voice almost a whisper, her request tentative and fragile this time. She didnt' want all those layers of ice she'd built around her heart to melt away or shatter, and if he held her or if he was kind to her, he would destroy all her hard work to protect herself. It would happen the instant she felt the beat of his heart against her own. He was the only one who held the key to that, and she wasn't going to betray herself by letting him know a thing about how easy it was for him to wipe away everything that kept her functioning through no matter what he could throw at her. Her anguish and nearly uncontrollable rage kept her going, and she didn't want him taking that away from her by being loving to her. It would melt it all away, and would make her let it all go. Make her what she used to be, and right now that felt vulnerable. Her rage felt like it kept her safe. She didn't want to feel like she was going to end up as Narcissa. Not ever again. Being hardhearted was safer, and she knew Rob could undo it with a touch or a simple kiss or a word. He had far more power than he knew. She feared that more than anything else in her world right now--that he would hold her and wipe away all that ice that kept her together just by his warmth. "But you can have whichever one you want," she added, in case he didn't want her's.

She was just as afraid he would reject her again, so she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she directed her attention next to batches of several different types of scones--apricot, chocolate chip, raspberry, and cinnamon-almond scones for a change. She was starting to feel overheated and dizzy. She conjured a glass of ice water and took a drink. Before she had become pregnant she had been extremely efficient in the kitchen and could multitask better than most other muggle style cooks she had ever seen. Now Abbey slowed her down and stripped her of the best of her energies more than she had thought her daughter would. She could feel it already. Silently, she did not believe she could carry off a 12 or 14 hour shift in a restaurant kitchen while 6 months pregnant, but she was not going to utter a syllable. It was her issue, no one else's.

"I am sorry you and Daddy just don't seem to ever get along, and I am so very sorry it stresses you so far," she said softly, rolling out the scones with a heavy, commercial rolling pin. "Someday you will be just as protective about Abbey, I'm sure. I'm sorry it all seems to be overwhelming now. Daddy's been through a lot with me, more than anyone ever deserved from a child, and that's my fault. I brought that all on all of us myself. And if you need to use someone as a test subject, use me. I'll volunteer--willingly. Maybe it would be fair payment for everything I keep putting people through. Leave Daddy alone. Please. It's not his fault--its mine. If anybody deserves that, its me. Not him." She didn't know if he would pick up on how deeply heartfelt that request was. She had put both Rob and Robert through so much that if anyone deserved some untested potion, it was her. And she probably tolerated pain better than either of them, she knew that. Plus that, she really felt so little right now, she doubted it would impact her anyway, even if he had used his worst on her.

She made fast work of cutting all the scones with her largest chef's knife and set some of them quickly on a sheet pan with a brush of melted butter overtop and a sprinkling of sanding sugar for decoration. She put them in the oven. The ovens were full now, with another batch for each oven waiting ahead. She swiftly mixed sweet sugar glazes to brush on the tops of some of the other scones.

She washed her hands and accioed a pan of short ribs too heavy for her to lift by hand and set them on her work table. She cleaned the silverskin off of them and put them in large dutch ovens with Lizzie's prepared vegetables that she had intended for soup and added a finely blended rich bourdelaise sauce and put them on a stove top so they could begin to braise in the rich, heady red wine and carefully balanced spices , along with putting potatoes on the stove to boil for smashed roast garlic potatoes to accompany the soul warming short ribs.

She checked the clock. She was running out of time before Sparks would open for the day. Two hours left, with four hours of cooking to do. She wished she had a time turner. She began working on two soups simultaneously--a Tomato Basil soup with a red wine base, and a Sharp Cheddar Cheese soup with a beer base. She had to resort to shortcuts today where she could get it. She defied her own promises and started a huge wheel of cheddar grating itself, and tomatos washing themselves, while she put large quantities of beef stock and wine in one enormous soup pot and several bottles of their finest ales into a second pot. She drew out vegetables magically from the walk in fridge and set them to washing themselves so she could cut them. She accio'd a huge quantity of carrots, onion and celery into washing itself and dicing itself to prepare a massive bowl of mirepoix.

Her plan was to get the soups on and then brew the teas and the coffees for the day and then continue with making the pastries and desserts for the day. "I'm not ignoring you, Rob," she said, "I have too little time today--that's all. I'm glad you're here. Really glad. " The chef's knife clattered to the floor in her fatigue. She cursed softly. She magically raised it,having known that bending to pick anything off of the floor was next to impossible now because of how large Abbey was making her. There were just a lot of things, including getting up out of certain chairs and sofas, that she was seriously considering conjuring a hydralic lift to help her with. It was just an impossible chore, and it was only going to get worse. Abbey was going to get bigger--a lot bigger. She carefully checked the blade on the knife and realized it had been badly knicked. That would make using it difficult and dangerous until she had time to have it professionally sharpened. "My favorite knife, too," she sighed, disappointed and frustrated. She sent it to wash itself, picking a knife she didn't like nor trust as well to use instead. "By the way" she said, picking her words carefully,"I've given Lizzie several days off. I'll bring her back eventually. She needs a rest. You won't find her. I'll take care of Sparks until she returns."

She passed him on the way to the walk in again. She had filled an enormous collander loaded with fruit for the filling for pie crusts Lizzie had started,started to bring it back to the worktable, and she felt uncontrollable dizziness striking her again, harder. She accidently fell hard suddenly right into Rob's chest, dropping the collander of fruit, sending the fruit scattering all over the floor. She grasped his shirt tightly,holding onto him so she didn't collapse on the floor like the fruit, not sure if she could right herself or not. "Give me just a second. I'm fine," she said. "It's a pregnancy thing. I just need a second. It always passes." She wasn't sure she was right this time. She didn't know truly if it was a pregnancy thing or not, but she didn't want him to hold her. Didn't want to feel his arms around her. Didn't want him to kiss her. Didn't want his kindness. Didn't want to lose everything she had worked so hard to protect herself from--all that love for him that made her so vulnerable.

He pressed his lips together and crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to feel like a school boy who was about to get his knuckles hit with a ruler; he refused. There was no need for that. He didn’t want to feel like a child. He didn’t need to. Of course, he constantly acted like one but he didn’t plan on doing so now. He had to be the adult he obviously was and not Peter Pan trapped in an adult’s body. Rob sighed and glanced at Khaat. The furniture missed him did it? That wasn’t weird in the slightest. He didn’t know if he wanted to respond. He didn’t really think it to be his home. In his mind, sure, but his home was the manor his mother and grandmother and everyone else lived in because that was the place he called home for at least nineteen years of his life before he bought a flat in Knockturn Alley. It made him feel a little awkward.

Rob walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. She was cold, missing the warmth she usually had. He listened to her a little more and couldn’t help but scowl. “Khaat I love you. Not only would the other rooms be an invasion of privacy to the others but I don’t think there is anywhere else I would rather be than with you.” What a cliché. “Look, personally I think your father would be a better test subject than you would. I don’t know if you want to take that as a compliment or not but I don’t want you anywhere near those labs. Not only would they be toxic for Abbey but detrimental to your health as you’re carrying her.”

He sighed and watched her walk away to prepare whatever she was preparing. He felt her fall against him and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist just to make sure she didn’t fall. He lifted her up, with great effort mind you, and navigated himself around some of the fallen fruit long enough to perch her on the kitchen island. He pushed some of her hair back out of her eyes and pressed his lips together. He was worried, her grip on his shirt was almost vice like and she was beginning to pull at the hairs on his chest. He refrained from saying anything though. “You’re alright. I’ve got you, darlin’.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and watched her, looking for any signs that told him she really wasn’t alright.

She waited for the dizziness to pass, but this time it didnt'. She felt fear rising from a place she'd never felt before. Something was definitely wrong. She didn't want to admit it, but she was sweating, and nauseated, and feeling really sick. Something was wrong--with Abbey. It took her a minute to connect it all.

"Something's wrong, Rob. With Abbey. Find Daddy. Right now. Something isn't right at all," She said, taking an iron strong grip on his hand. She didn't scare over much of anything, but this was causing her to feel nothing but fear. She didn't want to lose her daughter this far into her pregnancy, and she felt like she was starting the symptoms of a miscarriage. She knew he needed to get her father, but she didn't want him walking one step from her either. She didn't know if she could let go of his hand, even if Abbey depended on it. She could not remember ever in her life being this scared.

Rob frowned a little. What did she mean? Everything was meant to be peachy. All this over a near fall? He’d got her, she was fine. Maybe he’d held her too tightly. Rob was definitely panicking now. He threw the kitchen door open with a wave of his hand and kept his eyes on Khaat. He winced a little when she gripped his hand and made a face before looking over at the door. Where was the prick for goodness sake? He knew all about his daughter’s so called needs and Rob was a bad husband and father so shouldn’t the prick be dealing with this? Rob could feel Abbey’s slight distress but apart from that she seemed as mellow as hell. That pissed him off slightly although he wasn’t going to say anything. She no doubt got his careless attitude because Khaat cared about everything. “Khaat...I...” he was wrong. No, Abbey had his bad reaction time too. He cursed under his breath and winced. Her grip was more vice-like on his hand than his shirt. “Oi! You great prick get your arse in here now!” he shouted over his shoulder. The prat was probably drinking tea.

Robert appeared in the dining room, sighing heavily, "Why do I even bother to answer you when you are that exceptionally rude?" he sighed. "What is it you want?" He walked into the kitchen and saw Khaat in obvious distress. He laid one hand on her forehead and one on her stomach. His face changed drastically to deep concern.

"Khaat, what did you do?" He frowned.

"Nothing, I swear," she said, near tears.

"Khaat, now listen. It's going to be alright. She'll still survive at this age. It just will be very touchy for a bit. "

"No," she began to cry, and he quickly took her face in both his hands.

"Khaat. Listen. We don't have time for this. You have to hold together for me. You're a healer. You know she can survive this. We're going to St. Mungo's--now. Rob, Khaat is miscarrying Abbey. We have to get her to St. Mungos because she's going to deliver this child before she's due. This is no false alarm. Can you meet me there with her--fast?"

Rob scowled at Robert and watched them leave. He knew Khaat wanted him to be there but he needed to grab Jen first. She’d probably know he needed her and would no doubt appear but Pete, Christophe and David would probably want to go too. He walked out into the dining area and grabbed his phone. He dialled Jen’s number and left a voice mail. She appeared with a crack and grinned at Rob. She kissed him soundlessly and sat herself down in one of the chairs. He quickly phone Christophe and soon both he and David appeared as well as Pete and a woman that he had yet to meet. He smiled at her and she blushed a little before scooting closer to Pete. Rob managed to beat down the swell of jealousy and phoned Lizzie. She’d want to know. He left her a voice mail and dropped his phone into his back pocket.

“Robbie is all grown up nearly! Starting his own family!” Chris squealed. David rolled his eyes and stood up. He shook Rob’s hand and smiled before hugging him tightly. “Oh look! It’s the girls.”

Five cracks sounded and David pulled away in time so he wasn’t caught up in the beating Rob was going to receive. “ROBERT ANDREW DENT!” Katrina screamed. Rob winced and Jen grinned. She got up and hugged the other four sisters before whispering something in Katrina’s ear. “Ooh. Can we come to the birth Robbie?”
“Kat...really?” Rob asked, raising an eyebrow. “You want to come?”
“Sure.” Maeve laughed. “The healers are hot.”
“Okay. Uhm... let’s go.”