“Respectable?” Akiva repeated, half out of disbelief.  “And you’re not?” she asked, in all seriousness.  Raizel might not have been as polished as some people could be, but that wasn’t what it took to be respectable, did it?  Doing good things, doing things that mattered was what would make anyone worth respect in Akiva’s eyes.  Though, she supposed the definition varied largely from person to person. 

At first, Akiva didn’t know what to do with Raizel’s outstretched hand – she dind’t have anything the witch wanted… She blinked into the realization that she was going to take the book and with only a small amount of pride in her smile, Akiva handed it over.  Traditional didn’t necessarily mean bad, as long as one realized that it should be questioned and not taken for its word as forgone truth. 

The idea was swept under the rug at Raizel’s hurried confession: a brother she hadn’t mentioned before, and talked about in the past tense.  Akiva did not like to pry, as a rule, it generally led to hurt feelings, but she couldn’t help her immediate reaction of concern as her whole face softened. 

Things seemed to make at least a little bit more sense: the distance, the reluctance to see family.  Akiva had never experienced that  with her family herself, but she’d seen plenty of it – and experienced it with those from the wizarding world after the war.  There was trepidation, fear, and a lot of unresolved issues that could cloud relationships in new, foreboding sorts of ways. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Akiva said softly, reaching forward to put her hand on Raizel’s arm, though withdrew, feeling that perhaps it was not the best way to approach her.  She wasn’t quite a… touchy person, at least to Akiva.  “What was he like?” she asked, hoping to draw out a happy memory, at the very least. 

She was so intent on everything else -- on the pounding of her heart, on the tarnished silver candlesticks, on making certain that she didn't look as if she were about to cry -- that the hand on her arm nearly startled her.  For a heartbeat, something caught in Raizel's throat.  But then Akiva was taking her hand away, and she fought to swallow, suddenly very interested in flipping through the pages of the same A Witch's Guide that she'd been ridiculing mere moments before.

If it had been nearly anyone else, she would have instantly changed the subject; pretended she didn't care, or summoned up enough bravado that no one would have dared inquire any further.  But somewhere along the way, between the self defense practices and the invitations to stay for dinner and the endless worry over her husband, Akiva had become a friend.  And so Raizel didn't snap at her, didn't shrug her off; and when she asked a question, she hesitated, biting her lip as she considered how to answer.

“What was he like?”

"He was...always trying," she said, giving a ghost of a smile.  "He liked to make people laugh.  He was in Gibbor too, back at Gaddol, but I think he only chose it --"  She broke off, jaw clenching, looking suddenly like she was lost before a great light.  But an instant later, it had passed; she cleared her throat and gave a half-hearted shrug. 

"He probably belonged somewhere besides Courage," she said, with a faint, flickering smile.  "But he liked it there.  He got plenty of attention."  She snorted, shaking her head.  "He also didn't know how to mind his own business.  I wanted to strangle him half the time, and Eszter nearly did once," she added dryly.  "But plenty of people liked him -- he was only a good student in the courses that he liked, but he always had plenty of friends."

To be perfectly honestly, Akiva prepared herself for any reaction that could have been had.  When emotions were raw, it was anybody's guess how someone might react to the memories of a loved one.  Time tended to heal in many ways, but losing a brother, Akiva could only imagine.  She knew how Dreogan reacted to what Adon was doing, and vice versa.  It was hard to imagine what it might be like. 

Though, she realized, the reality mightn't be too far off.  But, she held hope tightly.  It would take quite an event to dislodge it, even now, she just felt like Dreogan was coming home. 

It wouldn't really be home without him. 

She pushed her own feelings to the side for the moment, goodness only knew that Raizel had heard her on such a familiar track far too many times.  How Dreogan would want something, what he would do, how he spoke - everything lived with a memory of him that she couldn't quite shake.  She imagined that might have something to do with the way Raizel spoke so fondly, with whispers of a smile on her face, like she was reliving some wonderful memory. 

And, of course, a silly sort of memory, snorting as she seemed to remember a trait that wasn't always beneficial, but still, so loving.  It wasn't necessarily normal to see Raizel speak so openly, but it didn't seem strange either. She was just being honest, and that side of Rai was one Akiva did not always get to see, even as it was becoming a more regular occurrence.  "Trying takes a lot of courage, I think," she smiled warmly, feeding off of Raizel's positive energy. 

"And daring to get into your business, or - from the sounds of it - your sister's..." she grinned, "courageous indeed." 

"How many of your years at school overlapped?"

The Cursebreaker gave a snort, which very nearly covered up the grin that Akiva's joke had elicited.

"Most of it," she replied, with a hesitant smile.  "He was three years younger than me.  Old enough that he thought he had a say in things."  Who she was dating, predictably.  But Benny had been better at commiserating than shouting matches.  "We did some things together, like the Dueling Club, but he wasn't very good.  I don't think he ever took it very seriously."

It was like some knob had been turned deep inside of her.  It had been a year -- nearly a year exactly -- since that awful day when the Aurors had come to her door, and in all that time, she'd barely spoken of Benny.  It was like she'd buried her brother away in more ways than just one after his death, and as much as she'd weeped and mourned and grieved, it had never felt right to let the world see.  Talking about him now felt like ripping that barrier clean away; now that she had started, she wanted desperately not to stop.

"He graduated a few months after I finished the Army.  We all thought that he might enlist too, but he didn't.  Most mages don't."  She gave a shrug, dropping her eyes to the book again as she flipped through the pages, more for something to idly do than because she really cared to find the spell.  Service back home was mandatory, but religious exemptions provided a way out for mages who didn't want to give up their magic for so long.  At the time, she hadn't thought twice about it; she certainly wouldn't have encouraged anyone to suffer through two or three years the way that she had.  It was only now after Benny's death that the first major decision that he'd made to break from her path stung a little.

"He went to travel for a year instead with our cousin and some other friends from school.  I didn't see him very much after that.  Only at holidays."  She hesitated, and then glanced at Akiva, almost fearful.  Could she understand?  The witch had clearly lost people in her life; she'd just told Raizel about her grandparents, and then there was the situation with her missing husband.

"He called me," she said, the line of her jaw tight.  "Maybe a week, two weeks before he died.  I wasn't there; he left messages.  I never tried to call him back.  I didn't even think twice about it."

Akiva giggled, imagining what it might have been like to have a little sibling.  She hoped that Gabriel would get to experience that – having a sister or brother who thought it was totally within his or her right to butt into his life whenever he pleased.  That was the point of family, wasn’t it?  To always be there? 

It seemed that even though her brother had died, Raizel still very much carried him with her. 

The floodgates, as it seemed, had opened and Raizel couldn’t stop talking about him.  It was endearing to see, the way Raizel’s smile lit up when she talked about him.  For all of her hard edges, Rai was a good storyteller.  And as she listened, Akiva moved to pick up Gabriel, feeling the urge to hold him – and he was starting to get a little fussy, mewling as wriggling in his seat. 

Gently lifting him out of the seat, Akiva rested him against her chest and bounced him, swaying from side to side, listening as the story as it went from nostalgic and loving to something else.  Raizel’s voice changed, her whole posture changed. 

It was as though her whole body tensed, her jaw tightened and she seemed to be hesitant.  Akiva took a step closer, rubbing Gabriel’s back as she did.  He whined as she did, but maybe he was just feeling tired.  It was getting close to naptime. 

Obviously, Gabriel wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable.  Akiva’s heart sunk for her.  “Oh Rai,” she breathed, trying to balance her son as well as be comforting.  “You couldn’t have known that, you know,” she said softly. 

“ I’m sorry though,” she tilted her head just a little, “I can’t imagine how tht feels, but, you really couldn’t have known.”

She gave a careless shrug that was too practiced, turning away as she dropped her gaze back down to the spells in the book.  It didn't matter whether she could have known, or she couldn't have -- she hadn't, and all of the anger that she could muster at the Aurors, all of her protests and shouting and willingness to do things now couldn't bring Benny back again.  Maybe that was why she'd so furiously avoided Eszter and their parents since then.  They were all far past the point where anything could have been done.

"It doesn't matter."  Her throat felt too tight, even when she forced herself to swallow.  And it didn't belay the fact that it did matter:  that she should have known, that she should have realized that Benny had been reaching out for help.

But it didn't need to matter now.  Not today.  Not when a chag was due to start in a few hours, and her friend had her own troubles to worry about.  Raizel forced herself to take a breath, and then flashed Akiva a quick, fleeting ghost of a smile.

"If you want to get Gabriel ready, then I can finish up here.  Then we should make sure everything's cooking, yeh?"  She took another steadying breath.  Most of the workings of the kitchen were a mystery to her, but she liked feeling a part of Akiva's domain, even if all she did was follow the witch's careful instructions.  "I promise I will not turn anything but the candlesticks silver."

“It does matter,” Akiva tried to keep her voice as calm and soft as possible, even if she felt quite strongly about that.  People couldn’t blame themselves for the unforeseen.  Relationships were hard, keeping in touch was a trial at best, and sometimes it seems like all the pieces were there, and you were just not smart enough – or good enough – to figure it out. 

If Raizel felt something like that, even a little bit, it mattered. 

Gabriel garbled and she could feel him tug a lock of her hair.  She suppressed her wince as he put her hair in his mouth and tugged.  “You know, it matters if it makes you feel bad.  I might not understand, but I can listen.” 

It might not be the time to talk about it, of course, all on Raizel’s time, but if she started and she wanted to keep going, Akiva would be happy to continue.  It was the least she could do. 

Her head moved with the force of another of Gabriel’s tugs and she sighed, reaching up to disentangle herself from his vice-like grip (wondering which side of the family that came from), and tutted at him as he tried to fight against her.   Raizel was right though, and maybe she could use a second.  Smiling softly, she hitched Gabriel higher on her shoulder and  laughed at Raizel’s promise.

“Even if you do,” Akiva’s nose wrinkled, “I’ll  be back in five minutes – tops – to fix it,” she teased, “I just want to give him a quick change, and I’ll be back.” 

It was funny, how all it took was knowing that someone would listen for her to suddenly not feel so alone.  For a year, Raizel had been wrestling with Benny's death all by herself, and even now, the thought of sharing more than she already had made her feel like an overwhelming wave was about to crash over her.  But knowing that the offer was there, that Akiva knew and that she cared -- somehow, that was almost enough.

When she'd first met Akiva Eleor by stepping into that confrontation on the street in Diagon Alley, Raizel had never expected much to come of it.  She'd insisted on adopting the witch for self defense lessons only because it had seemed necessary, and because no one else had.  But somehow, through the trials and tribulations and frustration of it all, Akiva had turned from someone who needed to be protected into a woman that she valued as a friend.

Raizel gave her friend a faint smile as the other woman turned away with her newborn son.  Tonight was the time to light the candles, to speak of old commandments and tell stories ancient battles waged against the darkness.  In the meanwhile, she could hold tight to her memories of her brother until her heart took fire, just like Akiva cherished the photograph of her grandparents from so long ago.

As long as there was a candle burning, there was always time.

End.