Follows on from Our Weakness is Clear Now

When you're a bit bloody, bare-chested beneath a wool jacket in January, and you're clutching a scented handkerchief laced with healing properties to your face, an arm slung over the shoulder of the man you love, people stare.

They stare and then they look away. Perhaps in fear. Either way the two wizards negotiating the stairwell in Hiraeth Gardens did not have time to linger and say hello to the familiar faces and kept their heads down.

Johann focused on keeping his balance as they ascended, while his mind jumped from place to place:

What if Hannah wasn't there? Why had Ira let him go so suddenly? Would Werner ever remember he was there? Was it just a wound? Ira had hurt Balfour! Who else had he unwittingly helped her kill? If Hannah wasn't there would Dietrich heal him well enough instead? How had she hurt Balfour? What did Balfour mean about him and Ira being closer than friends? What were they going to say to Hannah to explain? How did Balfour know it was Ira so quickly? How was he going to explain to Gabrielle if he couldn't work? Why was Balfour still friends with Ira? What were they going to do? How did they explain the wound to St Mungo's? Why did he decide to work for Ira? Where would they live? Would Level 2 find out? How could he explain this mess to Balfour…?!

They were there at her door all of a sudden, Johann not conscious of the last minute or so, following obediently. Balfour had a free hand to knock on the door, Johann was still gripping his face, glad of the handkerchief to obscure it if nothing else. His heart thudded in his chest as they waited, ears strained for sounds of life. Johann glanced to Balfour, eye-sockets black, lips pressed into a straight flat line, anxious.

"I love you." He whispered in apology and thanks just as there was a noise behind the door. Hannah's front door came open and her perceptive eyes took one glance at them. Not a word needed to be exchanged on the doorstep. The front door was pushed wide open for them to get through. Hanna's hand gestured efficiently to a door within her home before she locked the door behind them[1].

Johann slid his right arm from Balfour's shoulders and exhaled noisily in relief, forgoing his usual sweep of a new location with unhindered curiosity to focus straight on Hannah instead while he kept a grip on Balfour's forearm for balance. His shoulders were stooped, head lowered.
"Never been more pleased to see you." He exclaimed to his once fiancee and trusted friend, tone muddied for the blood-filled nose. "Need your help."

1.	As confirmed with Mel

His skin could barely contain the activity inside, every iota already racing ahead to the next course of action as they made it to what he assumed was the right flat in Hiraeth. Dietrich was around the corner. The tattoo artist could help in a pickle but he wasn't a professionally trained Healer and between the moment they left Atreus and the instant they arrived at this door, Balfour was able to understand at least some of the wisdom in coming to Hannah Bombay.

But why didn't Johann trust St.Mungo's in itself? Granted, anything involved Ira was better kept off record, which made him wonder if that meant his lover knew more than he was letting on about the workings of their demented Landlord. Only... not enough to avoid being hurt like this.

He pressed his lips together tightly as he knocked, countenance caught in contemplation and worry. She crossed a line, which gave him license to erase it altogether.

"I love you."

Balfour glanced to his partner and his brow relaxed at the soft whisper. His simmering anger abated for now, something very few could claim to do, and he was on the verge of replying when at last the door was answered. The Healer let them in without a word - only a little surprising considering how well Johann spoke of her.

The door shut behind them, it felt like they could breathe a little easier. Away from prying eyes. Gods knew where Ira's eyes were.

"Five wounds to the side. Fingernails, I think, and wand. Burning hex." Balfour followed Johann's greeting, shifting their positions slightly and taking as much of the other wizard's weight on to his shoulders as he could manage. "I've done what I can. She's not used dark magic as far as I can tell, wasn't deep enough to finish him off."

He met Hannah's gaze in earnestness - better to cut to the chase. By accident he had nearly mentioned Ira by name, though at this point Balfour hardly cared about keeping such things secret. That didn't matter anymore.

It was convenient that this morning Hannah had offloaded the most recent corpse off on Layton, Ira Almasy’s evil henchman.
It was convenient that she hadn’t been given anything else to work on for this afternoon and therefore her table in the spare room was bare and clean.
It was convenient that today Hannah had chosen to dress in real clothes (not pyjamas) and therefore she’d been at the door a lot quicker when it had been banged.
It was convenient that the floor in the living room was wooden and the carpet in the spare room was dark as Johann’s blood left a trail to the table Hannah indicated he be lifted onto.
It was convenient Hannah’s spare room was carefully set up for emergency healing with an excellent stock of potions.

It was inconvenient Balfour Spectre, Johann’s lovebird and Ira Almasy’s friend was in her home.

"I've done what I can. She's not used dark magic as far as I can tell, wasn't deep enough to finish him off." Spectre informed the healer; she didn’t miss the mention of ‘she’. It wasn’t a current priority.

“Get his jacket off; we need to clean him up before I can do anything.” These were the first words the younger witch had said since they’d stood on her doorstep. She’d waved them in silently, too busy casting an analytical gaze over her injured friend for words of support or encouragement. She now had a job to do and discussing it with Johann and his lovebird wouldn’t speed it up. She cast another quick glance of Spectre before pointing her wand at her hands and cleaning them.

“Who’s she?”

Balfour was the more practical of the two once they'd got inside, identifying wounds and magic. Hannah gave simple, abrupt commands, no niceties, but in the circumstances, it now being forty minutes or more since Ira had gouged him, he wasn't complaining.

He let Balfour help him wrestle off Balfour's wool jacket, not worrying that he was cold and clammy beneath it with the weather and the blood-loss. He didn't immediately question why Hannah had a table in a spare room that was conveniently long enough to take a body.

"Who's she?"

Hannah's question hung in the air as he folded his legs up onto the table and lay down gingerly on his right side. He wiped at his nose which was blotting again onto his hands, and inhaled sharply at the sting of the wounds as the skin on his back shifted with him laying down. His blackened eyes shifted from staring oddly at the equipment nearby to the other two.

"Some sort of hex, stung like a burn. Put her wand into me. That's not a …" He tried to offer explanation, a faint offering of humour unfinished. The memory was a bit of a blur with several clear moments, all swirling in his mind's eye still. He didn't want to consider it again, a good portion of his mind wanted to forget, erase, but it rarely did. Things were all kept in there, somewhere to resurface with the right triggering connection. He shook his head gently, trying to dismiss thoughts, not staying very still in the process.

"Hurts like hell." He twisted his head as best he could to look up to Balfour, confused. "Did you know she can change her face?"

Balfour took a step back once his partner was settled on the table, although he did not stray far. Instinct wouldn't let him. He didn't want to leave until they were certain Johann was going to be alright, and so he lingered restlessly within reach and with a half smile in response to the aborted attempt at humour.

Hannah's question went ignored for now - he didn't want to mention the name, would set him off right away and calm was needed for situations such as these. One assumed. Generally speaking he did not think he would make an efficient Healer. Maybe that was the truth of it. People like him and Ira were born to make wounds instead.

"Did you know she can change her face?" The morbid thought was easily interrupted and he glanced at the other wizard, blinking uncertainly.

Hiding the truth was one thing but he'd made up his mind not to lie. "Yes. Not only her face. I'm not even certain if that is her real face." Balfour muttered resentfully and ran a hand through his hair, blood catching in the curls. "It's the one she's used for... thirteen fourteen years?" Alex had been about four when he first met Ira. Fourteen years ago, yes.  "I'm sorry I didn't warn you. I didn't... I didn't think she would."

What a fool he'd been to expect anything rational from her! To think he meant enough to protect Johann from her mind games and wretched afflictions. He leaned against the other end of the table to watch Hannah work, finding it difficult to actually talk about Ira.

The only ones who he'd ever said anything to were the Fates and cats, as was in their nature, cared as much for sociopaths as they did for the wallpaper.

"I assume she took my face when she hurt you," a trace of the underlying anger slipped into Balfour's voice, a low hiss. How he'd like to carve her up right now. "I can't imagine what that felt like." He looked away guiltily and focused on Bombay instead. That was a lie. Balfour could readily picture it in his mind, clear as day, being scarred by someone who looked like a person you'd given your heart to.

Nobody should be allowed to do that to Johann, yet he'd allowed it to happen somehow.

There was unsurprisingly no response to Hannah’s question of who the attacker had been. According to the conversation ‘she’ was a metamorph with a taste for blood. Merlin knew Johann couldn’t have been brave enough to truly anger a sane person. He wasn’t bold or courageous unless was absolutely necessary.
Yet he was lying on her table with sharp and burnt wounds in his back and a bloodied nose (no longer broken, she’d noted).

His jacket, beyond the cleaning effects of scourfigy, had been pulled from his bare torso and Hannah moved in closer for a better look. More relaxed than she may have been had Ira Almasy been stood in the room watching her, Hannah still couldn’t feel comfortable with Spectre, the witch’s friend stood over her own close friend, discussing this attack.
"I assume she took my face when she hurt you," the wizard told Hannah’s new patient and she frowned deeply as her wand pointed at his nose. Balfour Spectre was bad news, but she’d say nothing in his presence. Or would she risk saying anything at all to her friend?

The nose had been fixed and all it took was a quick spell to clear it of wet, fresh blood, making it easier for the wizard to breath.
A cold hand was placed on Johann’s shoulder,
“You need to lie on your front,”
It took some fidgeting and gasping from the German before he was in a position where the healer could see clearly the mess of his back.  A cloth was quickly grabbed along with a cleaning potion which she dribbled onto the fabric before she glanced at Balfour.
“This will sting. Hold his hand.” Having only given him a second to follow the order, Hannah began to dab the cloth on the bottom left wound, gently to ease the pressure.
“I don’t know many women with claws…”

At Balfour's confirmation that he knew Ira could change, he swore quietly, not out of irritation his lover didn't tell him, but because he could have been talking to Ira on so many occasions without knowing.
"… I didn't think she would."
"No-one in their right mind would." He echoed in a mumble.

Hannah's wand came close to his face and he went momentarily cross-eyed watching it with slight apprehension.
"I can't imagine what that felt like." Johann swallowed as the thought of it came back to his mind's eye. At the same moment, Hannah's charm cleared his aching nose.

"Don't try." He replied coldly, though a lot more clearly all of a sudden. He took a cautious inhalation through his newly reopened nose. It stung but it was better to breathe. Hannah's hand to his shoulder made him look up properly and he nodded once before he began to negotiate his limbs. The adrenaline was wearing off and everything hurt. Eventually he was flat on his front, feeling the bruises on the bottom of the front of his ribs where he'd met Ira's desk as he was thrown against it. He folded his hands above his head and turned his cheek flat to look left.

"This will sting. Hold his hand." There wasn't much of a warning and the moment whatever it was touched his back Johann's head shot up off the surface as his whole body tensed.
"AAARghhh shiii…." After the initial surprise he gritted his teeth and let his head sink down, hands clenched as Hannah continued.

"I don't know many women with claws…"
"Other than you, I didn't think I did either." Johann confirmed, his gaze glancing around what little of the room he could see as he tried to keep calm and trust that Hannah would patch up whatever the hell the state of his back was.

"She licked the blood off my chin, it was… revolting doesn't even start to explain what it was. I want to throw up just thinking about it. Aahhhhfff, damn. I should never have agreed to work with her. Should have stuck with the day job." He swore to himself and hissed through his teeth at he pain. "Thank Merlin for you two. Really." He squeezed Balfour's hand tightly with both of his. 

He was gripped by a quiet, anxious fear that Johann would associate his countenance with the violence endured today. But Balfour trusted - blindly, in the way he often did - that his partner was beyond such deception. His hand slid into the proffered one and he held it firmly as Hannah began the healing in earnest.

Balfour's shoulders drew back, stiffened to mirror the tension as Johann yelled in pain. He wanted to look away. It wasn't something he usually did; blood and raw flesh, these were things beast handlers were comfortable looking at. But nothing is the same with the people you love.

It's worse.

Still, his attention remained very much on Johann.

"She licked...?" Balfour trailed off, blinking uncertainly because he couldn't quite wrap his mind around how to react to that. His stomach turned inside out at the very idea of her being that up close and personal, in his form, pressed against his lover and breathing him in the way she would often have done with Balfour in the past.

Another concern quickly replaced the image, however. "Wait. What?" he almost let go of the hand. "Work with her? Johann did you sign a contract?" Balfour swore, forgetting that Hannah was there for an instant as he leaned in closer to the other wizard's face. Christ. That explained more than he was willing to think about at this exact second. The odd glimpse of Ira's assistant leaving Johann's floor, the fact that Johann was at all staying at Atreus.

Act of kindness. That was what Ira had described it as, having the linguist in the building - considering the rigorous process for tenancy. She lied so well, so beautifully.

"Was it a blood contact?" he added quickly, swallowing. "Wait. No. I know you can't say if it is. I just... I'll ask her myself. I should do that now." Among other things, they needed answers before he needed her blood. Balfour squeezed Johann's hand and glanced at Hannah in a serious, pleading manner. "Is he going to be alright? I need to go deal with this while I still can. I'll be back before the night is through."

He had to go see if this was a declaration of enmity or another one of her sordid games. And to see if Atreus was safe to return to - perhaps not immediately, although at least in the days or weeks to follow.

Johann really loved this untrustworthy wizard. He tightly gripped his hand as Hannah went to work. The couple seemed to forget she was even in the room. Is that what love was? Was love when you ignored everyone around you and focused solely on your one true love? Balfour wasn’t his love. This attack had happened because he’d let it; he’d said so much.
Hannah’s mind began to piece the pieces of information together as she gently cleaned Johann’s wounds.
"Work with her? Johann did you sign a contract?" Hannah withdrew the cloth from Johann’s skin to dribble a few more droplets of potion onto it.
"Was it a blood contact?" Hannah’s hand slipped, spilling more potion than she’d have liked onto Johann’s back, eliciting an anguished yell as the potion seeped into his wounds with far more vigour than intended.
“Shit,” the healer swore, grabbing for a clean cloth to soak up the excess moisture. Her mind began to spin with possibilities and certainties. Her biggest certainty was that Ira Almasy had hurt her friend. Her biggest possibility was how she was going to hurt Ira Almasy.

"Is he going to be alright? I need to go deal with this while I still can. I'll be back before the night is through." Balfour Spectre addressed the witch who was suddenly torn between two responses. She wanted to ask him how he meant deal with it; did he mean give his friend a pat on the back for attack Johann? She wanted to scorn him there and then for associating with such a witch.
Instead she pursed her lips and nodded. There was no unnecessary response or comforting for the wizard who consorted with the devil.

Balfour homed in on his mention of working with Ira in a flash and dropped his face towards him, gaze intent in confirming.
"Was it a blood contract?" He asked as Johann winced at Hannah's dabbing of his wound with whatever that potion was. "… I'll ask her myself. I should do -."

Hannah dropped what felt like the whole bottle of potion onto his back and he yowled in pain. It was sharp, pain shot up his back and his vision flashed. On top of the pain he'd already been through at the hand of Ira his yell brought forth fresh tears. He hid his face, Balfour's fingers still entwined, but his other hand going to his mouth to cover it and try and suppress the cowardly noises.

He missed what Balfour spoke to Hannah apart from the parting words:
"… back before the night is through."

"No, don't go, please don't go!" He sounded desperate, his nose although clear of blood was now streaming from the body's natural reaction to sharp pain and his watering eyes. "Don't go near her - she -" He twisted, trying to sit up as Hannah was tending to him much to the healer's irritation. She pressed firmly on his shoulder to encourage him to lie still again. His bruised face, streaked with tears was unnaturally red and fearful.

"Balfour she's not your friend, she's a -" He couldn't manage to express politely his thoughts on Ira Almasy, and it came out incoherently as best as the pain from his back shot through him. Something he couldn't see held him still, and his face was pressed into the makeshift examination table, muffling his urgent protests as he was to keep absolutely still.

"She'll kill you - please - Balfour - don't - I love you, don't do this-." The pain from whatever Hannah was doing back there hit him suddenly and he gasped, unable to move or form further words to try and stop the other wizard's departure, eyes screwed shut.

For the second time that night he hoped with all his might that this would not be his final glimpse of Balfour, even if it was the wizard this time and not their lunatic landlord.

He jumped slightly at the sudden yell, Hannah having accidentally spilled more potion on the wound than he supposed she meant to. The grip on his hand strained tighter and Balfour looked anxiously at the other wizard - expecting protest but not the ardent manner in which it was delivered. It was all at once touching and gut wrenching to hear, and to see the tears in Johann's eyes. A part of him nearly relented, would have stayed when asked.

Except... this courage had a time limit. Balfour was soft-hearted, and aware of it. If he did not go now he would never be able to face Ira with the appropriate ferocity that such an act of betrayal deserved.

Johann thrashing to sit up, however, clearly wasn't sitting well with the Healer in their presence.

"She'll kill you - please - Balfour - don't - I love you, don't do this-." he was  mercifully cut off. Balfour glanced at Hannah to confirm that she had done something to keep her patient in a silent, stationary state. Well. Now wasn't the time to worry about her bedside manner.

He untangled his fingers from Johann's, gestured at the witch to hold off a second so that he could lace his hand through the back of Johann's curls and place a long kiss against salty, tear-stained lips; their foreheads pressed together. The noxious perfume had dispersed and now there was only the scent of medicine and familiar, clammy sweat. "I love you too." Balfour drew away with a soft expression, pleading with his eyes for Johann to trust him on this.

"I know what she is, and she won't kill me." If Ira wanted either of them dead they would already be dead, so he surmised they were at least safe from that fate for now. "I promise I'll be back. Nothing could keep me from you." He let go of the dark curls and looked up at Hannah with a sombre expression.

Balfour had a vague idea of where their Landlord might be this night, if she had as much a sense of humour about this as she did everything else in her life. "Thank you, Hannah. I'm sorry we had to meet again this way." He drew his wand, glancing back at Johann only once before leaving the two of them to it.

The spell or whatever it was holding him down released for a moment, and Johann struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. The kiss between them was tender, and when it released Johann felt exhausted.
"I love you too."

Please don't, please come back to me. Johann pleaded internally, but quietened by the look on Balfour's face. The one that told him not to argue, to be brave and trust him. His red eyes were narrowed, mouth taut with anxiety.

"I promise…" Johann let out a noisy breath that he'd been holding and his head dropped face down towards the table, eyes closing. He would count the minutes until his return if he could. At the sound of the front door, Johann balled his right fist and pressed it against the table before sinking his forehead down to it, left hand fingers gripped in his hair, crying silently. Ashamed and subdued as Hannah continued her work.


End