Revenge, Jonas was quite sure, was a dish best served cold.

He had bided his time.  Waited patiently.  Completely ignored the original offending action, even though he was certain that Tamis Raynor was herself waiting for some sort of reaction.  Making a scene about how he'd been outwitted just drew attention to the fact that she had scored another point, and considering the normal size of his former rival's ego, such an admission could be disastrous both for her health and his continued sanity.  Instead, the private investigator had kept his mouth shut, managing to get through one final week in Scotland and almost an entire day beyond that before he finally cracked and sent her the note.

He'd needed to talk to her anyhow.  Now that they were back from the north and everything had relatively returned to normal, Jonas felt less guilty explaining to the formerly-bedridden Auror about his latest ill-advised escapade.  He had promised Aberdeen Spencer to do what he could in finding her missing son, and getting Tamis Raynor's approval (and illicit aid) for the endeavor was essential to its success.  After taking some time to get things in order back at his office, he had sent off a quick letter requesting an audience.  He had been almost surprised when the reply came back so quickly.  Not only was Raynor willing to meet, but she claimed to be free later that evening.

The south bank of the River Thames had always been one of Jonas's favorite places to perambulate, but recently, the walk had become even more of a spectacle.  The trees that dotted the pavement had been turned into some sort of enormous modern art project, as bands of red wallpaper speckled with enormous white dots had been wrapped around their trunks.  The decorations, combined with the fairy lights that were draped through the branches, made the entire walkway seem like it had just been yanked from the fantasy landscape of a children's book.  Considering the offense that had been done to him, Jonas considered it an extremely appropriate landmark, and had cited it with very specific language when he had sent a reply to Tamis with a location and time.

He was not surprised when she didn't arrive by the hour that he'd cited.  Another half an hour crept by, and there still wasn't any sign.  Jonas took great pleasure in mentally picturing the petite woman as she desperately paged through London guidebooks and newspaper clippings, searching for any hint of what "watched trees" could mean in Muggle parlance.

By the time he finally caught sight of her, it was nearly eight o'clock.  Jonas grinned, clicking off the crossword puzzle game that he'd been playing on his phone, and sat up straighter on the bench that he'd been lounging on.  It was probably bad sportsmanship to make a grand show of checking an imaginary pocket watch as the woman approached, but he did it anyway.

"Took you long enough to find the place," he remarked smugly, beaming at her as he tucked his phone into his pocket.  "Almost like 'watched' isn't really a synonym for 'spotted' after all, innit?" 

Clearing his throat, the private investigator levered carefully himself to his feet.  "You want to get a coffee, Tam?" he asked, flashing her an enormous smile as he nodded to a nearby sandwich shop.  He could, after all, be magnanimous in victory.  Especially since he'd come here hoping to beg yet another favor off of the Head Auror.  "My treat.  Then we can find a place to sit and talk."

BBC News Article, 02 February 2009


It was whimsical – Magical, she heard a muggle couple murmur to each other as they meandered hand-in-hand among the Speckled trees. The petite woman disagreed; it was strange – and far too cold for a romantic stroll of the city.

Hands thrust deep into the pockets of her coat, snow crunched underfoot as the Head Auror progressed through the red and white trees humming with the glow of artificial light. Magical? Those were not even real Fairy lights.

Snow drifted from the sky as it had for most of the day, covering central London and a thick white blanket several inches deep. While most of the muggle services and transportation had come to a halt, their machinery and technology hindered by the frigid weather, but the true Magical community and its government had pressed on in the deep recesses beneath the oblivious population above.

Her first official day back, it had not been an easy one. Hunting for Tawse. The murders surrounding the adolescent nuisance at Hogwarts. There had been an anxiety to the office when she had (quite literally) pulled Edward Pratt out of her chair by his ear that morning. There had been relief, but there had also been questions and uncertainty. She had been unyielding, the epiphany of confidence, as she had been absent for almost a month. She had been what they needed her to be. The storm threatening Level Two was just going to get worse. She would be whatever she had to be to keep it from breaking under its wrath.

It had kept her longer than she expected. And then she had to decipher Jonas Trevelyan’s cryptic message. Oh how clever he had to have felt as she approached the man with hair as red as the “watched” trees, checking an imaginary time. She halted several feet away considering him with a deadpan stare and then shook her head, drawing closer offering him a tight-lipped, mirthless smile in return.

“Not in this case,” the smile transitioned into a more genuine, knowing smirk. Outsmart a man once on a crossword puzzle and he never let you forget it. 

Coffee. There was a reason he had asked her to meet him here. With Jonas Trevelyan there was always a reason. It was something they had in common. Gray eyes studied him, nearly the same shade as the beanie pulled low over her brow and about her ears. The warming charm put on her clothes kept her warm enough, but the trick was in the illusion.

“Tea will be fine,” she replied, acquiescing. Talk. Yes, he had mentioned that in his letter. He had just failed to mention then, as he did now, what he wanted to talk about. Inclining her head once, she waited for him to take the lead. She was dreading what that topic might be.

The private investigator nodded, straightening to his full height as he started off across the walkway.  He made his way slowly, the fresh snow crunching under the soles of his boots.  It hadn't been quite long enough for everything to start to melt and then ice over, but one could never be certain; considering how unsteady his balance could be when it was cold, the last thing he needed was to slip and fall.

It took nearly until they'd reached the sandwich shop to work the stiffness out of his bad leg.  Jonas nodded for Tamis to find a table, and then went to the counter to purchase a tea and a coffee.  He stuffed a handful of sugar packets and creamers into his pocket, and then carefully made his way over to where she was sitting, the two drinks in hand.

"I wasn't sure if 'tea' was supposed to be code for what I know you usually put in tea cups, but alcoholic beverages are a bit out of me price range at the moment," he informed Tamis cheerfully as he eased himself into the opposite chair.  He placed the cup of hot water with the floating generic tea bag in front of her, the coffee in front of himself, and deposited the cream and woolongs in the center, as if they were a peace offering.  "Hope the literal interpretation's alright instead."

He opened one of the cream containers and added it to his drink, giving himself a chance to gather his thoughts.  With the two of them, simple conversations had always been a contest of wills.  Who would win the day.  Who would be the first to make their purpose known.  Jonas could talk around subjects with the best of them, but for once, he just wanted to get it over with.  He'd made his point with the crossword puzzle.  Raynor didn't want to be here dealing with him.  It was best just to get to the matter at hand.

"So Aberdeen Spencer asked me to look into her son's disappearance," he remarked nonchalantly, peeling off the top of a second cream container and dumping it into the coffee as if he could turn it into a latte through sheer force of will.  The wording was important; as he had no intention of accepting payment, he wasn't technically hired on, although that was easy enough to dance around.  "Told her I'd have to clear it with you lot first.  Reckon I've gotten close enough to trouble with the Ministry recently; I'd hate to ruffle any more feathers."

Tapping the fingers of one hand against the table, Tamis Raynor surveyed the coffee shop with carefully concealed anxiety. Behind the counter where Jonas was ordering their drinks there was a frenzy of commotion. Machines whirling, steaming rising, and a worrisome almost incessant sound of grinding. The muggles in aprons moved about their strange instruments without concern. Likewise, the patrons scattering tables much like her own sat in various states of tranquility, equally unperturbed.  Coffee and tea in the muggle world was extremely complicated.

Caught in her peripheral vision, the Head Auror cast another sidewise glance at the muggle grinning at her from overtop his strange L-shaped box. It looked like Jonas’ phone but… bigger. The man’s grin widened at the attention and he tipped his hat at her. Raynor scowled back.  The grin froze and slowly dissipated  and clearing his throat, the muggle hunkered back down in front of his box, the sound of clicking resuming.

 Shaking her head, gray eyes rolled to the ceiling just as Jonas finally returned, dumping cream and woolongs in the center of the table. Studying them for a long moment, she claimed a sugar packet and wagged it at her red headed companion as he slid into a seat across from her.

One of her eyebrows rose, “Their value must depreciate in coffee shops. Is that why you paid in paper?”

Eyebrow climbing further, she lifted the teabag from the cup of steaming water and eyed it critically. A couple of drops of murky liquid dripped into the receptacle below. “The muggle literal interpretation is severely misinformed,” she commented wryly, but allowed the bag to drop back into the water with a “plop” to steep.

The mention of their last… social endeavor… more than a month prior made her stomach knot. She knew better than to convince herself this was an equally social adventure. Jonas Trevelyan was here because he wanted something from her. Was that a lead in? It was only a matter of time before Tait Aldridge came between them again. She had come prepared for it. But preparing for the reality and facing it were two different beasts.

As Jonas hinted at his financial difficulties, the Auror studied him with increasing care. Another reason she had agreed to meet with him. With the patience of a saint, she waited for the game. For him to make the first move. It was a direct approach this time, but not the one she expected.

She shifted out the woolongs as the private investigator made short work on the cream, counting them without adding them – listening. Robin Spencer. Aberdeen Spencer’s adoptive son and Raynor’s second cousin by birth. The toddler she had the chance to save but had failed to for letting personal sentiment get in the way. An investigation that had forcefully taken the back seat to finding Cináed Tawse.

“You would want access to Level Two’s records on the subject, then.” It was not worded as a question nor intended as one. The fact that Spencer would turn to an alternate source to find her son was not unsurprising. By Raynor’s own admittance, she could not put priority on finding the boy. She did her best not to take it personally. She shook her head, “the case is too high profile. I cannot authorize a civilian access to those files without drawing suspicion.” She was, at least, considering it. “But I could authorize an Auror.”

Raynor glanced up at him and lifted the tea to her lips. Her eyebrows furrowed at the taste and she quickly set the cup back down with a forced swallow. That. Was not tea.

Digs at his woolong-incompatible bank account aside, Jonas had had a very clear vision of how this conversation would go.  He'd lay out his intentions; Raynor would either readily cooperate, as she probably should considering how much he had assisted in recent weeks, or she'd question him and he'd make his case.  He'd rehearsed the argument in his head, as well: Level Two was overworked.  Limited resources would force Radley to prioritize finding Tawse over the toddler, but necessity didn't mean it was right. 

Someone should put Robin first.  An independent investigation could do that.  And an independent investigation with Jonas involved would be safer than one without.  The private investigator assumed that he'd already proven that he could work directly with Level Two, and he'd be less likely to take unnecessary risks than Spencer and her former-Auror allies alone.

He had had the conversation so perfectly rehearsed in his head that when Tamis Raynor immediately veered from the script, it nearly threw him for a loop.  No questions, no arguing, just a simple statement of what he'd need - though he was prepared to work without Level Two access, an exchange made sense and would make his job easier - as well as the simple assertion that he wasn't going to get it.  Her response was so matter-of-fact, so well-reasoned, that the lack of surprise it implied was literally frustrating.  She'd apparently come prepared.  It made him wonder if, save for the very first night when he'd appeared on her porch, he'd ever manage to take the woman by surprise.

Jonas took a deep breath, preparing to launch a protest, when she offered an alternative.  He glanced at her, forehead creasing, as blue eyes met gray. 

"Yeah, I can see how helping with a kidnapping would be a lot more sensitive than ferreting out a traitor within the Ministry," he remarked dryly, lifting his coffee to take a sip.  "Good on you for not letting a civilian like me near any of the really secretive bits.  I'd hate to think what could happen."

The action of taking a drink was a decent excuse to give him a chance to think, but even mitigated by container after container of cream, the bitter liquid was too hot.  Grimacing, he set the paper cup back down, biting his tongue as he met the Auror's gaze again. 

"You mean authorizing someone like Eleor?" he asked with a frown, mentally turning over her words.  "Giving him access instead?"

That was probably workable, though it would put Adon on the spot if there was political trouble.  But Tamis had come all the way out here to meet him.  In a snowstorm.  Prepared, for something.  It suddenly hit him that even if he had won the thesaurus battle in their war of wits, he might still lose the longer engagement.

Jonas shrugged, on guard now as he attempted to nonchalantly study her expression without looking as alert as he felt.  "Roundabout way of going at it, innit?" he inquired, slipping back into a line of logical reasoning that was closer to what he'd rehearsed.  He'd spent so long practicing his argument that it seemed a shame to waste it, even though this conversation felt like it was happening on a slightly different level.  "I'd be able to get more out of it if I can look through the files meself.  And you know I'll pass anything I find on to Archer, Tam," he pointed out carefully, picking up his coffee cup again for a second attempt.  "The exchange'd go both ways.  I might be able to help you lot out."

Gray eyes watched the man across from her carefully, unyielding as to her own thoughts as she vigilantly tried to determine his. Thus far, they had not been what she had anticipated. She had been certain he had come here to confront her about the events of early January, having given her sanctuary on them until she had resumed a respectable health. It had never occurred to her – thought it should have – that Spencer would seek out Trevelyan. She knew the kidnapping must not have been settling well with him, having helped facilitate it. Her guilt had no comparison to that.

Tamis felt a flicker of victory when Trevelyan seemed to find his coffee as distasteful as her tea. She shook a woolong at him again, but this time not for their “monetary” value.

He was irritated with her. A sentiment she was familiar with and in the past had often strived to provoke. The irony here was that it had been misinterpreted. Not that she had been very straight forward about it. Even as she said the words, she had hesitated on them. Arching an eyebrow, she pinned him with a look as if she were about to state the obvious. Which she was.

“The case I initially hired you for is a lot less public than those involving  Cináed Tawse.” She aligned the woolongs in ranks and shook her head, becoming more serious. She choose her words carefully, aware that the fellow in front of supersized, L-shaped eye-pond was still casting curious glances their way. “The people are paranoid; a decade is only a blink on our lifespan and memories. I have to tread carefully,” she said the last with distaste. In other words, it was political. She could not assign an outside man to finding a missing toddler because the politics were ill-advised. There were several times she hated her job, and herself, and that was certainly one of them.

Every move she made at the moment would be under scrutiny. The blizzard and biting cold was not being kind to her healing ribs and mending lung. She had not, yet, had time to seek out a Healer. Pride was not an easy mantle to bear. She could not afford admitting to the weakness. Raynor shook her head, “I cannot distract Eleor or Radley from their cases to assist you if you help Spencer.”

She physically hesitated then, sitting up (if possible) even straighter in her chair, racked with uncertainty. Her hand lingered on her hip, eyeing the redheaded man as if unsure if she was about to regret her next move. Then, her hand slipped into her pocket and retrieved something. She laid her palm flat against the table and when she drew it away a gleaming, goblin gold badge was left in its place. Figuring out what to do with that badge had been challenging. In the end she decided if it had to go to anyone it deserved to go to Jonas Trevelyan.

“But I can make your arrangement with Level Two more formal.” She stilled further explanation, waiting for the reaction.

The Auror's words struck him more than they probably should have.  The argument was perfectly logical.  People were nervous.  She had to be careful.  It was one thing for Tamis Raynor to trust him when no one knew about it, and quite another to do so when the case would shove him into the public eye.  Jonas scooped away a handful of her woolongs and dumped them into his coffee - one, two, and three after the other - and then swirled the cup to mix the sweetener into the now-milky mess, his expression carefully indistinct.

Tamis wasn't willing to take the risk and help.  Now that all the cards had been properly turned up on the table, even asking Adon to quietly pass on information would put the private investigator's friend at risk if he were found out.  Jonas sighed, risking a sip of the coffee.  He had known that the false camaraderie of the past few weeks was just that, but now that the paper tiger had been revealed, it was difficult not to feel frustrated that he wasn't owed anything more.

The sugar somewhat mitigated the bitterness, both literal and imagined, but he grimaced at the drink anyhow, seizing the opportunity to let his control slip.  He placed the cup back down again, prepared to say his farewell, and only stopped himself as it was joined on the table by something else.

 Tamis's words barely registered in the background as Jonas went very still, all of his attention focused on the badge.  This one hadn't been his, but he knew it anyhow; he'd known it even before its disappearance in a murder case had made the registration number infamous.  In the short time that they'd both been Aurors, he and Tait had found plenty of reasons to nonchalantly flash their new identification at each other.  In the office.  On cases.  Even grabbing a pint after work.  They'd both been so proud, though they had tried to treat the promotion as matter-of-fact.  Tait had earned his badge and had been rightfully ecstatic about it; fifteen years later, Jonas still knew it.

The private investigator glanced across the table at the Auror, regarding her with a quizzical look.  Carefully, deliberately, he placed his hands palms-down on the table, as if preparing for an unexpected assault, and then cautiously posed the first question that had entered his mind.  "Radley put you up to this, yeah?"

There was no sarcasm in the words as they left his mouth, even as he realized a moment later that the inquiry was rhetorical.  Without a doubt, Radley would put his girlfriend up to such a prank, and he didn't doubt that Raynor would carry through with it, but it wouldn't happen like this, alone in a coffee shop with no audience.  At the very least, Tamis would be gloating over her punchline; he couldn't read her expression well enough to know for sure what she was thinking, but she certainly wasn't gloating now.

Jonas took a deep breath, and then carefully picked up the badge, holding it by the edges as he turned it over.  It was unfortunate that it had probably passed through dozens of hands since its reappearance on January 2nd.  Metal held the oil residue from fingerprints better than most substances, and it wouldn't be too difficult to convince a friend down in Exeter to assist in analyzing any lingering prints.  Without any sort of central fingerprint records in the magical world, though, even a clear set would be of limited use.  He'd have to go individual by individual until he got lucky and found a match, and even then, identifying a suspect who didn't otherwise have reason to handle the badge might still prove impossible.

But right now, the badge wasn't intended as evidence.  Jonas turned it back over again, balancing it carefully in his hand as he examined the symbols on the front.  He knew them too, although they'd meant something very different back then.

"Tamis, I'm flattered," he said at last, and then added a qualifying, "I think.  But I don't think it could work."  He met her eyes across the table as he closed his hand around the familiar weight.  "I can't do magic.  And it's not just being out of practice - I can't.  No enchantments, no spells - I can't even get into Diagon on me own.  Can't apparate," he added, matter-of-fact.  "Hogwarts looked like proper ruins to me while we were there.  I'm as good as a Muggle now, I am.  I wouldn't be any use to you lot, even if it might give you reason to arrange me funeral a bit sooner."

It was difficult not to be distracted by the sheer number of confiscated woolongs Jonas showered into his coffee. By sheer will power she managed to keep eye contact and her expression pointedly neutral. Her companion was not quite so vigilant. His face did not alter, but his persona did. The wavering, testing trust that had begun to develop between them raveled back up as he shut the door on it and began to emotionally detach from her. She thought he might leave – but then he saw the badge.

Suppressing a pang of possessiveness, she watched as he gingerly lifted the badge, holding it awkwardly by its edges as if afraid to fully handle it. Becoming an Auror had been everything to Tait Aldridge. It had been the one issue Tamis had always disapproved of, but she had also known that if it had come to choosing the job or choosing her, he would have picked being an Auror. In many ways, in the end, that was the very choice he had made. That badge was as much of what was left of him as there could be. But it was not hers to keep.

Finally, his defensive attempt at humor aside, he answered her – and Raynor cringed. Magic. Diagon Alley. Apparating. Muggles – she glanced quickly around the Coffee Shop as if the offending word would suddenly bring the entire eatery down around their ears in an angry mob. Everyone remained absorbed in their odd gadgetry, typing and clicking away with heads bent. Even the fellow a table down seemed to have lost interest. She breathed a sigh of relief.

He was not of any use to her? One of her eyebrows quirked up in criticism. “In three months you have ferreted out corruption in our government, been contracted by two of the most wanted Wizards in England, and survived a mummy attack – not to mention what I am likely still unaware of,” she added dryly. “And you are a material witness to half my cases.” The eyebrow lifted higher, “That is more productive than most of my Aurors in a year. With Magic.”

“Helping desperate, out of work women from the kindness of your heart is not going to put food on the table.” Nor undercharging an old acquaintance who had more than adequate funds, but it was not worth bringing up. “If you are going to continue to risk your neck, you might as well take the benefits of a badge. That badge,” she added quietly, letting the debatably sentimental undertone slide. They were both fully aware as to whose badge that was. “At least your family will receive some compensation if you lose it.”

She shook her head and ran her thumbs along the outside of her cup. The unfamiliar white material was light and retained heat within the cup, yet the outer surface was bearable to the touch. It would have been quite fascinating if she allotted the time to become intrigued. Brows creasing, she picked her next words very carefully.

“The Corps is overworked and understaffed, Jonas. Civil unrest is growing.” Would she ever recover from what she was about to say? It came out resigned; and felt like she was having a tooth extracted just to admit it, “I need Aurors I can trust.”

His attention captured, Jonas listened intently as the Auror spoke, his forehead creasing as he took in her words, watched her expression.  He could have argued that he didn't spend most of his time helping out-of-work anyone, that most of what he did came with a demand for a fair rate, but the point still struck.  The constant uncertainty of living from paycheck-to-paycheck had always been wearing.  Tack on the fear of how things could go for his family if something did happen to him, and Raynor had a fair case.  Anna might be fine financially on her own, but neither she nor the children had any way to get magical protection without him there.

Despite the sudden pith of the conversation, the woman's last comment was enough to draw a grin out of him.  Jonas coughed as he set the badge down on the table,  pulling out his phone and tapping on the screen to activate it.

"Well, too bad you're still stuck with me, then," he replied, flashing her a wry smile as he called up the electronic calendar.  This was clearly the sort of quote that he ought to record and date for posterity.  "Although that's the second time that you've almost implied that you've trusted me, Tam.  Ought to be careful about that.  Once more and it might become a habit."

Messing around with his phone gave him a chance to mull over the woman's words.  Even without the familiar, heavy weight of the golden badge in his hand, the offer was still tempting.  As an Auror, divided loyalties became much more simple.  He wouldn't have to worry about ferreting out the motives of an employer or scrounging for work from one week to the next.  There was still the problem of working for the Ministry, certainly, but even that seemed much less urgent than it had in the months or weeks prior. 

Clicking the calendar closed, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.  "I need to talk to Anna," he informed Tamis without looking at her.  "And I ought to think about it, so it'll take me a bit to tell you one way or the other. 

"But," he added slowly, playing with the sound of each word on his tongue, "assuming I did say yes, reckon it seems proper that I get the same pay and benefits that I'd be at if I hadn't left, innit?  And I'd want a promise that I wouldn't just get stuck in the office, magic or not."  He tapped absently at the badge, mentally running through the logistics.  "I'd want to stay on the same few cases, too - the kidnapping bit for Spencer and the Runespoor mess with Eleor."  Jonas broke off thoughtfully, looking pensive for a moment, and then slanted the Auror a bemused look.  "Not that I want to start telling you your job, but he could probably use a partner on that one. Funny how he managed to go so long without getting one assigned to him."

The red-haired man tilted his head to the side, still visibly deliberating, and then gave a shrug.  "Either way," he remarked, flashing Tamis a smile as he directed a nod to the golden badge that bridged the gap between them on the table.  "The fact that I'm even considering this must mean that I'm willing to admit that the Ministry's not interested in chasing me anymore.  I seem to remember something about fair being fair, yeah?"

“An implication of desperation,” she smirked back. She inclined her head once when he mentioned talking it over with Anna, having expected as much – then came the “but”. The infamous but.

The demands began. Raynor’s pride automatically tingled. She was not used to having conditions thrown at her, usually, she was the one throwing the weight around and she had become accustomed to that. The truth was that in this situation Jonas Trevelyan held the upper hand; he had something that she wanted. And however she might convince him that he was enticed in return, in the end he still held the power to close the deal. Knowing this and letting him know she knew this were two very different beasts. She was willing to face the first one.

She met him with a steady gaze, fingers still subconsciously investigating the white, feather-light surface of her cup. Her lip twitched, not quite guiltily but not quite innocently as Jonas commented very nonchalantly on the status of Adon Eleor’s lack of a partner on cases Trevelyan had coincidentally been investigating as well.  “Funny indeed,” she agreed neutrally.

“I had no intention of removing you from the drug-trafficking investigation,” she allowed, still not willing to allow too many suspicious words to filter out to Muggle ears.  “And your arrangements with Spencer are advantageous,” she added honestly. Then much more quietly, “Spencer has been through more than she should have. No one on Level Two wants her to suffer more.”

Tamis had not yet been to see the woman. She should have known she was Imperioused when she was used to attack Robards. She had lost the opportunity to return her child to her because she had hesitated. If she had not sat on her hands for so long with Tawse, letting him nibble at freedom to get a better idea of what he was doing, Aberdeen might not have gaps in her memory and her son would have never gone missing. But the Head Auror had learned long ago that dwelling on what ifs did not solve anything. But she could still feel the weight of them.

“Several of your… connections…” she arched an eyebrow at him, thinking of one Wanted Wizard in particular, “are convenient. If you decide to return as an Auror, I would like you to consider still keeping up the Private Investigator front.” Which would give him more freedom in the field but have the backing of Level Two’s resources. “Then I can tell myself you are not risking that neck anymore than you would have otherwise,” she added dryly.

“As for your salary,” she smirked at him and leaned forward on her forearms, clasping her hands together in front of her. One could swear there was the tiniest hint of a mischievous spark laughing in those hawk-like eyes. “How about we pay you a normal Auror’s wages in gold and Senior Auror bonus in woolongs,” it was worded as a question, but it was not a question. “Less hassle exchanging currency.”

The next comment came with the force of a slap to a face and Tamis corrected her posture, abandoning the horrid tea all together. Her mood immediately sobered and her color paled at the sudden cool seriousness. She nodded once. “I thought that was why you asked to meet me here,” she finally admitted. She watched him wearily. Knowing and expecting had been one thing, actually faced with the reality of giving up a secret she had carried for fifteen years was quite another.

But Jonas Trevelyan was asking. The one person who deserved to know. And she had promised herself that should he asked, she would give it to him. She just had not thought he would ask. “Fair is fair,” she agreed quietly, and pulled a second item from her pocket.

She held up a small vial, a whispy metallic liquid twisting and turning inside of it. She hesitated – he was not going to be able to view it here, she reminded herself. He was not going to be able to see it now. She put it on the table next to the badge, watching the two items side beside with undivided attention. Not willing to look up at him. “That should meet the terms of our bargain,” she said. “And it might aide Eleor and your investigation.” 

The private investigator stayed silent, listening carefully as Tamis Raynor responded to his terms.  She agreed readily to letting him stay on his chosen investigations, though the response to his comment about Adon made him suspect even more that he'd fallen victim to a longer con than he had expected.  Adon's resemblance to Tait was remarkable, both in terms of his personality and his current career situation, and Jonas felt certain in suspiciously concluding that the younger man's lack of a partner hadn't been by chance.  The Head Auror had apparently been laying the groundwork for this for far longer than he had even dreamed of considering it.

Tamis deftly avoided mention of his second condition; that was something he'd have to push later, once he decided whether or not he really wanted to go through with this.  If he rejoined the Ministry again, magic or not, Jonas wasn't about to let himself get stuck pushing papers behind a desk.  Her countered request that he keep his private investigator 'front' made sense.  There was always a chance that he might happen upon something useful, and the license itself could come in handy when interacting with Muggle authorities.

He had been prepared to consider, to deftly deflect until he had enough time to make a decision, but the offer of pay - much more generous than he had expected - made him blink.  Jonas squinted at the woman, surprise clearly showing on his face as he calculated the exchange rate from Senior Auror salary to sugar packets.

"Ah," he said at last, taking a deep breath.  "That might be a starting point for discussion.  Reckon getting it in pounds sterling might be a bit easier, though.  There's been quite a bit of fluctuation recently in the woolong exchange market."

As always, though, the Head Auror appeared to have more than one reason for the conversation.  It took Jonas a moment to place the swirling, shimmering smoke inside the vial.  He paused, regarding it for a long moment, and then glanced up, his eyes flickering over the woman's expression as if he could read her intent in it.

It was, he knew, quite the gesture on Tamis's part.  He'd seen her on the twenty-first of December; he knew what Tait Aldridge's death still held over her.  But her explanation didn't feel right.  This wasn't supposed to be a bargain; he wasn't considering a return to the Auror Corps just because he thought he was getting something in exchange.  He wanted to be there.  The protection it offered was convincing, certainly, and the generous offer of pay had helped as well - but there was even more to it.  Archer and Tamis and now Adon - he didn't want to be at odds with them.  He missed the camaraderie that came with Level Two.  It had been over a decade since he'd had any sense of purpose, and he missed that, too.  Becoming an Auror wouldn't remove the shades of gray in the world, but it made it much easier to stand in the light.

Jonas opened his mouth to explain all that, to start the argument anew - and then paused.  This wasn't about having one over on his old school rival.  He could let Tamis win, even if she wasn't right.  If she had gotten the courage to turn over her memory of her ex-fiance's death by making it part of a game that he wasn't sure that they were playing anymore, the least he could do was let her maintain whatever illusion she was hiding behind.

"Thanks," he said, closing his hand around the vial.  The past felt colder than it should have in his hand, but he could contemplate what it meant, what he would see, when he was somewhere far away from here.  "Reckon that makes us even, then.  Although I have to admit, I was sort of hoping for the slippers," he admitted, flashing her a crooked smile.  "Bit more utilitarian that way, yeah?"

“Perhaps muggles should stop putting them in their tea, then,” she suggested merrily. As if it made the most logical sense in the world. “Really decreases their value.” It was very, very difficult not to laugh at his expression. She managed, certainly not allowing herself to do that. Raynor also, quite notably, did not discuss this matter of pounds. The Aurors had a payroll budget and, “Perhaps we should discuss it more if the need is there,” he would have enough adversity to face without deal with Aurors catching wind the he was getting paid more than them – and if he was, they would find out. Especially Pratt. Raynor swore he could smell a raise on a person’s paycheck.

There would be Aurors that would dislike him and it could be a rough beginning, but Tamis could not bring herself to pity him in that respect. She had gone through it herself, he had not been innocent in the dishing out of it either; none of them had. If she could survive – make the best of it, she reminded herself – he could as well.

If he really wanted to rejoin the Aurors, it would not be an issue.

There was a certain level of irony, watching the small pulsing vial sit dormant next to Tait Aldridge’s old badge. She felt a ridiculous level of anxiety until his hand wrapped around it in turn, at least hiding it from sight. He thanked her and she remained silent. She did not believe it was a moment worthy of thanks, she had done her best to covert that memory for many years; no one was going to thank her after seeing it. Especially no one that knew Tait. He did not call her out on her referring to giving him the memory as an agreement to terms. That, she could have thanked him for. If she was that kind of person.

Deflection with sarcastic humor – at least he was consistent. It won him a fleeting smile, “there is only room in the world for one utilitarian slipper wearer. You would do best to remember that if you try and tell anyone else.”

The humor quickly faded though. While she might not wish to express her inner most darkest concerns and feelings about giving him one of the missing links in the Runespoor investigation, there was one point that needed to be said. She nodded her head to his closed fist.

“Too often we remember a person for their final moments,” she told him, gray eyes meeting blue. If Tamis Raynor ever pleaded, it was damn near close. “Celebrate the man who lived, not the man who died.” Otherwise that memory could haunt him the way it had haunted her for fifteen years. She almost said more – she look like she wanted to say more – but then she shut down on him, closing her mouth and nodding her head once.

Collecting her things she made to get up, too emotionally uncomfortable to continue sitting there, “thank you for the tea.”

The sting of her last words made the vial in his hand feel even colder.  He didn't want to think about Tait Aldridge's death, didn't want to contemplate how his friend had died or what would have made Raynor issue this final warning.  But he'd have time to prepare for it, and viewing the memory was something he had to do.  Not for Tait; not even for Tamis, though he imagined that he owed her that much now that she'd made the gesture of giving it to him.  But the bloody mess of the Runespoor trade had gone on for too long, and it was beyond being personal anymore.

Tamis stood to leave, and Jonas stayed still for a moment, his mouth pressed tightly closed and the memory gripped firmly in his hand.  That was the rub of it, though.  It ought to be beyond being personal.  During the last war, as grim as the situation had been, the Aurors had never truly been the last line of defense.  There had always been whispers of the mystical Order of the Phoenix, some supposed secret organization that worshipped a fifteen-year-old kid as their martyr and was taking a stand against You-Know-Who even when the Ministry failed to do so.  The Auror Corps had been used as a military, but they had been just that - soldiers and detective inspectors all rolled into one, battling a multi-headed serpent until the day it had managed to slither inside them and start destroying them from within.

But it had never been personal.  It had never felt out of control.  And it was now.  Adon, panicking in his car when his older brother had been possessed.  Tamis hunting down a known revolutionary without even bothering to tell her team where she was going.  And Archer, who had rushed into a burning building without a thought for the safety of anyone but the woman he loved.

"Tamis."  He spoke quietly but with purpose, looking up from the memory in his hand to meet her gaze.  "Look.  This is as a friend, not as -"  He paused, and then gestured, rolling the rival-contractor-possible employee labels into one wave of his hand.    Even discussing the problem was personal.  In some ways, it had to be.

"Look, I know you've all been through a lot," he said, speaking quickly, each word short and clipped as it tumbled out.  "I've seen it with you, and I got a sense of it from Arch the other night when he was talking about what he went through during the war.  But from the outside, it just seems like a bit of a mess, yeah?  You with running in after Tawse, without ever calling for backup first.  And Radley could've gotten us all killed, the way he went tearing in after you without a thought to anybody else."

This line of conversation felt oddly like selling Radley out.  He cared deeply about his former partner; Archer Radley had taken him under his wing and trained him, had been a steady presence in his life until he'd found a new one in 1997.  Exposing his stint as Leeroy Jenkins to the man's boss and hypothetical lover (although Jonas was not particularly excited in allowing his thoughts to consider that possibility) could very clearly be painted as stabbing the man in the back. 

But Tamis needed to know.  And no one else seemed to be willing or able to tell her that none of this was right.

"He was the senior Auror on the scene," he said clearly, brows raising as he met her eyes.  "He went charging into the house after you when he should've been holding back to give orders.  A proper panic, shouting things left and right, none of it making any sense and not taking the time to think about it.  If it wasn't for Eleor jumping on the flames, we would've lost Tawse's mum.  I couldn't've gotten her out.  We might've lost the lot of us."

This sounded far too much like an indictment, and he knew how Raynor's mind would operate.  She'd want an escape, go searching for an excuse - that wasn't the answer.  It wouldn't change how she or Radley thought.  And if, after fifteen years, he managed to snuff out the other strong relationship that his best mate's fiance had finally managed to find in her life, he rather thought Tait Aldridge would find a way to reach up out of the grave and strangle him.

"I know it's personal with the two of you, and if you use this as an excuse to cut him off, I'll sit outside your flat every night for a month and potential employment be damned," Jonas informed her in what he hoped was a matter-of-fact tone.  There was no room for discussion there. "But it seems like there's an awful lot of bloody personal bits with this Auror Corps, isn't there?  Radley and you.  Adon and his brother.  Spencer and her kid.  Even you and having something to prove with Tawse, it seems like, yeah?" 

He took a deep breath, meeting Tamis's gaze steadily.  "And that's all well and good," he concluded, "because we've all got to have something to care about, but if you lot keep rushing into things like this, it's not going to take much for the other side to use it against you.  Someone'll make another mistake, and the next time, somebody's going to get killed."

It would have been more comforting if the small café had actually gone silent. Instead it had just… stilled. Neglected electronic gadgets and gizmos beeped and chimed and blurped into the muted air, demanding the attention of their distracted owners without prevail. While Jonas had started out in a controlled tone, he had not finished that way. The muggles in the immediate vicinity stared because they had overheard. The ones in the back stared because the ones closest were staring.

Tamis Raynor just stood there, wishing she had not turned back at the sound of her name. She could not even scrounge up the dignity to blush.

It was best not to count how many times Jonas had used the word “Auror” in that little speech.  Part of her was too abashed to try.

Finally she cleared her throat.

“Outside,” she told him. Without waiting, she turned on her heel and exited the muggle locale. The cold blizzard air cut sharply at her mending ribs as she inhaled, but she ignored it, leaning back against the side of the building.

“I am not going to ‘cut him off’,” she began sharply when he appeared, looking at the “Watched” Trees in the distance. Somehow it felt like the most vital point to respond to, even if it did make her sound like a bar tab. “But I will have to talk to him. As his superior, I will talk to him,” she clarified. She shoved her hands into her pockets and brooded that for a moment, letting stay snowflakes congregate in her hair. Archer had tried to get her out first. Jonas had not come out and said it, but had left enough close for the fact to come out and slap her in the face. Proper panic. Eleor handling the flames. Jonas, with his bad leg, left to carry the heavier of the two women. She did not have to guess what Archer had been doing.

“I would not have done the same,” she also felt she needed to clarify. One, she would not have been able to lift him. He weighed… a lot more than she did. And she would not have lost her rational. She was not proud of the fact.

The facts on his understanding of her motivation for going to the Tawse household were misconstrued. Mostly as he did not have all of them. She could only guess that Anna Tawse had Robin Adani in her position. If she had responded to a letter from her aunt asking her niece’s assistance with a host of Aurors, and had been wrong, she would have lost that fragile connection. Cinaed Tawse was not supposed to have been there. It had been a horrible coincidence. If not for Christian Colburn, Tamis very well may have perished that night… but it was not worth mentioning. While it may be made her seem fractionally less idiotic it did little to undermine the personal vibe of the investigation.

“Wars are always personal, Jonas,” she finally told him, shifting against the wall, ignoring the pain in her chest not as successful of a venture as she pretended. “If there is nothing in it for the combatants, they would have no reason to fight.” She did not mean that as a jab at Trevelyan from running away from the Second War, but it was a good example.

Most of the fight against the up and coming revolution had been reluctant. In her opinion, the lack of rushing into things might have been the problem. But for once, she was not looking to argue him. “I will talk to Archer,” she said quietly again. She opened her mouth, looking like she might say more but then shook her head. “As for Eleor…” One side of her mouth quirked in a half-hearted smirk, not lacking in irony. “You are his partner,” badge or not, “perhaps you can figure him out.”

For all of the energy that she put into planning dramatic entrances, Tamis Raynor didn't have nearly the same flair for exits. Without even a warning, she transitioned from staring dumbly at him to moving out the door in a flash.  Jonas was left blinking after her, grabbing for both badge and coffee as he hurried as best he could in the woman's wake.

The cold air hit him in a rush as he exited the restaurant.  Tamis was waiting a few yards away; Jonas let out a quick breath against the cold as he limped after her, suddenly conscious of the warm coffee and equally warm metal clutched in his hands. 

She started in immediately as he reached her.  Jonas stared past her, his expression guarded as he listened.  Obviously, she'd have to talk to Radley.  Archer was probably going to murder him, but it still had needed to be said. 

The underlying meaning of the rest of her speech was not any easier to swallow.  Archer and Adon had never said a word to him about leaving; Jonas could only assume that his former partner understood why he had vanished and stayed away for so long, and he was certain that Adon did.  Raynor had mentioned his extended absence indirectly before, but she'd never pushed the subject.  It was obvious that the undercurrent was still there.

"I know that wars are personal," he said shortly.  The woman's words stung as much as the cold did, so he shifted position, stuffing the hand with Tait's badge in his pocket as he avoided meeting her gaze.  "But when they get too personal, that's when mistakes are made.  This is the first time in a decade that I've been able to say that I have friends, Tam," he added, quietly and gravely.  "I'd hate to see it end with any of you lot getting killed."

Despite the subject and the tension, the comment about Eleor was enough to make him crack a smile.  Jonas rubbed at his chin, doing a poor job of hiding his pleased expression as he faked a sip of coffee.

"Good luck to me with that," he replied dryly.  "And that's assuming I say yes, innit?  Give me a week to think about it all."  He looked up at the cloudy sky with a sober expression, each word deliberate and crisp as he spoke.  "After all, reckon I'd look like a git if I went and disappeared on you twice, yeah?  It'd be a bloody shame to put you through filing all of the paperwork just to realize that I still don't have a reason to fight."

Which was really the start and the end of it.  Did he really want to do all this again?  Being an Auror hadn't ended well the first time, and by all accounts, the magical world wasn't much improved.  The danger was growing, and signing on for a second go with Level Two wasn't going to make him any friends.  When he'd left the first time around in 1997, he'd had little to lose.  Having a family certainly raised the stakes.

With a sigh, Jonas pulled the badge out of his pocket, holding it by the edges as he studied its face again.  Tait's badge.  Taken by his murderer and only recently returned.  This was the part of the conversation where he should really return it to the Auror, tell her to keep it until he had made a decision.

"You mind if I hold on to this for a bit?"  The question made him feel self-conscious even as he said it; Jonas shifted position, forcing a smile that was less genuine than usual as he barely glanced in Raynor's direction.  "Not that I want to start flashing it around before I've decided if there's anything in it for me, mind.  I just have a hunch that I'd like to run down."