Continued from this post.


His progress took him so far as the threshold.  “Pratt?” he called, pausing to look in either direction for a shock of red robes.  Figuring Pratt had wanted out of the place, Adon  left the building altogether, entering the courtyard in front of the ancient building.  Ah, yes: a lone spot of red amidst the gothic stone.

Hands tucked in the pockets of his robes, he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he moved towards the man, assessing.  Trying to remember how he’d felt, after his father’d died, and trying to assess how Eddie’d be different.  Because these things were never the same. And no one ever “understood.” Adon hadn’t wanted to feel understood. He’d wanted to feel the pain. He wanted to be angrier—because it was easier than the pain—and he’d wanted to be alone.  But not deserted. Because that, with the death of a loved one, was the worst part. Deserted by the living and the dead alike.

In Adon’s estimation, Eddie’d get surly. He’d get angry—at least, if he was anything like Adon. And, probably, Eddie needed to.

His third year at Beit Gaddol, Adon had started a record number of fights and had nearly been suspended for it. It had lost him his initial candidacy for the position of Auror—he’d failed the character test.  But Adon didn’t regret it: it helped him see which friends would help him fight his enemies. And, when it was his friends he was fighting, it helped him see who would be patient.

Eddie wasn’t thirteen. He had children. And he wasn’t Adon. Adon didn’t know what would happen, but he wouldn’t be leaving, whatever happened.  “So,” Adon said idly. Smalltalk was pointless; it wasn’t genuine, and it wasn’t what either of them were thinking about. Much better for Eddie to open up or blow up.

“I had to go see me brother a couple of days ago.” Eddie muttered, narrowed green eyes staring out over the courtyard before the duo. His arms were crossed over his chest and he leant against a stone wall for support. “I had to tell ‘im that because of my job me mam wouldn’t be visitin’ him no more. She were made up he were gettin’ better. He were starting to remember things, people. He recognised me when I went in. Bloody surprise it were ‘cus I rarely go visit ‘im.” The words came out slowly, thoughtfully.

“Reckon I’ve put him back a few years, mind. Me Dad went in every day. Took him socks and biscuits and sat down with his diary making sure he put everythin’ in it from the day before. He took tons of pictures of family and friends to give Dan and help him remember. The job screwed Danny over. Some bastard delightin’ in the idea of turning his brain to the consistency of pumpkin juice. Mam never wanted us to be aurors. She thought she’d lose her lads. She were righ’.”

Eddie looked around to Eleor and shrugged. “If my kids said they wanted to sign up I’d say owt to put’em off. I wouldn't let'em” A chuckle escaped the blond auror before he cast his eyes back over the courtyard. “Don’t feel right hearin’ those kids talkin’ about how supportive their folks are gonna’ be. And these idealistic beliefs of what havin’ a shiny badge means.”

“I ‘ent really the bloke to be encouragin’ and recruitin’em right now.” Pratt offered his colleague a small smile. “I’ll leave the dragonshit to the specialist dragonshitters else we’ll be wading through it fer weeks, eh?”

Well, this was a surprise. Adon'd have ventured to say a pleasant surprise, but nothing about the circumstances warranted that; the doom and gloom of the situation tended to overshadow the thrill of being trusted enough to carry someone else's load for a while.

“I ‘ent really the bloke to be encouragin’ and recruitin’em right now.” Pratt offered his colleague a small smile. “I’ll leave the dragonshit to the specialist dragonshitters else we’ll be wading through it fer weeks, eh?”

Adon gave a lopsided smile to mirror Pratt's own. "Well," he said sheepishly, "we all have our gifts..." He was fairly certain talking a way out of--or into--anything was a mutual attribute of his partnership with Jonas.

He was quiet a moment, sucking on his teeth as he thought. There were the things he wanted to say, the things Pratt might want to hear, and then the few select comments that somehow had a shot of meeting both criteria. Adon wasn't in the business of being insincere. And while he was certainly in the business of angering people indavertently (and sometimes. . . advertently), it'd be best to avoid that, when possible.

"You care about your brother," he said with a nod, recapping. "Which makes this harder." If Eddie didn't care, he could walk away. He wouldn't feel the burden of caring for his young family (which, though divorced, he still took the full weight of), he could have just left his job, and left others to pick up the pieces, like Fox. People he didn't care much about. But he cared.

"Caring's a bitch, sometimes." He pressed his lips together, composing his next thoughts. “…Yeh,” he lamented.

The toe of his boot nudged the cracked gravel that lined the entry courtyard. He watched them roll and move as he shoved. "It wasn't all dragonshit, though, you know." He tilted his head back in the direction of the Great Hall. "What we said back there... It's a hard, unrelenting job that can suck out your soul, and the only way we make it through it is that we take turns through the hard things. I think, with the way things have been, we—or at least I—acknowledge that it could have been any of us.” He stopped abruptly before taking a breath, leaning into his next words.

“It wasn’t—sure as hell wasn’t—and I understand that, but it could have been. It still could be. And I think. . . for me. . . that’s not something I take lightly. This wasn’t your fault, and. . . well, it’s not even accurate to say it’s your job’s fault, but that’s nearer to the truth than anything.” Besides outright blaming Dugan. Who, really, was responsible for all this. “So your job—and people at your job—are here, you know. That—that was no dragonshit.” He gave another crooked smile. “Might not be worth much, but I would like to think it’s something.”

He ran a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. “As for your brother—I’d imagine he didn’t express it much, but. . .your visits are all he has, now. I can’t really imagine he takes to new faces well, but if you’d like me to swing by—maybe after work some nights—I wouldn’t mind. It’s not too far off my beaten path,” he lied. A momentary pause. “Jonas’s shown me a few decent pubs near there.” Jonas hadn’t shown him the pubs, per se, but he’d smuggled some booze in for him when he’d been laid up. He ventured another, subtle smile. “But I don’t really drink alone, most times, so you’d have to come.”

Stubbornness—euphemistically called resiliency—was an attribute in this business. And he wasn’t going to let Eddie lose it. Right now, Eddie was wavering. A gust of wind could send him hurtling over the barrier towards Determinedly Not Caring. It was easier, just letting yourself fall, but it was one hell of a height.

But thus far, Eddie’d stuck it out.

“Actually, I have booze now,” he commented before fishing into his robes for a flask. He unscrewed the top to tilt it back. With a quiet curse in Hebrew, he replaced it and fished in the opposite pocket. “Here. This one’s full.” He was in the process of offering before he retracted his hand quickly, thinking better. After one swig, he once more offered it. “I actually don’t know what it is, but it hasn’t killed me yet.”

Whether or not Adon’s words were spoken with a comforting intention, they didn’t have that affect.  Pratt never wanted to be the ‘caring’ auror. He wanted to be the emotionless auror that got the job done well with no fuss. He had different angles to his colleagues, saw things differently and provided them with new, interesting and helpful leads. He tried to keep the personal out of it. But as a father, a son, a brother and a husband, he’d always struggled. Whenever a kid was in danger, he threw himself in, not caring for the consequences. And when his family were in danger? Eddie did his damned best to protect them. It was personally and it hadn’t been any one of them, it had been his family to be targeted and attacked. It didn’t matter how much he tried to keep them private and away from work, they’d been dragged into it and permanently harmed.

Eleor kept talking and Eddie found himself wanting to silence the man and send him back to the great hall. His explaining Dan’s reactions and why he couldn’t be in that room hadn’t been an invitation to offer his own opinions or try to tell him it wasn’t his fault. Eleor may as well have been telling Ed’s ex-wife that no, that bump did not make her look like she was carrying heffa twins. Ed’s mind was set. Eleor’s words, however full of conviction they may have been, would not change his colleague’s opinion.

Soon Eddie was scowling. His head twisted to look at Eleor and bright green eyes darkened. “I don’t need coaxin' to see me own brother, Eleor.” Not now anyway. Now Ed knew he had to see Dan, to keep on with what his parents had done all these years since Daniel’s accident. And when Quincy was finally safe, she’d go see him, and Frank and his cousins could. “And I don’t need yer alcohol right now. We’ve got a job to do.”

Despite the coldness of Eddie’s words, as he pushed himself away from the stone column he’d been leaning on, he looked back at Adon, his expression softer than before. “He always appreciates visitors, mind.”