March 28, 1982 9:00 PM Mary’s Flat [ @theconstellationsinhereyes ]
Never had he felt as alone as he did now.
Even the monster had gone utterly silent, leaving his skull a cold and dark place, bereft of all fire and drawing hollow shadows beneath his eyes. Betrayal was a strange color on him; he’d done all he could to help get Mary back, and Daisy, Tilden, the others, and yet he hardly felt fulfilled by it. It had been the right thing to do, surely -- but when did he ever know the right thing to do? -- but even throughout the process of helping the Order of the Phoenix retrieve their people, he had been pushed aside like a liability waiting to break and hold them all accountable. And in doing so, he had fully and totally betrayed his allies; it was the first time he had made such a bold move, and while it had felt good in the moment, it left him feeling strange afterwords.
But more than for himself, for the fate of his own sanity, he was concerned for Mary. His Mary, his radiant lion, who he had neglected to watch as of late. He had saved her months ago, at the Minister’s Manor, but being in such close proximity with her and with the blazing fire had frightened him. It had brought about memories of childhood mistakes that had shaped him, that had incited the monster --
-- and even now, as he thought of her, the monster rumbled in its sleep, dragged toward wakefulness at the mention of the lion he loved so dearly. It was a strange sort of love, different than what he felt for Holly, or for Evan or Narcissa. It was a fierce, protective love, possessive in nature, but timid in execution. He knew good and well that if she died, a part of him would shrivel; while she had been gone, taken by his own friends, Nikolai had become sure enough of that. His Mary, made of fire and sun -- of course she could not belong to anyone; she never had and she never would. Not to him, anyway.
But he needed to see her, to see that she was alive, that the part of him she owned was still in tact.
He found himself upon her doorstep before he had a chance to think, empty-handed and fidgeting. Would she be remiss to see him, to let him in? Did she know that he had given up his information for her? Did she hate him, forgive him? As he knocked upon the door, he held his breath and willed the monster to be silent. Surely she was tired, surely she wanted to be alone. But her friends were largely scattered, some taken, some busy, and she was recovering from whatever it was Alecto had done to her; about which he was hesitant to ask. But there was no going back now; he needed her, just as the monster needed fire and oxygen in the same breath. Needed to be sure that she was alive, and well.
As well as she could be.