I wanna find another daydream, another nightmare

[thebreakingwave]

CHARACTERS: Harry Potter & ???
LOCATION: Triple Hit: M&M's rooms, the med bay's incinerator (optional), and some part of the gardens.
WARNINGS: Death, some gore.
SUMMARY: After returning to the Tranquility, Harry has a few final chores he feels responsible for.
NOTES: If you'd like me to put up a prompt for him visiting the med bay, let me know and I'll cobble it together.


Mairon and Melkor's Quarters

It’s an ugly job, but someone has to do it.

Someone has to go and visit Melkor and Mairon's old rooms, sort through their things, and dismantle any magical traps that might have been left behind. Familiar, perhaps overly so, with their pretences and skills, Harry reasons that he's a good fit for the unpleasant duty. It's being pragmatic, not giving into a guilty conscience or an over-active sense of responsibility.

He does not tell anyone where he's going, but as he works he wards the doorway to give him notice of visitors and leaves the door itself open. No secrets here.

Oxygen Gardens

There's a little, cheap blue plastic bag in his hand. It's neatly sealed and he hasn't buried it or opened it, but it's there and it feels as if it weighs more than it actually does. Sitting on the grass, Harry looks out into the depths of the gardens, past the neat rows used for cultivation and into the wild heart of the thing.

Since he got onto a returning shuttled, he'd felt cold, almost empty, but the rust of returning emotion isn't welcome. It hurts. His anger is hot and burns worse than the brand on his chest. There's no target for him and so all he's left with is a new set of regrets, another scar, a few pictures, and this thrice-damned bag of ash.

Comments

gardens!

[doggedly]

Prior to the strange message left on his device, and the jaunt down to Arima, things with Harry had been going surprisingly well. Or that's Sirius' assessment of the situation, anyways. They meet up occasionally to work on the animagus transformation, and sometimes they see one another outside of that, but generally they both have things and people that take up their time outside of those run-ins.

Which is a little strange, if he thinks about it. He ought to be better friends with James' kid--who is also his godson, by all accounts. And it's not that Sirius dislikes Harry, but there's an undeniable distance there. Blessedly, it's coming to feel a little less of a distance, lately, since they've found their footing around one another. More or less. He can't quite tell if that's a one-sided feeling or not.

Anyways: the point is, Sirius got the strange message and tried to ring Harry back, and hadn't been able to. And then they were sending shuttles to Arima and Sirius had jumped on the chance to get off of the ship--he'd message Harry when he was down there, he told himself, but then their devices hadn't worked, and yeah, so he'd been keeping an eye out for him, but they never quite ran into one another, and then there was all of the drinking that Sirius did, and the run-in with Snape, which he'd really rather never think of again--

So what it all comes down to is that when Sirius is walking in the garden and catches a chance glimpse of Harry--well, that's the first time that he's seen him in quite some time. Should have sought him out before that, maybe, upon their immediate return to the ship--too late for that now, no time like the present, et cetera--and so he switches directions and wanders over to him.

Sirius stops a short distance away, glancing at the bag that Harry's got. He plucks his cigarette from his mouth and taps the ash from the end as he tries to work out what might be in that bag.

"Care for an interruption, Ptolmey? Or is it better to be left alone with your thoughts and, er, bag."

[thebreakingwave]

The plastic is semi-translucent, so once he's close enough, Sirius ought to be able to see that there's a fine, light coloured powder inside the bag. It's ash.

"No, I don't mind the company. Pull up some sod?" He shuffles over just a bit to make room for Sirius to settle. Harry is visibly subdued today and looks tired - physical recovery and conflicting emotions takes its toll. "You make it down to the colony? Get a look around?"

He's fairly sure that he didn't see Sirius among the captives or with those who fought and brought down Melkor and Mairon.

[doggedly]

Casually, bonelessly, Sirius tosses himself down onto the ground beside Harry, leaning back on his elbows. There's something off here, he can tell--it wasn't obvious at first, but now that Harry's speaking with him, he notices it. And the ash in the bag is a little weird, but, all right...

"Yeah, I got all sorts of souvenirs. It was something." And then got Apparated back to the shuttles by Snape, but Sirius is very pointedly not thinking of that incident, not any more than he has to. "So you were down there as well, then? I looked for you, but didn't see you."

Possibly because you were in the ash shop.

[thebreakingwave]

"I didn't a chance to get out and really see much of it," he replies with something that looks as if it ought to be a smile, but it's a bit too sharp-toothed. "But I guess that's just how it goes."

At least his part in the whole mess isn't common knowledge. Not yet.

"Why don't tell me about all the brilliant things I missed out on? And tell me what you brought back to share." Harry nudges Sirius' leg, relaxing a little, but doesn't quite flop back on the grass like his friend.

[doggedly]

Having a massive hangover for a day after Arima has helped to keep Sirius out of the loop. But he's over the hangover now, and he's no more observant than he ever is--but the weirdness that is Harry's current mood doesn't exactly need a detailed map. The smile is weird, and the tone--and it's all eased a little when Harry relaxes his posture, but Sirius still looks at him for a moment too long, weighing this.

He isn't sure how he'd ask what's wrong. Is there anything wrong? Yes? Didn't get to see much of it could be a bitter little joke, but he's missing crucial information that would make that joke funny and understandable.

"Yeah," he says, vaguely, and then puts a smile on his face, rallying--if Harry doesn't want to talk, he won't make him-- "Well, they had just about everything for sale. Anything you could think of. I've got loads of stuff, you should drop by sometime and sort through it all. Cigarettes, I restocked on those--no fire whiskey still, but I'm learning to live without."

Another beat, and he asks, with deliberate steadiness, "Where were you, if you weren't out exploring?"

[thebreakingwave]

"Pity. I'd brought along a few things I'd made to trade, but I'll take you up on that offer." He pauses and considers his mood and temperament before continuing, "Just not today."

When Sirius asks his last question, the knife edge remains to Harry's expression and there's a subtle, strange change to his body language that should remind Sirius he's sitting near a fairly dangerous young man. Harry's temper appears to be restrained, it is not entirely controlled.

"Did you ever met Melkor or Mairon?" He's not much of a hand-talker, but when he mentions their names, there's an aborted gesture towards the plastic bag.

[doggedly]

The sharpening is all-over--not just in expression, but in posture, in temper--familiar to Sirius. Not in Harry, maybe, he doesn't know Harry that well--but he knows anger, black moods and bad tempers. Years and years of experience with his own have done a good job of educating him.

In Harry, it's different. He doesn't run as hot as Sirius does in anything--and it seems anger is no real exception to that. He hasn't hexed any nearby immobile objects, for instance--but perhaps he already has, or he has yet to, or perhaps the whole of the situation is too much to be contained in expressions like those.

Regardless, this is something--and something that ought to be treated with care, and so Sirius only says, neutrally--as he glances at the plastic bag, and draws a conclusion of is that them?-- "No. Heard their names, I s'ppose. Didn't talk with them."

He glances at Harry instead, away from the bag of ashes. "What happened?"

[thebreakingwave]

When he was younger, his temper ran more in line with Sirius'. He used to shout and rail against what he felt was unfair, but he's grown up and his temper hasn't cooled so much as gone cold. He's so very angry at himself and at Melkor and Mairon - his dead, stupid friends who turned out to be very poor friends, indeed.

"That's for the best. They planned and failed to carry out a sort of rebellion. Took a few people from the ship hostage, some to be useful, some to be used...they used them for parts, Sirius. Butchery," he almost growls out. There's a low, sibilant anger curled below his breastbone. "When you said you could buy and sell anything on Arima, you weren't wrong and clean, healthy meat and organs goes a long way to filling a coffer."

"They used something worse than the Imperius Curse to make people follow them. I know what that feels like and I can shake it off, have been doing so for years." Harry gestures that he still has more to say and he would appreciate if Sirius gives him a moment to get it out. "We learned the Unforgivables in fourth year. How to defend and how to cast. They say, being able to do that damages a wizard, makes him susceptible to other forces. They're not wrong, I'd wager."

[doggedly]

Sirius is more than willing to give Harry the room to get any of this out--mostly because he's taken off-guard by the extent of the story. Parts, butchery--his posture sharpens a little at that, his eyes narrowing. He wouldn't have been in the right places to see things like that for sale, right? Not at the open bazaar--livers nestled among the scarves and the trinkets. They weren't that stupid, surely, whoever this they were. Melkor, Mairon--whatever contacta they had on Arima--

He wants badly to interject something, ask some question--nearly does, a few times, but manages to restrain himself, to let Harry talk. He needs to talk, it seems; he says a great deal, and all of it in this chilly cold voice that Sirius can recognise, even if it doesn't run with his own expressions.

But it's the last bit that's somehow more chilling than any suggestion of butchery. Sirius looks around at Harry, studying him for a moment in silence.

"You mean you," he says, finally. It seems like stating the obvious, but he has to be certain. "You were-- what did they do?"

What did they have you do, is maybe more accurate. But he doesn't ask it.

oxygen gardens

[inafadingcrown]

Galadriel has not left the gardens often since their return. She has almost haunted them- a quiet, sad figure lingering in the background. She certainly hasn't sought out company.

But the sight of Harry sitting there and the knowledge of what he must be feeling is enough to overcome that, at least for now. She says nothing, but seats herself quietly beside him.

If he wishes to speak, he will.

[thebreakingwave]

Harry isn't upset at or with Galadriel, but he's worried that she'll somehow be able to sense his own, conflicted and angry emotions. After all, Melkor and Mairon could pick up on that sort of thing, and as far as he's aware, they're all more or less the same race of people.

"So." He briefly looks over at her, then turns back to stare off into the depths of the gardens. "Now what?"

[inafadingcrown]

They are not nearly the same race of people, but he's right to worry nevertheless. She is certainly capable of sensing such things, though, in this case, psychic powers hardly seem necessary. Common sense is enough.

"Now, we take time to heal." She lets out a long slow breath. "And we begin to build from the ashes."

[thebreakingwave]

A sharp bark of a laugh breaks the stillness of the garden. While he only has a little in hand, Harry feels as if has enough ash to build a kingdom.

"A good, solid foundation that." He puts the little blue bag down on the grass between them. "And that is what's left. I cleaned out their rooms."

[inafadingcrown]

The blue bag is given a glance, but little more. It's his face that her eyes focus on.

"I am sorry, Harry."

She doesn't specify for what. Does she really need to? She's sorry about everything- that things happened as they did, that he was drawn into it, the sense of betrayal he must be feeling.

[thebreakingwave]

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he replies and truly, whole-heartedly means it. When Harry went to speak with her about the truce, Galadriel did her part and warned him that Melkor dangerous. "I was vain and foolish and believed that they'd put their war behind them."

The connection to his own pride might be obscure, but it makes logical sense in his own mind.

[inafadingcrown]

"I am sorry to see you suffer," she answers simply. It was not regret of her own actions that she spoke of but something far more basic- regret that she was right, perhaps.

"Do not think of yourself so harshly. You believed, as I do, in the possibility of redemption."

[thebreakingwave]

Harry's back stiffens and there's a poorly hidden flash of anger that burns bright and hot, but he stifles it just as quickly as it comes upon him. He doesn't yell anymore; it didn't do him good when he was young and it doesn't help him now.

Merlin, how he loathes this. In Britain, he was either a faultless savior or Undesirable No. 1, but on the Tranquility, he's a witless child, and the only people who acted like he was a real adult, with actual insight and opinions, did it just to get inside his head. No, it's not just that he was betrayed by friends, but that his actions aren't even worth thinking about or forgiving because he was too damnably stupid, too much a prideful child to even bother with forgiving.

He doesn't trust himself to speak.

[thebreakingwave]

Reasoning that he might as well show up to work until Carolyn throws him out for his part on the whole mess or Han throws him out an airlock just for existing, Harry returns to his usual set of flight crew duties. He cleans, he moves boxes, he tries to magically recreate or fabricate unbroken bits and bobs as needed. If he ever returns to Earth, he's pretty sure to have cornered the market on magically formed gaskets, wires, and LED lights.

For the moment, he's left aside any magical assistance and is sitting at a bench working on a particularly tricky bit of wiring when Jack walks in. He's been so sure that the other man was dead that he lets out a little noise of surprise, carelessly putting his work aside and rushing over to check on him. "Jack!"

[51stcentury]

Jack needs to go back to work. That's what they always did before, Ianto and he, they never really had any time to process the horrors in their lives, they just carried on. He isn't sure he welcomes having too much time to reflect and think about what happened to him or Ianto either. He needs to keep his mind preoccupied, his hands busy, focused on something other than the fact that he can now add 'eaten alive' to the long and ever-growing list of horrific experiences he has suffered through and died from.

He isn't expecting to have quite so warm a welcome upon arriving in the shuttle bay, however, and so he looks up to see Harry eagerly bustling towards him. He can't remember where or when he might have seen the other in the cleaning up of the whole mess. To be honest, he'd been a bit preoccupied at the time. He's willing to bet, though, if Ianto's fears are anything to go by, that Harry probably saw a lot more of him than he did of Harry.

"Hey, kid," he says, greeting with a slightly subdued smile (for Jack, at least), as he tests the waters. "Back to the grind, yeah?" He would have said 'No rest for the wicked', but something tells him that saying wouldn't have gone over nearly as well.

[thebreakingwave]

Harry doesn't immediate move to hug Jack, but the thought is there and instead of a full embrace he lays a hand on the other man's elbow. There's a flicker of tightness around his eyes as if raising his arm pains him somehow, but it's gone quickly. Like a cat, he's grown skilled at hiding his injuries.

"One day I'll trade my tea-towel for trousers, but not today." He's fairly good at keeping odd, wizarding expressions out of his daily speech, but the occasional phrase slips in when he's not really paying attention. "I'm glad to see you up and about."

[51stcentury]

Jack catches that tightness - he was a soldier, and a conman, and he has training to recognize little gives like that. But for now, he'll file it away and let Harry rest the hand on his elbow. He appreciates the sentiment behind it, and honestly, if he'd gone in for a hug, he certainly wouldn't have turned that away either.

The phrase throws him off. Tea-towel for trousers? It's enough to set him off balance for the next comment. "Up and about?" he asks. Why wouldn't he be up and about? He's fine. Good as new. Other than the nightmares. It's Ianto that he's more worried for. His anxieties haunt him much more during the waking hours than Jack's have a habit of doing, after all.

[thebreakingwave]

Harry's recollection of leaving Arima is a bit disjointed and for the time being, he's shelved most of those memories to be worked through at a later date. He knows he'll have to examine his actions and what he recalls of them, but for now, it can wait.

"Yes, and it's good to see. I've, well, I tend to throw myself into work after things like that." Which implies it's happened before and he's going through the motions that served him in the past. "And, Ianto? He's ...I didn't catch everything that happened, but you found each other?"

[51stcentury]

Jack nods in response to the question. "Yeah, we found each other. Got each other out safe," he says, vaguely. If Harry doesn't know how much he recalls about being there, Jack isn't about to trigger a memory. The less people that remember him stone cold dead with his insides on the outside, the better.

Jack takes in a breath and lets it out. "Ianto's handling things as best he can, I think. From what I've gotten from him, you guys have been through a lot. He's got a pretty similar view regarding how soon he needed to go back to work, that's for sure," he says, with the quirk of a smile.

[thebreakingwave]

"If there's anything I can do for you, for either of you, just let me know?" There's an odd expression that rapidly comes and goes, leaving Harry to shake off a memory. He's made that offer before and it didn't turn out well, but he's not about to change that part of himself.

"And I'm well enough," he says with something like a casual shrug. "I didn't get battered around too badly. Only a couple of scratches here and there that'll be gone soon enough. My people, unless it's very bad or done by magic, it heals cleanly."

[51stcentury]

Jack nods. "Good to hear," he says quietly. He knows that there were others who weren't quite so lucky, as far as this latest ordeal was concerned. As far as Harry's offer? Well. He and Ianto aren't really the sorts to ask for help. But he'll keep the offer in mind, regardless. Harry's a good kid, even if he did get mixed up with the wrong sort.

"I should be thanking you, anyway. For your handiwork, with the ring. Probably didn't say as much as I should have in the moment," he says, directing the conversation to lighter subjects. "It turned out well, though. He certainly liked it, and that's what counts in the end, yeah?"