Lost in the Dark [Rowena/Max]

[Fate]

To the few that could see it, 67 Victoria Road was comparable to a ghost. In the pale morning light, the white brick shone, only making the darkness visible inside more prominent. The windows were shattered, glass littering the floor, even the pavement several meters away. Several ripped pages lay in the small front garden, dampened by the night's rain. The front door hung limply from it's remaining hinge, and for those who didn't know better, the place would be considered long abandoned. Of course, only a very select few could see the house at all due to the strong protection it's owner had put upon in in an effort to stay safe. But with such secrecy ensuring it remain unseen and unheard, no alarm had been raised at the destruction that had befallen it the day before.

Inside, the damage only worsened. The hallway was littered with books, the shelves lining the wall broken and empty. There were several dark stains, the rusty brown of dried blood, in the cream carpet and the wall cracked in several places. To the right, just past the arched entry to the living room was a large dint, a few meters up, the result of something large being thrown against the wall in force.

The living room was more of the same horror. The rain had gotten inside during the night, soaking through the chair placed in the bay window. Books lay on the floor, scattered, damaged. More blood. And perhaps most upsetting of all, the still body of a large grey striped cat, stiff with death a few days old at least. But most of all, was the silence. The wind was still, heavy, oppressing. There was a chill in the air, a sort of electricity, remnants of power. But no living thing moved.

Until, from the kitchen, the area where the air is thickest with static, there was the quiet questioning meow of a cat.

[Rowena Jones]

Time passed as it always did and yet Rowena did not move. It could have been seconds, it could have been days, it could have been months or even years and yet she couldn’t find it within herself to care. There was nothing for her in this life anymore. In a matter of months she had been reduced to a mere shadow. What was the point in living when all had been taken from her?

She felt empty, drained, hollow. She stared without seeing but refused to close her eyes. Every time she did she saw it again. The moment it all ended. The light in those green eyes fading. Eyes that had been full of love and support, now tainted red from blood. Lifeless. She wanted to die.

There was a buzzing in the air around her. It felt warm, enveloping her like a soft blanket. Rowena hummed along with it until her throat protested. How long had it been since she had eaten? Since she’d had a drink? Then she decided it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now. She settled into the comfort of the air and stared.

Again time passed. Then something touched her and Rowena whimpered. The air pulsed and there was a pained yowl and the noise of small feet running from her.

The witch was dimly aware that it had been a ginger cat, dimly remembered that it was hers, that she should feed it, but her body was broken and her mind quickly moved on. She was covered in blood. She’d killed someone she thought dimly, remembering the knife in her hand, stabbing through Rosalie’s flesh, the warm stickiness of the blood spilling from the wound to puddle around them, the coppery tang filling the air. Had she killed Michael too? She should look. But she didn’t want to move. Moving hurt so much. So she didn’t. She continued to stare at the broken pieces of her wand that lay just out of reach.

Rowena wondered how long it would take her to die.

[Max Kameren]

The route home after Max’s frigid last evening in Siberia went by in a flash. The moment the hour struck opening the Ministry’s Portkey Office Max was there, flicking the switch of his portkey and letting the sickening spinning sensation take him home. The moment his feet were steadily on solid ground again he dropped the portkey and spun on his heel for Rowena’s home, forgetting to mute the sound with his panic and appearing on her doorstep with a loud CRACK.

She hadn’t answered. Throughout the night he’d texted and called Rowena but received no response. He’d texted Elle, who hadn’t seen her since Max left. Mary or Milton hadn’t heard from her either, and no one could get to her because of the bloody curse they’d put on her house. What had been intended to protect her had instead encased her, leaving Rowena without help and Max without a way to get to her. He should never have left.

But now that he was back, he was afraid to move further. He hadn’t even gone inside yet and the sight of her home filled him with dread; the door was barely hanging from a single hinge, the windows all blown out with shards of glass littering the small front lawn and sidewalk. With a shaky sigh Max reached for a happy memory in his mind: their first night together, when he’d cooked for her. Trading questions and answers, laughing together, eventually falling asleep in each other’s arms. It had been simple and sweet, the kind of happiness that made life a blessing. His cat patronus leapt from his aura and darted off into the sky, tracking down Alex Kameren and telling him to prepare the aurors and apparate to the safe point near Rowena’s house, where Max would meet them upon their arrival.

When that was taken care of he’d run out of reasons not to enter and find what he feared he would find. He stood rigid on the front step, his fingers hesitating centimeters from the lopsided door. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath and preparing himself as he pushed the door open.

The first thing he noticed was blood. Blood everywhere: along the floor, on the walls. As he progressed into the living room his green eyes paused on the pitiful grey lump that had been Spice. A pit formed in his stomach and he tasted bile in his throat but he pressed onward, following the path of destruction into the kitchen.

There the frantic meow of Rowena’s other cat, Pumpkin, met him. Max started at the sudden presence of something from their regular life presenting itself and before he could help it a sob escaped him. This was where his love lived, where they had been happy. Now it was gone. Flashes of his childhood home in ruins went through his head as he picked up the cat and placed her on the counter. He turned to the fridge and blindly pulled out the first thing he found that a cat could eat – lunch meat - and dropped it for her to devour. He paused as he felt a stirring in the back of his mind and a shock went through him.

Rowena had made her presence known. With renewed adrenaline Max nearly leapt into the storage space off of the kitchen, crumbling to his knees at the sight he took in when he entered. She was here, alright. What little of his love they’d left behind.

“R…Ro?” Max inched closer, his quivering fingers reaching out to touch Rowena and stopping just short. No movement. No acknowledgement. She lay on her side, curled with her back away from him, her skin a watercolor patchwork of bruises that raised a lump in Max’s throat. There was a curve to the shape of her leg that made Max feel sick, and a hitch to her breathing that he could practically feel. All painful, surely, but nothing life-threatening. Again, they aimed to torture Rowena Covington but never kill her. To break her, not destroy her. Why?

Unconsciously Max wiped away tear tracts with the backs of his hands, already glowing with healing energy in preparation. “I’m sorry, I should never have left.” He said under his breath as he reached out to gently turn her onto her back. His touch dissipating manually-applied bruises as he moved. A shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding escaped when he met her dull amber eyes, staring forward at him blankly. This was his fault; he should have been here. He could have helped her. He broke their gaze to continue healing her, trying to dull the pain in her aura with his own as he mended anything he could on his own. Trying to keep busy, or risk letting his despair overcome him. “I’m sorry, Ro, I’m so sorry.”

[Rowena Jones]

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

Rowena sang to herself. She couldn't say the words out loud, her mouth was too dry, her throat too hoarse from screaming, but the familiar nursery rhyme helped pass the time as it repeated over and over in her mind. Fall. Fall. Fall.

Suddenly she realised she wasn't on her side, that she couldn't see her wand. There was someone in the room with her. The air hummed and buzzed as Rowena stirred, her body protesting angrily as she moved. When her gaze fell upon him, her eyes only deadened further. Would there be no end to this torture? Her heart broke all over again as she looked upon the vision of her dead boyfriend. So she hadn't killed Michael then. That explained why she couldn't see Rosie's body anywhere. He must have cleaned it up. But now he was back. And this was the worst thing he could do. Present her with the thing she'd been hoping for since the nightmare began. Put her back together to break her further. There was no point. There was nothing left to break. 

“Please…” her voice cracked. “I can’t do this anymore. Leave me alone. You win. Michael. Please…” Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks but she had cried too much already and she could not seem to be able to do even that anymore. “Kill me. I want to be with him." Maybe in death she could find the peace that life had not given her.

You’ll beg me to kill you in the end… echoed in her broken mind. Rosalie had been right. What a fool she’d been. To think she could escape this. There was no winning anymore. Not without Max. And still he was there and it was agony. To believe him so close and know that he was no more.

[Max Kameren]

Slowly and deliberately Max went over his girlfriend’s injuries and corrected everything he could. He had to fix this, he had to make her better. He’d left her and this had happened. He knew he shouldn’t have left her, he knew they were still watching Michael had shown him as much, and he’d left anyway. This was his fault. He should have been here.

“Please…” her voice cracked and Max took a shaky breath to keep composure as he healed her many bruises, trying to ignore the chill of her disbelieving aura. The pulse of her loss and despair. “I can’t do this anymore. Leave me alone. You win. Michael. Please…”

The feeling of her aura froze him and his hands retreated, leaving the remaining bruises for now. Of course it was Michael, he knew it was Michael. Had warned her, pleaded with her to get rid of him. He should have done more, should have taken the matter into his own hands. Varvara was right, he wasn’t bold enough with his abilities for them to be any help; he would sit by and this would happen again and again.

No, keep working. Push through panic into action. Shaky fingers skimmed her skin for the first time warily, searching for permission as his fingers encircled her forearm. There was a sickly bend to her wrist that Max figured he could reset and heal, if she would let him. “Ro, it’s me. Michael’s gone. I’m going to heal your wrist, but I have to set it first. I need you to hold still – “

“Kill me. I want to be with him."

His breathing hitched and he shied away again, not sure how to reply. What had they done to her? He desperately needed to know. His mind flashed to Varvara once again, the warm tendrils of her aura searching through his history. He could find out what they did, if he wanted to… but Rowena had always hated his intrusions. He hesitated, relenting and hoping instead she would believe him.

“I’m not dead, Ro. I’m right here. Please. Here,” A memory suddenly flashed to the forefront of Max’s mind and he instinctively reached for his pocket, where he pulled out the chocolate she’d given him days earlier, though it felt like years now. He placed the chocolates in her hand, encasing her hand in his. He reached out to her with his aura, meeting her eyes in plea. Michael couldn’t replicate his soul, couldn’t recreate his powers completely. If his aura was here with her he couldn’t be dead. She had to believe him. “Please.”

[Rowena Jones]

“I’m not dead, Ro. I’m right here."

"Dead. Dead. I saw you die. This isn't real." Rowena chanted, eyes darting everywhere but at the vision she did not want to see. None of this felt real. She didn't feel in control. What did she have to do to make this torture end? She would take a hundred Crucio's over this torment.

She felt a touch and shied backwards, whimpering loudly, even as her eyes flew to the source. The chocolate. The air around them charged as she stared at the sweets placed in her hand. She could remember so vividly that moment. She'd been worried about him, had wanted him to have something. As if chocolate was any help against the likes of Warghollow. Useless. Stupid. And now he was dead. And she wanted to be.

But Michael knew all that. He'd shown her this moment before. Max asking her to stay safe. Telling her he needed her. Well she needed him too. But not like this. No more. How dare Michael use this moment. One of the few that was hers. Rowena's anger and despair reached boiling point and she screeched her rage at this latest manipulation of her life. "No more!"

The air pulsed and once again her Magic, unbound by her fragile mental state, ravaged the room. The glass that littered the floor rose into the air and then flew outwards again, crashing against the walls. And through it all, Rowena screamed, her eyes rolling up into her head as the power washed through her.

And like the day before, when it was over, she stared blankly ahead, rocking backwards and forwards. But this time she spoke. And when she did, it barely sounded like her at all. "Dark...alone...dead...blame...broken..." she whispered, before glancing sharply at the man still present in the room. "Still here then? He's getting stronger I suppose. I killed her though. Murderess. That's me." Her voice took on a desperate tone as she glanced at her hands, holding them up for him to see. "See. My hands are forever stained red now. I'm glad you kept the green though. Red did not suit you." She peered at his face. "Are you here to show me the way? Everything's so dark you know. I'm not sure where to go. Up or down? Down or up? Which way is up? So many twists and turns. So much shadow." she laughed humourlessly before the sound choked off as she winced in pain, her dry throat protesting the action.

[Max Kameren]

His girlfriend directed her attention to the chocolates he placed in her hands and Max flinched with the sparks that seemed to ignite in thin air; Max could feel the air fluctuate with Rowena’s aura, the atmosphere around them electric with her trauma. It broke his heart; Max could fix the physical wounds they’d applied to her, but without her trust Max wasn’t sure what approach to take. If they’d been conjuring illustions of him how could he let her know he was real? Instead he reached out with his aura: if Varvara was correct, his aura was his soul. It couldn’t be duplicated. If his aura was with her he was here, he was alive. Warily he took his hands off of her, watching with concern as her aura twisted into anger. “Ro, it’s me. I’m not Michael. I’m here to help you.”

"No more!"

Max was able to lift a shield in a split second before the room descended into chaos. Shards of glass lifted and pushed outward in a maelstrom emanating from Rowena, expressing her anguish in a powerful blast. His shield barely held, pushing him back against the wall with the force of her power. He’d never seen this kind of outburst from Rowena; was this what they’d intended? Was this the power that the Dark Lady sought to sap from his girlfriend before the earthquake? Max held his shield until the activity stopped, his ears ringing with the miserable screams of his tortured love.

When it finally passed Max took down his shield, his hands pulsing with healing spells as he inched closer again. Nothing would prevent him helping her, even as she fought. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have left. He would heal the wounds he wasn’t here to protect her from.

Suddenly a silvery light appeared in his peripheral and his head turned to see the German Shepherd patronus of his uncle standing in the doorway. Shit, he hadn’t thought about how Alex would get in when he was here with Rowena. She needed to get to Hospital, but the Aurors needed access to her home. His eyes darted back to his girlfriend, biting his lip in worry as he pushed himself up to his full height and in a quick motion turned on his heel.

.. .. .. ..

“67 Victoria Road, down the way a block on the left. Can’t miss it.” Max appeared out of nowhere behind Alex and the aurors he’d summoned, wincing with the loud pop! of his arrival. He’d been trying to learn to focus on making his apparition silent; he knew Alex expected it of him. He expected more of him than Max had become; all this work, and he’d failed. They would turn down that street to find a destroyed home with a broken woman inside.

His fault. He’d failed.

.. .. .. ..

"Still here then? He's getting stronger I suppose. I killed her though. Murderess. That's me…"

Max reappeared in the storage room and sighed in relief to find she hadn’t noticed his momentary absence. He approached slowly again, kneeling and keeping quiet, approaching her like a frightened and wounded animal. He measured her aura for the sign of another possible outburst, or a point her could pivot on to get her to let him touch her. Whatever he could do to earn her trust.

"See. My hands are forever stained red now. I'm glad you kept the green though. Red did not suit you." Silent emerald eyes watched her patiently as she spoke in words and phrases that made no sense to him. There was no stain on her hands. "Are you here to show me the way? Everything's so dark you know. I'm not sure where to go.”

Max’s brow furrowed as the question brought forward a memory: What did I tell you, when met with adversity? His original childhood home. A hand outstretched. Onward, into the adventure that death would one day bring them. But not then, and not today. But to get Rowena to trust him, he could pretend.

“Up or down? Down or up? Which way is up? So many twists and turns. So much shadow."

She laughed and Max stared at her silently, letting down his guards to let his love for her shine through. He pushed himself to his feet and offered her a hand up. “Not up or down, forward. Where we can be together.” It wasn’t a lie, technically not a trick. Where he would take her they could be together, she could be healed. Outside the remnants of her shattered home, maybe she could see through the darkness and find him again. “Come. No one will hurt you again.”

[Rowena Jones]

Rowena blinked as she felt... love? She glanced past her blood stained hands and saw pale skin, unblemished and unhurt. Michael wouldn't do that... he had laughed as he watched Rosalie add more bruises onto old. Oh. That was why he hadn't left. It wasn't Michael after all. This was her. She couldn't stand to be alone any more. She only wanted him. To be with him. She didn't need them to torture her anymore. She could do it herself.

His hand reached out for her and she looked at it warily. She could remember everything about him, had spent hours peeking over the edge of her book while he was engrossed in his to simply stare at him in wonder. In amazement over how she had ended up with him. Having him there, knowing he would never truly be there again, was agony... but she could not bring herself to try and banish him again. Even with the pain in her heart at seeing him, Rowena relaxed into the memory of his love. She felt the tremors that racked her body, aftershocks of too many Cruciatus Curses, lessen. Even in death, Max was her safe space, her harbour in the storm.

“Not up or down, forward. Where we can be together.”

"Forward?" Her head tilted, amber eyes wide and haunted, face gaunt and pale. "Forward. They wait. Always. Watching. Eyes in the Shadow. I can't." She muttered, fidgeting, her fingers pulling at her hair in sudden anxiety. Her leg. She couldn't move it.

“Come. No one will hurt you again.”

It wasn't true of course. They would never leave her alone. She'd never been alone. She'd belonged to them all along. But it would be nice to pretend. Just for a little while. She stretched forward, biting into her lip as the pain in her leg echoed through her body, to place her hand in his and a sob escaped her at how real it all felt. Then Warghollow's face flashed again in her mind, his maddened gaze staring right into her and she shuddered. "Hunger. Rage. He'll never stop. You. Then them. I'm so sorry." Rowena's grip tightened as she became desperate. "It's my fault. Sorry. Shouldn't have loved you. Wasn't supposed to happen. Not right. So sorry."

Her face crumpled in anguish. "You were everything. Loved you. Love you. My Max. Swallowed by Shadow. Gone now. But I will be with you soon. I'll make them."

[Max Kameren]

“Come. No one will hurt you again.” Max reached out a hand for her to take, meeting her frazzled amber eyes with an even sorrow. Those bright, disbelieving eyes. How could he convince her he was flesh and blood, just like her? She wasn’t in a state to tell him, and going through her mind would be risking another outburst. He started to form a plan in his head: where to take her, whom to trust. Max couldn’t heal her by himself. They may watch and wait in the shadows, but he wouldn’t be letting them out of his sight again.

Then Rowena took his hand and it was pain. Blinding pain that made his fingers shake as they closed around her hand. Below the tremors of tortured anguish was hollowness, the sunken moan of loss echoing down deep into her soul. She’d lost everything, from her perspective: Max was still here. He would wait patiently at her side until she could see him as he was again.

"Hunger. Rage. He'll never stop. You. Then them. I'm so sorry." Rowena's grip tightened as she became desperate. Max pulled her to her feet, lending her his shoulder for support to keep her off her twisted leg. "It's my fault. Sorry. Shouldn't have loved you. Wasn't supposed to happen. Not right. So sorry."

“Never apologize for that.” He replied with a shuddering sigh. Even now, his only regret was leaving her behind. He was used to danger, his family had always spent too long looking over their shoulder. The way he felt about Rowena Covington was worth everything. She was everything to him.

"You were everything. Loved you. Love you. My Max. Swallowed by Shadow. Gone now. But I will be with you soon. I'll make them."

Tears glazed over his eyes with her anguish and he gently pulled her off her bad leg but he wiped them away, instead concentrating on her injuries and trying to find what he could mend himself. He desperately wanted to comfort her, hold her and sleep next to her and speak with her and breathe in her scent like they’d been a week ago. He wanted to look in her eyes and see the woman he’d fallen in love with. Right now that wasn’t a possibility.

Right now he needed to maintain so she could heal. “I need to move us somewhere safe, Ro. Can you trust me?” He wrapped an arm around her carefully and twisted on his heel, disappearing from the storage room of her home and reappearing at the same time in a dark room at St. Mungo’s.

With a wave of his hand Max brought the lights up to reveal a treatment room in the Long Term Spell Damage ward. Not just any room; this room held significance to Max. The ceilings were tall and the walls were now a calming cream, but at one point they’d been black chalkboard. The room sat largely overlooked in the far corner of the Spell Damage ward, perfect for privacy. Max had spent many sleepless nights in this room throughout his life: this had been Curse Kameren’s room, from his recovery during the war. Many of the wards still stood. Rowena would be safe.

“There,” He nodded his head in the direction of the bed and guided her there, helping her up onto the clean white sheets and kneeling at her eye level as he reached out into the map of auras he felt in the hospital at this early hour.

Immediately he found who he was looking for: Mary, the interim Head of Spell Damage in Rowena’s absence. Mary, it’s Max. Room 464 I need your help, it’s Rowena. Don’t bring anyone else. There was an initial shock and fear at the sound of Max’s voice in her head, but he let out a breath in relief as he felt her move to join them.

“Hold on, Ro. Mary’s coming and she’s going to help me heal you.” He met her eyes in reassurance as his cat patronus appeared once more to send the same message to Elle Callahan at the Kameren Estate.

[Rowena Jones]

“I need to move us somewhere safe, Ro. Can you trust me?”

Rowena hummed, clinging to this last figment of her imagination. Her whole world felt fuzzy, there was a fog between her mind and her body, confusing her. But for once her imagination didn't fail her and she could see and feel and smell Max in all his warmth and comfort. He was speaking but all she could concentrate on was the warmth of his skin. She'd been cold for what had felt like so long. How long had it been? She was perplexed over Michael's absence. "Cat. Mouse. The chase. All just pawns in the greater game. Fodder," she muttered to herself, clinging tighter to her lost love. She'd be fodder if it meant she could be with him again. If it meant death and release. Michael would be back soon. Then she'd make him give her that final freedom. Her only regret now was that she hadn't thought of it sooner. How much time had she lost with Max already? So much pain already when she could have been with her love.

The air sent shivers down her spine as the world twisted and she whimpered, unsure at what was happening. She squeezed her eyes shut, ton between pulling away and burrowing further. But it was over before she could decide and then she was confronted by new surroundings. Her head shook in denial. Where was she? The walls were all light, so different from the darkness of her room. Real Max was in the shadow. She should not be here. Why was she here? How? The air charged around her again in her panic and as she felt its presence a word came to her. Magic. 

Not real Max stood patiently and Rowena followed him quietly as he led her to a bed. Her head spun, her eyes wide, her grip tight as she tried to process all the newness in this room. There was a familiarity to the place, but there had to be. This was all in her head. She would only use that which she knew. He was the proof of that. The sterile whiteness and that smell... only one place it could be. Mungos. 

“Hold on, Ro. Mary’s coming and she’s going to help me heal you.”

Mary. Rowena grinned crookedly. "Mary Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow..." she sang hoarsely. She trailed off before looking at him seriously. "You can't heal me. Can fix the broken body, but what's inside is lost. Twisting. Turning. So many lies. Half my soul is gone with you. The other half will come. Patience love."

There was the sound of footsteps and Rowena hummed more loudly to herself, watching the door with wide eyes. 

"Oh," Mary said as she stepped into the room and took in the scene. "Oh no." The elderly Witch threw a critical eye over the other witch who was now twitching and shuddering as panic overtook her as she realised she was really here. Mary was alive. Rowena could feel it. Somehow she'd gotten to Mungos. That crackling air. Her magic. She'd gotten to Mungos.

"Mary. Mary. Mary." Rowena chanted, pulling away from not real Max to throw herself at the other woman. "I lost him. Gone. Gone. Gone. Please help me. It's too much. Can't bear it."

Mary held the broken witch to her as she looked over Rowena's head at Max. "Go. I'll look after her." Merlin only knew what had happened, but Mary had seen enough broken witches and wizards over the course of two wars to be able to deal with this for now. "I'm sure there's much else to do. She's safe now."

[Alecsander]

"Be ready, but this is a muggle neighborhood so keep your wands hidden." Alex looked over the small group he'd gathered, Max's patronus hadn't said more than that he needed help at Rowena's. Alex emitted a low growl of frustration. He'd been so preoccupied, so sure he was going to catch Warghollow... He'd only slept in brief snatches as they tightened the noose... But he'd gotten away. Somehow he'd slipled through and escaped.

"67 Victoria Road, down the way a block on the left. Can’t miss it.” Max appeared out of nowhere behind Alex.

"Lets go," Alex ordered, and the phalanx of wizards trotted down the street in the early morning light. Max was right. They couldn't miss it.