The Cavalry Pt. 2 [Sabrina/Rowena]

[Sabrina Wells]

It was safe to say the morning had not quite gone to plan. Though Jackson was finally helpful in providing information for Sabrina to follow her suspicions about Max Kameren, the path they led her to was surprisingly short. Eden Fletcher was obviously still too deeply affected by her best friends’ loss that she was incoherent when Sabrina tried to speak with her. Eventually Sabrina gave up on the interaction, leaving her with a sobering potion and a note with contact information and resolving to come back another time. Instead she shifted her focus to her other lead, the only other person Jackson could think of who Max interacted with socially before his disappearance.

However, it seemed she wasn’t home. Sabrina knocked assertively on the pristine white townhome for a half-hour to no avail, peeking in windows around the building until she nearly gave the poor muggle housekeeper a heart attack. In the process of chasing Sabrina off the property the housekeeper had been most helpful in (loudly) informing her that there was no Rowena Covington here for some time, now please bugger off and don’t come knocking again. With her last hope of answers snuffed out Sabrina crossed the way into Hyde Park, fuming as she tried to dream up a Plan B.

But then, it was like the Heavens opened wide and graced the journalist with a gift for her dedication to the cause: atop a damp knoll off a curve in the path sat a dark-haired woman, shoulders slumped as she stared out in the direction facing away from Sabrina. Incredulously Sabrina squinted, trying to match the shape of the woman to the picture in her head; when Jackson had mentioned Max Kameren’s former flame Sabrina had recognized the name and face from the papers. She followed the Shadowloved story closely and knew how trying her last year had been. It seemed like the kind of trauma that would be carried heavily on the shoulder of a stormy-looking person like the woman sitting on Sabrina’s horizon. There was only one way to know for sure.

“Rowena Covington?” Hesitantly Sabrina stepped off the path and into her subject’s peripheral, recognition dawning on her when she got a better view of her face. “My name’s Sabrina Wells, Jackson gave me your information. Do you have time to chat?”

[Rowena Jones]

How long had it been now? Six months? Seven? It felt like it was an age and yet no time at all. Less than a year since the world had supposed to end. She hadn’t planned for this, to be alive, here and now… and if she had she certainly wouldn’t have pictured the hellish reality she was faced with. Not for the first time, Rowena wished her plan had worked the way it had meant to.

She’d floated above the battlefield, golden and glowing with magic, the energy flowing from within her to her sister and the towering, terrifying structure of the Gate. She’d felt like a god, dizzy with the mix of Light and Dark that had combined to create such power. In reality she’d been a bomb and as the pressure had increased, as she felt the end nearing, she’d looked for Max. Her sister’s shriek of denial as she realised what Rowena was doing, as she too felt the agonizing burn of too much power was the last thing she heard, but Max was the last thing she saw before she let the world turn to fire and embraced her death.

But instead of dying, she’d been comatose for several months and when she’d awoken, it had been to Eoin’s concerned gaze. Max hadn’t been there but with how they’d left things Rowena had supposed she couldn’t really expect him to be waiting by her bedside. She’d hurt him, pushed him away as far as she could for so many months. But then there had been no word of him or from him for the next few days despite her asking about him. Did she really mean so little to him now? And why did Eoin and Milton always change the topic when she brought him up?

That he was dead hadn’t even crossed her mind because she’d know. They might not have been together anymore, but what they’d shared, it had left a mark upon her soul. They were tied together in a way that couldn’t be explained and she’d know if he had died… at least that’s what she told herself when she finally learnt what had happened after the battle.

But now, all this time later, the doubts were finally winning. How could they not when everyone she relied on and trusted was telling her to accept his death so that she could live again?

“He’s dead,” Rowena spoke the words out loud. They tasted like ash and despair and darkness. “Max is gone,” she whispered, feeling her heart shudder at the thought. He’d sat here what now felt like a lifetime ago. She could remember it exactly, the feel of his lips on hers and their misplaced hope that they would actually make it out of the Darkness together.

“Rowena Covington?” Her dark thoughts were interrupted as a woman she didn’t recognize entered her view. “My name’s Sabrina Wells, Jackson gave me your information. Do you have time to chat?”

Rowena’s eyes were dull as she glanced at the other woman. She shrugged. “Time is all I have,” she answered as she turned back to staring at the spot Max had once occupied. “I doubt I’ll be able to provide much good conversation though. Not much point in it is there? Words can’t change anything… no matter how many promises you make. Everything still ends up broken and useless. Especially me. Did you know I can barely cast a Stupefy anymore? Useless. He should be here, not me. He was much more…” her voice trailed off as she realised she was talking to a stranger.

“Sorry, you said Jackson sent you?”

[Sabrina Wells]

“Rowena Covington?” Her dark thoughts were interrupted as a woman she didn’t recognize entered her view. “My name’s Sabrina Wells, Jackson gave me your information. Do you have time to chat?”

The woman turned to her and a slight frown creased Sabrina’s lips. Rowena was a traffic-stopping beauty who gave a “Time is all I have,” she answered as she turned back to staring at the spot Max had once occupied. “I doubt I’ll be able to provide much good conversation though […] He should be here, not me. He was much more…”

She trailed off and Sabrina sat silently, her thin eyebrows disappearing into her unruly black hair as she bore witness to Rowena’s tragedy. One thing Sabrina had learned today: this man had to be a fantastic lay for the two women she’d met today to be so completely destroyed over him seven months later. Did he grant wishes? Did he blow solid-gold Galleons out of his nose? Even Sabrina knew those were inside thoughts and kept her mouth closed, pulling her small notepad and a pencil out of the front pocket of her bag for notes.

“Sorry, you said Jackson sent you?”

Sent was a strong word. More accurately Sabrina wrung their names out of her cousin by the power of sheer irritation. “Yes, sorry to bother you. I work for the Daily Prophet – in the efforts of full disclosure, I’m not on assignment or anything – and I wanted to ask you some questions about Max Kameren.”

Sabrina paused to gauge a reaction from Rowena for her chosen topic; when Sabrina decided she wasn’t about to be hexed, she continued. “Just general things. Even asking Jack there was a separation; He was friendly but not personal. In the Prophet he was the hostage from the Demon Wars, then he was Curse Kameren’s kid. He was never a man, a person.” She shrugged. “What was he like? What was your relationship like, what did he think about?” Sabrina’s pencil twitched in her fingers when she got to the question she really wanted answered: “What about other people in his life he was close to, like Milton Bonham? What was their relationship like?”

[Rowena Jones]

“Yes, sorry to bother you. I work for the Daily Prophet – in the efforts of full disclosure, I’m not on assignment or anything – and I wanted to ask you some questions about Max Kameren.”

Max. She wanted to talk about Max. Rowena would have laughed at the irony of the situation if it didn’t hurt so much. She spent the whole morning working herself up to an acceptance of his death in an effort to leave the past behind only for this woman to appear and drag it all up again.

Nor was this Sabrina the first to want to interview her. Rowena was tempted to send the journalist on her way like she’d done with the others. Her life, and the life of those she cared for were not to be dissected for the entertainment of others. But Sabrina had said she wasn’t on assignment… so why was she interested in Max? He was dead. Despite all her intentions of moving on, curiosity sparked within her. She owed it to him to make sure this woman didn’t have any nefarious intentions, Rowena told herself as she returned her gaze to the dark haired witch beside her.

“What kind of questions?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just general things. Even asking Jack there was a separation; He was friendly but not personal. In the Prophet he was the hostage from the Demon Wars, then he was Curse Kameren’s kid. He was never a man, a person. What was he like? What was your relationship like, what did he think about?”

Well that was a very generic broad line of questioning and Rowena couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped her. Yes Max had been secretive and in his own way, distant… but his presence in her life had never felt anything but personal. From the very beginning of their acquaintance, he had gotten under her skin in a way no one else had ever managed to do.

It had started with a bitter rivalry that had only blossomed throughout their school years and followed them into their chosen workplace. They had been fiercely passionate in their insults and debates, and no matter how hard they tried to avoid the other, the competition never ended. And then suddenly that passion had shifted in a way that still bewildered her. What had previously infuriated her suddenly endeared him to her. His quick wit and sharp tongue and talent. His desire to keep those he loved safe. In so many ways they were similar and yet the differences between them only served to push the other to improve, to experiment. Their relationship had been a whirlwind. It had been difficult. Explosive. Wonderful. Exhilarating. And then it had been over.

Rowena didn’t realize she’d been speaking out loud until she had to pause for breath and she inwardly scowled. She hadn’t meant to share anything until she knew why Sabrina wanted the information and that information had been more personal than she’d want to share with anyone, let alone a total stranger. But she couldn’t deny it felt good to talk. Get a grip, she scolded herself. Find out what she really wants before sharing your life history.

“What about other people in his life he was close to, like Milton Bonham? What was their relationship like?”

“Milton?” Rowena tilted her head in surprise. The change of direction of the line of questioning had her speaking again before she could help herself. “He was our boss… but him, and Albert too, they were more mentors than superiors. Milton is one of the best people I know, I’d trust him with my life and I daresay Max would have done too.” The witch paused, “Why? Why are you so interested in a dead man? What do his relationships have to do with anything?”

[Sabrina Wells]

Sabrina sensed Rowena’s suspicion at the broadness of her questions but didn’t correct course; it was a tactic she often made good use of as a journalist. Starting broad in her questioning gave her subject more room to mention details Sabrina hadn’t though to pay attention to, making an interview both more informative and more conversational to read. When she interviewed real people (unlike the politicians she generally spoke to at the Wizengamot), more open-ended questions turned the interview into an excavation. Often letting the subject talk at length brought out more genuine material and details than exacting questions did.

And Merlin, had she struck a chord with Rowena Covington. After a period of skepticism the story started to flow from her like a river: their rivalry, their connection, and their loss. It was clear that their relationship hadn’t begun and ended with dating, they’d had a history that expended for years longer. Sabrina’s head tilted as she made a few notes, a shadow of a smile crossing her lips as Rowena described their banter and his protective nature and how they pushed each other. Maybe she was starting to see his impact after all.

Then that faraway look in Rownea’s eyes faded and she came back to earth with a scowl; it appeared Sabrina’s line of questioning had dredged up information she hadn’t intended to disclose. Tiime to change the subject, then: move their conversation somewhere less personal and maybe return to aspects of it later. “What about other people in his life he was close to, like Milton Bonham? What was their relationship like?”

“Milton?” Rowena tilted her head in surprise. The surprise at Sabrina’s line of questioning was expected by Sabrina for more reasons than Jackson’s descripton: at the Prophet she’d found substantial connection between the Bonham and Kameren families. Milton Bonham was listed as an assistant or co-creator on every potion Max Kameren patented and half of Curse Kameren’s. She found event descriptions for lectures Bonham had given on the poison that killed Max’s father. Hell, he was even a pallbearer at Curse Kameren’s funeral; it was abundantly clear they were close. “He was our boss… but him, and Albert too, they were more mentors than superiors. Milton is one of the best people I know, I’d trust him with my life and I daresay Max would have done too.”

That was why it was so strange to see him the night Max went missing. Reading the history Milton had with the family and Rowena’s description of him created a cognitive dissonance between the man in the stories and the one she’d met. He was short and dismissive of the condition of the man he’d watched grow up in the halls of his hospital. She’d sensed a distance in his disposition that she hadn’t encountered anywhere in their history. Had he known?

But Sabrina’s perplexed frown at the description seemed to spark suspicion from her subject and Rowena’s disposition turned again. “Why? Why are you so interested in a dead man? What do his relationships have to do with anything?”

Sabrina finally looked up from her notepad and made confused eye contact with the other witch. The bluntness of her description of Max as a dead man threw her off; there had been warmth before, but it would alternate into the cold bluntness of her statements: that’s gone now. It’s over. He’s dead. It felt like she was reminding herself.

“You think Max Kameren is dead?” For a moment Sabrina let herself slip and the indecisive tone in her question gave away her belief: She wasn’t writing an obituary. Sabrina didn’t believe, no matter how many people told her, that she was chasing a ghost.

[Rowena Jones]

“You think Max Kameren is dead?”

No. Her first immediate thought barely had time to form before she squashed it.

Yes. He is. She needed to accept it, no matter how much her heart didn’t want to. She’d lost so much during the war, family, friends, magic… she’d uncovered lies that ran throughout the course of her life, her very identity had been manipulated, and when she’d last thought Max dead, she’d lost her own sanity.

So on the day she’d finally discovered what had happened on that awful night, she’d vehemently denied it. If he were dead she’d know. Despite all their bickering and disagreements, despite not knowing where they stood with each other half the time, there was something between them that was inexplicable, a bond that tied them together. If he had died, she would feel it.

Rowena had said as much to Milton as he’d sat by her hospital bed. She’d expected him to also believe that Max was alive, to agree with her and help her.

“But you do feel different Rowena,” he’d pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s not because of Max,” she’d argued. It had been two weeks since she’d awoken, just under four months since the night she should have died, but still she was stuck in this hospital bed despite having no obvious injuries. The final battle may not have killed her as she’d originally planned for, and it may not have scarred her… instead it had taken something far more important to her. Her magic. It had left a gaping emptiness inside her. She’d never even noticed it before, that feeling inside her that she’d just always had and now it was gone and she was powerless.

“How would you know?” Her mentor’s question made her pause for breath. He was right, she wouldn’t know. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes.

“He just can’t be gone Milton. Not like that. After everything we went through, somehow we survived… and then for th- that c-cannibal to…” she couldn’t say it, it didn’t bear thinking about. Better he had died on the battlefield than what they said had happened. “I just can’t believe it. I don’t want to.”

“None of us do,” Milton said gently and Rowena blinked back more tears at his tone. How many times had she used it when delivering bad news to patients? “I know it hurts now Rowena, but it will get better if you can accept it. Holding onto ghosts helps no one, and you have to focus on your own recovery now.”

They'd had similar conversations several times since then. Sometimes Albert had joined them. Jackson never talked about it whenever she went to collect her treatment from him, but she could tell he'd accepted it too. All around her, life just moved on.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Rowena replied coming back to the present, bitterness evident in her tone. Then she registered that of the witch beside her.

“But you don’t.” It wasn’t a question. This complete stranger, at least as far as Rowena was aware, didn’t think Max was dead. Why? Why did she question it when everyone else, people who had known and cared for him had been insisting that he was gone? Despite all her best efforts, hope bloomed once more in her and she finally turned to properly study the woman who might have all the answers. Now it was her turn to ask questions.

“Why? What do you know?”

[Sabrina Wells]

“You think Max Kameren is dead?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” It became a game; the two witches dancing around each other’s resolve to not be the first to tell their truth. If one believed him to be alive but the other didn’t, their conversation would end. But if they both came around to the same conclusions… “But you don’t.”

Foiled again by her lacking poker face. Sabrina flipped her notepad closed, sucking her teeth in a grimace she reflected up at Rowena. Sabrina was like the rest of the world: she didn’t know Max Kameren. She’d only seen him in passing and heard of him anecdotally from her cousin. But even looking from the outside in she knew something felt off about his disappearance, and by interviewing people close to him she’d hoped to find evidence to back up her feeling. But so far she’d found nothing but a hardening pit in her stomach that something was going on, she just couldn’t say what.

“Why? What do you know?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. Ugh,” Sabrina ran her hands through her curls, anxious under the other woman’s fiery amber gaze. The conversation was the search for something to know, something to tell her what she was feeling was right. That night didn’t sit well with her, and she couldn’t be the only one.

“I was at the hospital that night. I saw something.” The journalist shook her head, pushing herself up to pace the grassy knoll and try to escape Rowena’s suspicious glare. “At least I think I saw something: I was meeting Jack after the rush of the wounded. He’d been in Kameren’s room but needed to run back to his office – something about numbing potions being off. He was coming right back, so I stayed in the hall outside. Then came this rush of men in Healer’s robes down the hall and I ducked into an empty room so they wouldn’t see me. They rolled him away. He was bleeding.”

Sabrina stopped in her tracks, her dark eyes staring off as if she was reliving the encounter in front of her. “When they passed by Milton was just… standing there. I asked him what happened and he said they were taking him to away to heal him, but something felt weird.”

That was the crack in the armor of Sabrina’s story: everything sounded normal. How could she find a lead buried in an innocuous interaction? How could she expect anyone to believe her if all she had for proof was that Milton’s tone had rubbed her the wrong way? How could she write an article on a nagging feeling in the back of her mind? The entire world was telling her to move on, but living each day trying to deny her own experience was slowly driving her mad. If she let the book close on Max Kameren forever without looking into it, she’d never forgive herself.

“For months, everyone has told me what I saw was nothing but routine, but I can’t let it go. I've been given several perfectly logical explanations, but I can still feel something in my gut.” The resolve in Sabrina’s voice was shaky, as if even in real-time she was still questioning herself. Months of denial still rang in her ears, but she couldn’t look Rowena Covington, someone who so clearly cared about this man, and deny what she thought. “And I trust my gut. So no, I don’t think Kameren’s dead.”

She shrugged. "I just don't know where to look for him."

[Rowena Jones]

“Nothing. I don’t know. Ugh,”

Rowena glared at the journalist. It was a good thing that she’d squashed that glimmer of hope if the other woman had nothing. What a waste of time! And what an awful horrible thing to do! Search her out, insinuate that there might be reason to think Max alive and then… nothing?! Rowena’s anger flared.

“I was at the hospital that night. I saw something.”

Oh. A witness? Well that wasn’t nothing. Rowena’s glare lessened only slightly as she waited for Sabrina to continue. Was this the lead she’d been looking for all along? Had she been right to doubt his death these past months?

“At least I think I saw something […] When they passed by Milton was just… standing there. I asked him what happened and he said they were taking him to away to heal him, but something felt weird.”

Rowena frowned. Sabrina was talking about Milton again… but she couldn’t mean… Milton was her suspect?! Rowena didn’t know whether to laugh at the idea or cry in despair. Had she really started to hope again for this?

“For months, everyone has told me what I saw was nothing but routine, but I can’t let it go. I've been given several perfectly logical explanations, but I can still feel something in my gut. And I trust my gut. So no, I don’t think Kameren’s dead.”

Gut instinct. That’s what this all came down to. Rowena had trusted her gut before and more often than not it hadn’t ended well. And what Sabrina was describing… it was routine. She’d gotten the details from Milton… well she’d begged Albert to get the details from Milton and he’d relayed the facts to her. Max’s jaw had needed extensive repair, but he’d suffered another attack and so they’d waited to be sure he wouldn’t relapse before operating. It was standard, nothing suspect.

"I just don't know where to look for him."

Rowena sighed heavily. She had spent the past 3 months thinking the exact same things. He’s not dead. Something doesn’t feel right. I’d know if he was dead. I don’t know what to do…. But those thoughts only brought pain and every path she’d chased had only led to despair. She’d found nothing. Perhaps because there was nothing else to be found. The truth was already there in front of her, she had only to accept it.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think you have anything. Milton… is Milton. He wouldn’t hurt Max. He’s been devastated too. Please don’t insinuate otherwise. I consider him a friend.” In reality, Milton had been different to the man she’d known before, a little colder, distant… but had any of them escaped the War unchanged? Rowena had expected comfort and denial about Max’s death when she’d first awoken, had been a little shocked by Milton’s refusal to help her find the truth… but both him and Albert had had several months to process and accept what had happened. And everyone processed grief differently.

No. The other woman’s hunch was too focused on Milton for Rowena to truly believe it. If he’d been acting strange, it was obviously because of the events of that evening. Shock, exhaustion, despair… any one of those would explain any oddness in behavior and all were to be expected in an aftermath of such a battle. Rowena could remember all too well the horrors that had occurred on the battlefield. Had she not been unconscious, she was sure she would have been acting shell-shocked and different too.

But perhaps there was some truth somewhere in Sabrina’s tale… and if there was anything there at all, she owed it to Max to check. But this was the last one. If this lead led to nothing, she would say goodbye. She needed to, or she’d spend her whole life wasting away, mourning for a future that never would be.

“We start at the end,” Rowena said after a long thoughtful pause. “We could ask Milton who the Healers that took him were. Then we can find out who took him back to his room after. I should have asked before… but I was more concerned about his injuries. I didn’t think. Stupid of me. Did you see them? Could you remember them? I suppose it could be possible one of them wasn’t who they said they were.”

It had happened before. After the breakout at Azkaban… when they’d lost Bryn. Hospital security had been severely upgraded since then, but after a battle like that one, with the chaos that she was sure had ensued… well it was possible. He had gotten in after all, if the story were to be believed. Had gotten into Max’s room and taken him once more to the Catacombs where he had… had…

Rowena found herself shaking as she once more went down the dark paths of her imagination. A finger. That’s all they’d found of him. It had taken weeks of pestering to even get that information out of Milton and Albert. She understood why they’d been reluctant. Knowing that information hadn’t helped in any way and had done exactly as Milton had feared, setting her back in her own recovery. Now the nightmares that plagued her weren’t solely of fire and demons, but of a man in the dark, mouth bloody with her love’s remains.

With a pained gasp, Rowena pulled herself back to the present. She tried to remain clinical as she dissected Sabrina’s memory and what it might mean

“Something’s always bothered me,” she admitted. “How did Warghollow get Max to the Catacombs without being seen? When they originally told me, I assumed he had used that creepy shadow power that let him transport even through wards… but then I later found out there had been blood from Max’s room to the elevator… so he can’t have done that. But then how did he move Max and no one see them? Security that night should have been at an all time high, there should have been alarms… there would have been people…” Rowena ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “What am I missing?”

[Sabrina Wells]

"I just don't know where to look for him." Rowena sighed heavily and Sabrina prepared herself for a lecture not unlike the one Jackson administered to her during every argument they’d had in the last seven months: he’s dead. The treatment you witnessed was normal. Besides, Max was like a son to Milton. You didn’t see anything. You didn’t even know him. Why can’t you let this go? Sabrina couldn’t answer that question, just as she couldn’t put into words the irresistible strength of her feeling that something was wrong.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t think you have anything. Milton… is Milton. He wouldn’t hurt Max. He’s been devastated too. Please don’t insinuate otherwise. I consider him a friend.”

You didn’t hear him. Sabrina was no stranger to Milton Bonham’s warmth and charm; she read it in every statement, she saw it in how others would speak about him. The man she spoke with that fateful night was different. He was shifting and cold, like he was hiding something. But with decades of a spotless reputation to hide behind, Sabrina seemed to be alone in her suspicion and feared pushing the matter would only scare Rowena away.

“We start at the end,” Rowena said after a long thoughtful pause. “We could ask Milton who the Healers that took him were. Then we can find out who took him back to his room after. I should have asked before… but I was more concerned about his injuries. I didn’t think. Stupid of me. Did you see them? Could you remember them? I suppose it could be possible one of them wasn’t who they said they were.”

She wanted to help her? Sabrina could barely disguise the grin that lit up her cheeks in relief that she wasn’t being turned away once again. She would help her! Milton would speak to her, not ignore her like he’d done with the requests Sabrina had made over the last few months. “Yes, I remember them,” Sabrina shook her head, “couldn’t forget them.”

“Something’s always bothered me,” she admitted. “How did Warghollow get Max to the Catacombs without being seen? […] there would have been people…” Rowena ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “What am I missing?”

“That’s what I want to ask Milton!” Listening to Rowena’s suspicions around Max’s disappearance made Sabrina exclaim in cathartic agreement, her eyes widening in excitement. “And the orderlies - they were strange too. Not menacing, but not characteristically… healer-ish.” Was there a kinder way to say the faces of the men wheeling Max Kameren out of his room didn’t reflect the intelligence their robes required? The men were the first red flag that etched the interaction into Sabrina’s memory: they were thuggish, ungraceful in their movements as they shoved the gurney down the hall and into a lift. Though she couldn’t be sure if it was the same, they’d left smears of blood in their path too.

Sabrina sighed, meeting Rowena’s eyes to level with her. “I don’t know if I have anything. I don’t know if he’s dead. But I do know if I’m right and no one looks into it, he might as well be.” She just needed help. A lead to go on, someone who shared her viewpoint she could bounce ideas off of. At the moment it looked like Rowena Covington, skeptic that she was, was her only option. “Will you help me?”