Liberté Foncée

She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile
Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign.
Her cold eyes imploring the men in their macs
For the gold in their bags or the knives in their backs.
Stepping up boldly one put out his hand.
He said, "I was just a child then, now I'm only a man."

-- Pink Floyd, Your Possible Pasts

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Two weeks later, Christmas day dawned cold and grey. There was no snow on the ground, just an inch-thick frosting of melting sleet.

"You know, we used to have white Christmases," Ayden said thoughtfully.

Adrienne shook her head. "Not often."

"But not never."

She shrugged and checked her watch. "I've got to go."

Ayden turned around. "You're leaving? Where to?"

"To where," Adrienne corrected. "Never end a sentence with a preposition."

"It was a question," Ayden sulked.

"Also known as an interrogative statement. Don't argue with me about grammar, Ayden; you'll lose. There's a meeting, apparently. Dumont woke me up last night to let me know about it." She paused to roll her eyes dramatically. "Apparently there's some emergency. I've no idea what it's about."

"Ah." Ayden turned back to his post at the window as she left, and let his thoughts roam. They weren't thoughts, really, more of incoherent and random flashes of past Christmases. He remembered waking up in the morning, bouncing out of bed to go see whether Father Christmas had come yet. When he was little, he set out milk and cookies every December twenty-fourth, and was thrilled to see that all that was left the next morning was a few crumbs an empty glass. Even after his parents were gone, Mark kept up the charade for a few years. This had ended one evening when Ayden was ten; he fell asleep over War and Peace, which was how Ayden found him in the morning after getting over his shock of no gifts under the tree and the untouched plate of biscuits.

His nostalgia was interrupted by a yawn and Cal's voice wishing him "Happy Christmas," sleepily, handing him a box.

Ayden blinked. "What's this?"

"A present."

"Bollocks; we were supposed to buy gifts?"

"S'what I said," Conlon said grimly. "Merry Christmas."

"Am I the only person who remembered that it's Christmas?" Cal asked, exasperated.

Ayden and Conlon looked at each other. "Did you honestly think," Ayden asked, "that Adrienne's busy life of murder and everything that entails could be disturbed by something as trivial as Christmas?"

The redhead frowned. "In that case, you might as well open your gifts. They're the only ones you'll get, apparently."

"Yes, right." Ayden glanced at the small box in his hand uncertainly. He certainly didn't think Cal would deliberately give him anything explosive or potentially humiliating, but he wasn't very well acquainted with her tastes just quite yet. He shook it. No noise.

"It's not going to blow up," said Cal defensively.

"I didn't say it would," Ayden replied, carefully removing the wrapping paper, which, apparently, was custom-designed: a repeating pattern of globes in triangular shapes, each with a crown on one point and a letter C embossed on the center. He paused a moment to take this in and then gave Cal a terrified look.

"It was a gift," she said. "My friends were... mad."

"Obvio'sly," Conlon said. "Why don't I get a present?"

She smiled cheerfully. "That comes later," she promised.

Ayden ignored the unabashed public display of affection that followed and opened the box in which his gift was wrapped. He blinked at it. But he'd been taught to be polite, even if he didn't enjoy a gift, so he said, "Thank you, Cal. Very much." She beamed. Then, unable to resist, added, "Er... what is it?"

"Holy cotton."

"Holy... what?"

"Holy cotton."

"I see."

"It's supposed to be protection from vampires," explained Cal.

Ayden studied it closer. The thing was small, a little rectangular pouch only a few centimeters on each side. Embroidered in gold thread on the front was a cross. He turned it over, only to see it was sewn shut. "So... it works like a cross? Repels them?"

"Yes. I think. You pin it to your clothing and I suppose it works like a good-luck charm. Against bad, fang-y things." Conlon snickered, and Cal stuck her tongue out at him.

"You know, it wouldn't work against all vampires."

"What? Why?"

"Well, see, the crucifix bears absolutely no significance to a non-Christian vampire. I mean, I don't know what would work in its place against, say, a Muslim vampire, but why should it be afraid of something it didn't believe in even when it was alive?"

"You hafta make small talk first," Conlon said, nodding. "Get into asking 'em about their religious trainin' first."

"Hrrf," Cal said.

"It's a lovely present," Ayden assured her.

"It is! Just think of it! I mean, how did the cotton become holy? It's fascinating! Did a sheep drink holy water and become holy and contribute to the vampire-fighting peoples of the world? Or did a plant get watered by holy water and then the sheep ate it and--"

"Cotton," Adrienne said dryly entering the room, "is a plant."

"I know! I mean... Boo."

"There may be trouble," Adrienne said briskly.

"Trouble?" Ayden asked, pinning the pouch to his shirt to make Cal happy.

"You'll hear all about it in a few hours at most." She fidgeted slightly. "This could be a big night. You'll all want to get some breakfast and then have a good Christmas. Just enjoy yourselves today."

"Usually I like hearin' those words," said Conlon.

"You'll know what this is about soon enough," Adrienne repeated. "Go do something. Get a cup of coffee, have sex, find a telly somewhere and watch a holiday special. I don't care."

There was a pause.

"Okay," Cal said finally. "Come on." She took Conlon's arm and briskly steered him out of the room.

Ayden waited until they were completely gone. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"You'll know soon--"

"Or you could just tell me now."

Adrienne sighed. She looked around to make sure no one was listening, but lowered her voice all the same. "There's been word of a possible attack."

"Here?"

"Yes. Tonight. When it's least expected. Bastards." She said down and closed her eyes.

"Who?"

"Fighters. Aurors. Both. We're not sure. Our informant was fuzzy on the details."

"And they're sure it's tonight?"

"It does make sense. We'll be less together and ready if half of us are too sloshed to walk." She pulled her wand from her pocket and conjured a cup of coffee. She took a deep gulp of it.

Ayden shuddered. "Disgusting."

Adrienne rolled her eyes and raised the mug in a mock toast. "Happy fucking Christmas."

"Cheery little elf, aren't you?"

"Don't kid yourself. I look just as bad in green as you do."

*

DECEMBER 13, 2118

Feeling ill, Shane stepped into the small cell. He looked over his shoulder at the Auror standing by the door. The man had his wand at the ready, hard, dark eyes monitoring him closely.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking another step forward.

Rayne was sitting on the ground in the far corner of the cell, resting her chin on her knees, arms hugging her legs. She didn't say anything.

Shane tried to say something comforting or helpful. It didn't work, and instead, all that came out was a feeble, "I'm sorry." His voice cracked on the second syllable and he coughed.

"I don't see what for," she replied after another long, uncomfortable while. "After all, if I'm insane and a criminal, then I deserve this, now don't I?"

"I know you're not a criminal."

"You didn't seem quite so positive an hour ago."

"There was nothing I could have done to make them listen to me. Those people - the court, the judge - they don't know you. They... they didn't believe a word you said. They thought you were insane."

"But you didn't even try! You didn't even try to help, to say anything! You just sat there!"

"Believe me, if I could have done anything... But it wouldn't have done any good. None of them could believe you. All of them know Ayden's dead. They didn't see how he could have possibly been there, kept them from killing you then set you up."

"You don't believe me either." She was on her feet now, though she didn't remember standing up. "Admit it."

"I don't think you killed anyone. I don't... Look, who knows what might have happened after Ayden left. You weren't stable, Rayne. Even if you don't remember doing any of it--"

"I would have remembered! I'm not insane, Parker. I know what happened. I got caught, along with a few others. Ayden was there. He was supposed to kill me, but instead he had this arranged - I get blamed for murder and the Death Eaters in prison for those murders walk free and go back to their Lord. It's all perfectly clear. You just don't seem to see it."

"I... I want to believe you." He took her hand and squeezed it. "But Ayden's dead, Rayne. He's dead and even if he wasn't, he'd never work for You-Know-Who. He couldn't. He--he wouldn't."

Rayne jerked her hand away and turned to face the wall. "They're shipping me off to Azkaban in the morning," she said. Shane said nothing, just stood where he was helplessly. "Maybe this is all a horrible dream and I'll wake up any minute," Rayne said. Again, nothing. "I am insane. My brain could have just put this all together to scare the shit out of me."

Shane opened his mouth to say something - either to try again to defend himself and his lack of action, or to just try and be reassuring - but he never got the chance. The Auror by the door slid it open and motioned for him to get out. "Time over," he said coldly.

Shane stumbled back out of the cell, slightly dazed. When he got to the exit, he glanced back. Rayne was still facing the wall, determinedly looking in the exact opposite direction.

*

There was no point in going home, Shane knew. He wouldn't be able to sit still or sleep or anything of the sort. Instead, he let himself wander for what he was sure was hours. His watch had been broken for months anyway; time wasn't really important.

It was important to keep moving. He could concentrate on changing scenery if he kept moving. Of course, it got harder in the dark, sometime around two in the morning. That was when he just blanked out and let his feet carry him, trying to make his mind completely bare.

Eventually, Shane found himself in a clearing in the woods. If one looked carefully, they could see that it had once been visited regularly. There was a sort of casual uniformity in the way the tree stumps and blocks of wood were arranged around what had once been a frequently lit fire pit.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the old lighter, flicking it open and on. There was little dry wood anywhere, but he didn't need a big fire. Just something on which to concentrate.

For some reason, it didn't seem quite as absurd as it should have when someone else entered the clearing and sad down wordlessly.

Alena was pale, very white-skinned in the darkness. "I was looking for you," she said after a while. "I should have thought of this place sooner." Shane shrugged and kept staring at the fire. "I was there, you know," she continued. "The trial, that is."

This time he turned to look at her, and Alena was the one to look away.

"You know she couldn't be right," he said.

"Is that why you didn't even try to say anything on her behalf? You thought she was lying?"

Shane groaned. "Fuck, you too?"

"We never found a body."

"You think Ayden would really--"

"Does Rayne being a murderer make any more sense?"

"That's different! She was unstable and--"

"Shane, think about it! How many times did Ayden just have to leave without giving us a reason? How many times did you ask him about it and get no real answer?"

Shane clenched his fist and closed his eyes. "They killed his family, remember that? And then they went back to finish the job and took care of Violet too."

"That was never proven."

"And now you're defending them?" he demanded.

"I'm not defending them. But whatever maybe have happened with Ayden, I think Rayne's telling the truth. And I don't think you'd be so sure she was insane if it wasn't Ayden she'd seen."

Shane glared at her. "I'm leaving," he declared, getting to his feet.

"You're running."

He smiled bitterly. "I've been through enough abuse today."

"You deserve it," Alena replied coldly. "Rayne was the best friend you had left and you didn't even make an effort."

Shane didn't turn back around, just called back over his shoulder, "There was no effort to be made."

*

What about the world today
What about the place that we call home
We've never been so many
And we've never been so alone

You keep watching from your picket fence
You keep talking but it makes no sense
You say we're not responsible
But we are, we are

-- Ana Johnsson, We Are

DECEMBER 24, 2118

"They expect we'll get hit some time tomorrow night," Dumont was telling the room. "Our Lord feels it will be best to keep our knowledge of the impending attack hidden from the enemy. We are to be prepared for them, but they will not know it until we catch them off guard and..."

Ayden stopped listening after a while, and Dumont droned on. He got the picture. Someone had finally figured out where the Death Eaters were located, despite the hundreds of security measures in place.

He drifted away from the crowd gathered around the table Dumont was standing on and to the side where Conlon was leaning against a wall, frowning and distractedly listening to the middle aged wizard as he kept talking.

"They're scared," he said disdainfully. "All of 'em."

"Got a right to be, don't they?" said Ayden. "I mean, aren't you?"

"Nah. At least, I ain't scared for me." His eyes were fixed on a shock of red hair amongst the brown and blonde Death Eaters. "She ain't a killer, Ayden. She knows how to mess with people's minds and drive 'em mad, but she's got this thing about killing."

"I can relate." Conlon shook his head. "She's a strong woman, she'll make it," Ayden said.

"Hope so." He sighed heavily. "Guess we'll find out, eh?"

*

That evening, the common room was tense. The usual card and chess games weren't in session, and conversation was limited.

Cal was curled up beside Conlon on a couch, resting her head against his shoulder as he polished his wand. Ayden was toying with a pack of playing cards, shuffling and reshuffling, just to give his hands something to do. Adrienne was sitting stonily still in an arm chair, deep in thought.

"Do we know what time we expect anything to start?" asked Cal tentatively.

"Around midnight, I think."

"What time is it?"

Ayden pushed his sleeve back to check his watch. "Ten fifty-two."

"It ain't set in stone," Conlon pointed out.

"Right." Ayden nodded. "Right."

Adrienne spoke for the first time, focused on a single spot on the floor. "Ayden, I want to talk to you."

He looked surprised. "All right."

Adrienne looked to Conlon. He continued determinedly polishing, seemingly not listening. Beside him, Cal closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him, seeming almost satisfied.

"Maybe somewhere else," Adrienne said casually.

"Right..." Ayden got to his feet slowly, watching Conlon and Cal for more reaction carefully. None came.

Adrienne, on the other hand, didn't seem overly interested in reactions. She took Ayden's arm and briskly steered him out of the room.