Faith

Mary Kelley finished wiping off the counter and looked around to check on her customers. She sighed, her shift was only half over but she was already tired. Too many days doing the same thing, she guessed. The monotony that bothered her didn't seem to bother some of her customers, however.

Take the young Englishman, she thought, glancing over his way to see how he was doing. A handsome, friendly boy, he came into the diner every morning, ordering the largest breakfast on the menu and drinking cup after cup of coffee while working crossword puzzles. He's a puzzle himself, she thought. She noticed he had finished his latest cup, and, picking up the pot, she headed over to his table.

"Would you like more coffee, hon?" she asked.

The man looked up from his crossword puzzle and gave her a crooked smile. "Please," he answered, holding up his cup to be refilled. It was impossible to tell his age, she thought, looking at him. He should be in his mid 30's. But his too-thin frame and his pale blue eyes suggested a longer life than she'd first guessed--that, or a much harder life than she'd like to imagine.

"You wouldn't happen to know a five-letter word for 'humble,' would you?" he asked her. Mary chuckled and poured his coffee. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a cream, just the way he liked it.

She snorted. "Don't you have something better to do than pester me with crossword clues? You'll have to tip better than you normally do for me to solve that puzzle for you."

He put his hand over his heart. "My beautiful lady, you wound me," he said with mock severity. "What better occupation can I have than to spend my mornings here with you?"

"Flatterer," she laughed. "If I were 20 years younger, those type of lines might work."

"More's the pity," he said solemnly, shaking his head. He suddenly gave her a shrewd look. "Or, were you calling me cheap before? I tip very handsomely, I'll have you know."

"Hmm," she said noncommittally. "But tell me, why in the world do you spend so much time in here? Surely a smart boy like yourself has better things to be doing with his time."

He opened his mouth to make a comeback, and then closed it again, looking down at his hands. Oh no, that couldn't be it.

"You do have a place to go, don't you, dear?"

He continued to stare at his crossword puzzle, his hand gripping the coffee cup, knuckles turning white. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck raise. What had she said to cause such a reaction?

"No, Mary, I'm fine," he finally answered in an even tone and looked up at her. But Mary caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, something cold and empty. Not, not empty...they held a hint of anger or...madness, her mind supplied. Mary felt a chill go over her and without thinking took a quick step away from the table. She turned around and walked back toward the counter without a word.

But she couldn't leave it at that, she thought. She looked over her shoulder and called back, "The word you are looking for is 'abase.'" She gave him a shy smile and walked off.

The man looked momentarily confused, then laughed. He wrote the word in and turned to look out the window.

+++++

Sirius Black looked at his reflection in the shiny glass--still a stranger, he thought. He had cut his long, black hair to shoulder length since fleeing Hogwarts. And he had gained weight since escaping from the school, adding muscle and sinew to his skeletal frame. But his eyes--they were still dead. He wasn't sure that would ever change.

His escape from England with Buckbeak had been easy, and he and the hippogriff had traveled south to warmer climes. Eventually, Sirius found a good home for his new friend, preferring to move on alone. He'd traveled to South America, and then worked his way north, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. He took odd jobs for money here and there, living off rats and in caves when there was no money to be had. Now, he found himself on the West Coast, having traveled through California and currently working his way through Washington State. It was beautiful here, he decided, and very, very different from England.

But now as Voldemort searched for a way to return to power and his 14-year-old godson sat alone waiting for another attempt on his life, here sat the great Sirius Black in a backwoods diner drinking coffee and working crossword puzzles. How pathetic, he thought, disgusted with himself. All he'd ever wanted to do was protect his own. And what a wonderful job you did, a snide voice added. The voice sounded suspiciously like Severus Snape to him.

But now it was time to move on. It wouldn't do to have someone other than sweet Mary notice him. Sirius gave a sigh and pulled out the money to pay his tab, adding a nice tip to Mary's pocket, and packed up his books in a worn leather backpack. He walked toward the front, pausing at the entrance with his hand on the door. He turned and looked for Mary, seeing her taking another customer's order. She sensed his attention and looked up, giving him an absent wave. But she must have sensed something different this time, as she stood up straighter, her dark brown eyes meeting his cool blue ones.

Sirius gave her a lopsided grin and raised his hand in good-bye. "Take care, Mary." She nodded slowly and gave him a warm smile in return.

+++++

Swinging the backpack up over his shoulder, Sirius walked outside and around the back where he had parked his motorcycle, an aging Honda. While Sirius enjoyed Buckbeak's company, and could easily move around as a dog, he was glad to be back on a motorcycle again--even if it couldn't fly. The power, the speed, the low rumble coursing through your body, the air rushing around you--it brought back memories of a time before James and Lily's deaths.

Sirius started up the bike, drove through the town square, and headed north out to the open road. Washington State was a beautiful country--with craggy, jutting hills and valleys, tall evergreen trees, and slate blue skies with the whitest clouds he'd ever seen. It was a powerful place. He had scouted out a twisting mountain road to try a few days ago, and he quickly got into the rhythm of leaning the bike into sharp turns, keeping his speed as fast as the road and the bike allowed. There was little traffic on the highway, a few logging trucks passed him heading back down the mountain with their payload, so he made good time. Occasionally his peripheral vision caught site of large lake and camping grounds to his left, enticing him to look. He turned his head for just a glance...

Suddenly, Sirius felt, before he saw, a great black shadow pass out of the other corner of his eye-- a logging truck was turning left onto the road in front of him, completely oblivious to his presence and blocking his way. He pulled the bike down, the rough road scraping the leg caught between it and the motorcycle. Nothing to do, and then mercifully everything went black.

He awoke some time later to a persistent pounding in his head--and the sounds of someone singing in a horribly, off-key voice.

Desperado, you ain't gettin no younger,
Your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home,
And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'.
Your prison is walking through this world all alone.

He opened his eyes to blinding pain. He closed then again, rubbing his head and moaning. The singing had stopped, and now he heard water running and the sounds of plates clanking. Where was he?

"Oh, hell," Sirius muttered, as he rolled over. He squinted this time, discovering he was in a small bedroom. Across from him was a rickety wooden chair masquerading as a nightstand, piled high with books and a small white porcelain vase that held a sprig of dried purple flowers. The wall across from him was a peach colored, covered with black and white photographs.

"Oh, bloody hell," he repeated, turning over on his back and covering his closed eyes with an arm thrown across his face. After a few moments, he slowly sat up and threw back the blue and white striped corduroy cover. He spun his feet over the side of the bed, sitting with his head between his knees until the room stopped moving.

"Here now," said a husky, female voice. He heard the woman put something down on the table. "Lay back down. You've been hurt." Without opening his eyes again, he let the voice help him back in bed, this time propped up against two pillows.

"Where am I?" he finally managed, daring to open his eyes again to look at the pretty woman standing in front of him, hands set disapprovingly on her hips.

She was tall and thin, with straight dark brown hair that softly framed her face and fell just below her shoulders. She had big gray eyes, a small, straight nose, and a full, sensual mouth. A pair of dark blue jeans and a black sleeveless t-shirt emphasized her athletic--but still very feminine, a voice inside his head added--body.

"You are in my fa...I mean, my cabin," she answered. "We're about 10 miles outside of town near Lake Wenatchee. I found you lying on the side of the road. You went up against a logging truck, it seems. You lost. The truck kept going."

"A logging truck, huh? That would explain the blinding pain and aching body. Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

She squinted her eyes at him, giving him a disapproving look. "Thank you," she sniffed, turning back to the two steaming mugs behind her on the dresser. Hot chocolate from the smell of it, Sirius figured. A girl after Albus' own heart. She handed him one mug, complete with cool whip, and looked at him expectantly. There was an uncomfortable silence.

Finally Sirius figured it was up to him to speak. "Excuse me?" Obviously he was more confused than he thought.

"Thank you," she repeated, as if explaining something to a particularly slow child. "It's a polite phrase a person says to someone who just picked them up on the side of the road, brought them back to their house, put them in their own bed, and cared for them for the last few days."

"And a nice bed it is," Sirius chimed in, giving her his best lady-killing smile.

She wasn't impressed. "Hmm..." was all she said.

"Beautiful sheets...and the pictures, very nice," he continued on. "Did you take them yourself?" She didn't say anything, just looked at him over the rim of the mug. Sirius noticed that a bit of whipped cream was stuck on the corner of her lips. He had the sudden urge to wipe it off.

"Umm...I'll just drink my hot chocolate now and be quiet." He took a sip of the chocolate and was heartened to notice that her frown wasn't quite so stern anymore.

"Good hot chocolate," he offered and met her eyes. "Thank you."

"For the chocolate?" she asked, smiling.

"No, for finding me, bringing me to your home, and caring for me in this beautiful bed."

"You're welcome. How do you feel?"

"Like I was hit by a truck," he answered. "Who are you? Why did you bring me here and not to a hospital?"

"Did you want to go to a hospital?"

Sirius felt a moment of panic. Did she know something? "No, but..."

"I don't like hospitals either. You needed help, and I could help." She put her mug down then walked over to the bed. She grabbed his chin in her hands and turned his head, left and right and looked deeply in his eyes.

Sirius caught the faint scents of vanilla and jasmine. His skin, where she touched him, was warm and tingling. "You'll live," she finally concluded. "My name is Ellie Nichols, by the way."

"Hello, Ellie Nichols. My name is..." Different aliases used on his travels came to mind, but he couldn't bring himself to use them. "Sirius Black," he finished, surprised at his honesty in front of a total stranger. If she had heard of him, she didn't show it. She took his mug, pushed him back in bed, and tucked the covers around him.

"Sleep now, Sirius Black."

There were a million things he wanted to ask her, but now they just didn't seem important. "Yes, Ellie," he agreed, and he closed his eyes and miraculously fell back asleep.

+++++

When Sirius woke again, it was morning and the house was quiet. He tried sitting up again. His head throbbed, but not as bad as yesterday. On the dresser, Sirius saw his backpack plus a set of thick towels. He tried standing up and was encouraged to be able to walk. He grabbed the towels and some clean clothes and slowly walked into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

He turned the shower on and, as the water warmed, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was bruised, with scratches and scrapes along his cheek and chin. He'd looked worse after some Quidditch matches, he grinned, but there was no Madam Pomfrey here to do her magic. Funny, he thought, he didn't need to shave. Ellie must have taken care of that too.

Grimacing as his muscles protested movement, he got in the shower and let the warm water course over his body. After a time he emerged from the bathroom clean and neatly dressed in a pair of black jeans, a deep red, long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a pair of boots. He picked up his wand and thought about concealing it in his boot, but decided he wouldn't need it with a Muggle girl.

He left the bedroom to find himself in a light and airy cottage. A great room with an overstuffed burgundy sofa, leather chairs, and a long, low oak coffee table occupied most of the cottage. Along the wall were bookshelves crammed with different types of books, pictures, and pieces of pottery and sculpture. A fireplace with a stone mantle sat to Sirius' left. A small kitchen with a large window that overlooked the forest was on his right. More black and white photographs decorated the walls out here as well.

There was no sign of Ellie, so he made his way to the mantle that was covered with small Muggle photographs. There was a picture of a young Ellie, Sirius figured, with two people he guessed were her parents; pictures with college-age friends; and a picture of Ellie and her father--now older--standing beside two motorcycles on the side of a canyon. Interesting, he smiled, she rides too.

"Hello," said a voice behind him. Sirius jumped. He turned to see Ellie, dressed in a pair of jeans and a jean jacket. "How are you feeling?" He hadn't heard her come in.

"Better, thank you, though I could do with some coffee and food." She laughed and led the way to the kitchen, taking off her jacket. Sirius noticed how the blue t-shirt clung to her figure. "I think we can handle that," she said. She pulled a container of coffee from the refrigerator and started making coffee, oblivious to Sirius' attention.

Concentrate, Black. "I meant to ask you yesterday, did my bike survive the crash?"

Ellie had opened the refrigerator again and was pulling out eggs, milk, cheese, and bacon. She stopped and looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sorry. It was totaled."

Sirius sighed. "That's okay," he said resignedly. "It was a good ol' bike, but it wasn't my favorite bike."

"Oh, where is that?"

"Back home in England, though it's probably gone now too. A friend was caring for it for me, but we...had a falling out. I imagine he took his anger for me out on the bike."

She looked at him shrewdly. "You don't have much luck, do you?"

He snorted and sat down at the bar on the other side of the kitchen counter. "Luck? No. You could say the last few years haven't been kind to me. Being the victim of a hit-and-run with a logging truck is just par for the course." He watched her as she broke the eggs into a ceramic bowl and started whisking in the other ingredients. "But my luck is surely improving, seeing that I woke up to such an angelic voice and face..."

She looked up at him with her eyebrow raised. "Save it, Black, for someone whose buying it," she said, her eyes were twinkling. Sirius laughed.

"Yes, 'mam. Sorry, I can't help it. I'll behave."

She gave a noncommittal "Hmm" and continued making omelets and toast.

"Do you still ride?" he asked. "I saw the picture on the mantle of you and your father." He saw her shoulders stiffen but she continued cooking, never turning around to face him.

"No, I don't ride anymore," she said shortly.

"Is that your father's Norton in the photo? You don't see many English bikes here in the States. Does he still ride?"

She turned to look at him, annoyed now. "He doesn't ride anymore, either. He's dead."

Good going, Black. "I'm sorry, Ellie. I didn't mean to bring up something that's painful."

She sighed and shook her head. "No, it's not you. He hasn't been gone that long. It's still hard." Then, changing the subject, they began eating the food Ellie served and passed the rest of the time comfortably. Ellie told him about her life as a freelance photographer, and Sirius told her stories of traveling from job to job. After helping her clean up, Sirius looked outside and wondered what he should do now.

"If you could give me a ride back into town... I don't want to impose on you anymore," he finally offered, not wanting to go but not knowing what else to do. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"If you want, you could stay here a few days," she haltingly offered. Then quickly she added, "You just got back on your feet - stay, sleep in the guest bedroom. It's just me around here. It would be good to have company for a change."

She's as lonely as I am, Sirius realized. But whatever else he knew, he knew he didn't want to go, not yet. "Maybe there are some chores or something I could do in return..."

She laughed. "I'm sure there is something here you could do, though it's not necessary. If you want, you could go out to the garage and bring in some firewood. It will get cool here tonight. You'll be glad for it later. "

"It's a deal. One load of firewood coming up." Sirius practically jumped out the door, happy to be able to spend one more day in Ellie Nichol's presence. It had been so long since he felt normal, since he'd been around a woman who interested him so much. Keep it together, Black, he scolded. She's lonely. She just wants a friend, nothing more.

But he couldn't help but feel that his luck was changing as he headed out the door, whistling. He walked around the side of the cabin, breathing deeply and enjoying the scents and sounds of the mountains. The outbuilding looked to be part garage, part storage area. He pulled up the sliding door and walked inside. That the garage hadn't been used much lately was evident. Tarps covered a few tables, and a thick layer of dust coated the workbench and mechanic's tools. Sirius looked around amazed at the amount of stuff crammed into the garage, everything but...a car. Sirius thought about his walk to the garage: no vehicles. No cars or motorcycles. How did...

Just then something else caught his eye--several boxes of motorcycle parts plus two spare tires piled together in the corner of the garage. He walked over and started poking in the boxes.

"A basketcase," he said, wondrously.

"What? You or the bike?" she said, sneaking up behind him. He jumped again.

"I wish you would stop doing that," he said crossly, and then realized what he'd been caught doing. "I'm sorry. I walked in and I saw this. Do you know what this is? It looks like all the parts to put together an Indian Chief, looks like a 1950..."

"'51," she corrected.

He nodded but didn't stop. "Yeah, '51 model. This is the only American bike to give Harley-Davidson a run for its money. These bikes were incredible. This one was built for speed and could easily go more than 95 mph. Indians are rare. The company quit production soon after this bike was made..." he stopped, realizing he was babbling.

"Sorry," he finally said, smiling. "I guess you know all this, huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"This is every bike enthusiast's dream--to find a basketcase--an entire motorcycle, all original parts. I can't believe it." Sirius had never been so giddy before.

Ellie smiled. "I know. You remind me of my father when he found these boxes in an estate auction. He wanted so much to put the bike together, but he never got the chance." She looked down at the boxes a moment then back up at him.

"Can you do it? You were looking for something to do--could you put my father's bike together? He'd want someone to do it, and I can't."

Sirius looked at the boxes and then at Ellie. "It would be my pleasure."

+++++

The next morning Sirius was up early, eager to start work on the bike. He jumped in the shower, glad that most of the soreness was gone, and then went to shave. She's seen you at your worst, Black, he thought wryly, but still, it wouldn't hurt to spruce up a little. Sirius pulled his wand from his stack of clothes, not wanting to take the time to actually shave. He looked at himself in the mirror, surprised to see that his face was still smooth, no stubble. How strange, he thought. He shrugged and went outside. He had other things to do.

The cabin was quiet. Since he'd brought in the last of the firewood last night, Sirius took his wand to "cut" some more, as he didn't feel quite up to heavy chopping yet. Then, perhaps, he could try to make breakfast for her. It seemed the least he could do.

Sirius went out to the garage, steeling himself not to look at the bike. There would be time enough for that later. Walking over to the stacks of firewood, he pulled out his wand. Then he stopped, his wand poised in mid-air -- there was a new supply of kindling. But I was sure I used the last of it last night. Perhaps Ellie had beaten him to the punch this morning.

Grabbing a load of wood, he went back into the house and put the kindling next to the fireplace. Brushing away stray wood chips, he headed over to the refrigerator to pull out the makings of a big breakfast. He put on some bacon to fry, and then, after a few moments, started the eggs. So intent was he on what he was doing, he didn't hear Ellie behind him.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. He jumped and turned around. Beautiful as ever, he thought, this morning dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a chocolate colored sweater. "My, aren't we ready to face the day?"

"Very true. There's no rest for the wicked," he answered. "I haven't made the coffee yet. Would you like some?" At her nod, he went over and started working on a pot.

"It was hard to sleep last night," he confided to her, "because I couldn't stop thinking about the bike. I can't wait to get my hands on it, to make sure all the parts really are there." He put water in the pot and continued. "I can understand why your dad was so excited about the bike, Ellie. It's really incredible that he found..."

"Sirius," she interrupted. He turned to look at her.

"Hmm?"

"Your eggs are burning," she said with a smile, nodding her head in the direction of the stove.

"Dammit," he cursed, running over and grabbing the hot skillet with his bare hands. He dropped it in the sink with another curse, turning to give Ellie a dirty look at her snicker. She sat up straight and tried to look serious when he glared at her.

"Some help you are," he said sternly.

She tried to look hurt. "I told you the eggs were burning."

"Hmph, that was your breakfast that was just ruined," he said, heading over to the refrigerator and pulling it open. "I used the last of the eggs, but there should be something else to fix..." Sirius' voice trailed off as he stared at a brand new carton of eggs sitting in what was an empty spot a few moments before. His mind raced.

"What's wrong?" she said, the humor now gone from her voice.

"Who are you?" he demanded, turning toward her. His hand itched for his wand.

She looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What are you?" he asked again. He pointed toward the frig. "A minute ago there were no eggs. Now there are eggs. Last night, I used the last of the firewood. Now there's firewood. And, did you shave me while I was unconscious? I haven't had to shave since I've been here. What are you? What is this place?"

Ellie met his eyes without blinking. "What do you think I am? If you're the great detective, why don't you tell me?"

He shook his head. He didn't think Ellie was a witch, and he didn't think he was making these things happen unconsciously. So where did that leave them? Was she fey or a spirit? Was he in a time warp? He didn't know and wished he'd paid more attention to his studies at Hogwarts, but one thing he knew, he couldn't stay here.

"I'm out of here," he declared, walking around the counter and heading to gather his belongings.

"I'm no threat to you, Sirius Black," she said quietly. He stopped and waited. "You are safe and welcome here, as long as you need this place," she continued.

"What are you?" he asked again, turning around to meet her eyes. She hadn't moved from the counter. She just stood there and stared.

"I'm lonely," she answered. "Isn't that what you thought? You were right. I need this place...and so do you."

"You have to have faith," she continued, when he didn't say anything.

He shook his head. "I lost that a long time ago."

She walked over and stood in front of him. "You've lost everything, haven't you? Don't you have any family, Sirius? Don't you have a home of your own?"

"What is it about the women in my life that they always worry about where I have to go?" he answered with a bitter laugh. "No family. My mother died when I was young. I was raised by my grandmother." He was quiet for a moment. "She died a few years ago, while I was...away."

"I'm sorry," Ellie said. "But you have to have someone you're close to. Don't you have any friends?"

"I lost my friends years ago. Two of them were murdered. One is...sick and travels more than I do. The other one...well, I'll find him soon enough," Sirius said with cold certainty.

Ellie gave him a strange look. "What happened to you?"

He gave her a short, bitter laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest--it was getting cold in the cabin. "What happened? I told you. I haven't had the best luck in the last 13 years."

"Isn't there anything in your life that's good?"

Sirius thought a moment. "There's Harry, my godson. He's James and Lily's son, my friends who were murdered," Sirius explained to her. "He's a wonderful kid. I'm his guardian."

"Then why aren't you with him?"

"Because I can't be," he said, looking down.

" 'Can't?' What's important enough to keep you away from him if you obviously love him so much?"

"You know, you don't know anything about me or my godson. We were talking about you and this place, not about me." He stalked toward the front door, then stopped and looked back at her. "If I could, I'd be with him right now. But I can't," he repeated, angry with himself for even having this conversation.

"You're right, Sirius. I don't know anything about you, except that you seem to feel extremely sorry for yourself."

"Sorry for myself?" Sirius strode back towards her and looked down at her angrily. "You don't know anything about me!" he said coldly. "You don't know what I've been through or what I'm running from. You sit up here in this little cabin and pretend to be part of the world. What do you know about loss or betrayal?"

"We've all had pain in our life. People are taken away from us everyday. I know about loss. And I know life might not always be fair, but it's all you've got."

Sirius gave her a bitter laugh. "Fair? There's nothing fair in my life. I had it all. I was smart, powerful, popular," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I had good friends, a good life, a bright future ahead of me. And then...someone decided to hurt James and Lily."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to protect them. I...hid them. I thought I could keep them safe, keep Harry safe, by making myself the target. Then, when they were safe, I could hide too. I had it all worked out," he said with a grimace.

"What happened?" she whispered.

He snorted. "I decided to trust one of our friends with the secret. No one would suspect poor little Peter. They would come after me instead."

"But someone did suspect Peter..." Ellie offered.

"Oh, no, worse than that," Sirius sneered. "Peter decided to change sides. He gave up my friends as payment." Sirius was quiet, remembering that night. "I found them, their house destroyed, Harry miraculously unhurt."

"And Peter?"

"Oh, Peter was more clever than I ever gave him credit for," Sirius explained. "He framed me for their murders. Everyone believed I did it. My best friend, my teachers... I guess I wasn't as much of the golden boy as I thought. My grandmother was the only one who believed I was innocent."

Ellie was quiet. If what she heard scared her, she didn't show it. "Are you on the run?"

Sirius knew he should stop, but he couldn't. "I was in...prison for 13 years. I escaped when I learned where Peter was, that he could hurt Harry. I've a score to settle with him, see?"

She looked at him a moment before answering. "I see. I see that it's not only your friends' deaths that make you so crazed. It's your wounded pride."

"Pride?!"

She didn't back down. "Yes, pride. You were the great Sirius Black. You could paint a target on your back and still protect your friends. But it didn't work. And not only that, obviously something about you made those people you were closest to believe you could betray your friends. Poor Sirius. Now the only thing you care about is finding this man and making him pay. Have you found him yet?"

"Oh, yes, I found him," Sirius answered, remembering. "I did some horrible thing to get to him, but I had him." He looked down at his hands, remembering the blood lust.

"Then why didn't you kill him?"

The question caught him off-guard. "Because Harry asked me not to."

"For 13 years you sat in prison waiting for the day to kill this man..."

"Rat," Sirius corrected with a feral grin.

"This rat," she continued. "And because a boy you barely knew asked you to spare his life, you did?" She sounded quite surprised.

"Of course," he said. "Harry lost..." He stopped, his voice trailing off.

"Harry lost something too that night," she finished for him. "Something more than you?"

He looked at her, and then simply nodded yes.

She smiled. "Then there's hope for you yet."

+++++

Whether or not there was hope for him, Sirius could ruefully look at the conversation and realize what it was--a way for Ellie not to discuss who she was or what was going on at the cabin. Still, life moved on from that moment. Ellie seemed to take him at his word, unconcerned that she was harboring a fugitive in her house. Sirius was still a little uneasy and confused, but he needed this time too much to question it further. Instead, he started rebuilding the bike, and each morning new firewood was neatly stacked in the garage and any food they needed miraculously appeared. A comfortable routine settled on the cabin. Where Ellie went during the day, Sirius had no idea. And somehow he didn't care any more. At night they spent their time drinking beer and playing wild games of Scrabble or quietly reading. It was a good life.

All too soon the day came when the bike was finished. Sirius polished the chrome and stood back to look at his work.

"It's beautiful," Ellie said from behind him. Sirius didn't even jump. He was used to her sudden appearances. He cleaned his hands on a rag and looked at her. "Dad would have loved it," she said wistfully.

"You can ride it now. He would have loved that too," Sirius told her. He walked over to her and looked down at her. She looked away.

"No, I can't," she said petulantly.

"Ellie Nichols," he said, reaching out and tilting up her chin so that she looked at him. He met her eyes--sad, hurt, haunted. It was a look he recognized. "The bike is finished, so tell me now, what's going on here?"

Her eyes filled with tears, one lone tear slipping down her cheek. He reached out a thumb to brush it aside. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know what's going on anymore, what's real, what's..."

"Shhh. It doesn't matter," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands and reaching down to kiss her softly on the lips. He felt her stiffen slightly then ease into the kiss, leaning slightly toward him. His lips bit and kissed at hers, his tongue slowly tracing the outline of her mouth before slipping inside to explore her mouth. She moaned against him. Shyly at first, then with growing hunger, he felt her return his kiss, her tongue demanding and then teasing.

He broke away to catch his breath. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you," he chuckled. She smiled and stepped away, pushing back her hair.

"What am I going to do with you, Sirius Black?" she asked, blushing.

He looked at her, letting hunger fill his eyes. He saw her shiver. "I can think of a few things," he said, his voice huskier than he remembered. "But there's something we have to do first."

Her smile faltered. "What?" she answered.

He reached out and grabbed her, pulling back her head so that his tongue could trace a hot line from the hollow of her throat to her ear. "We need to take a ride," he whispered.

+++++

An hour and a half later they were still riding--and Sirius wasn't sure if she was going to stop. She drove faster than he did, taking the turns on the curvy mountain roads like an expert, even with him holding on to her for dear life. By dusk, she must have had enough and returned home. They didn't say anything as they walked into the house.

Sirius watched Ellie walk over to the mantle and take down the picture of her and her father. She stared at it, absently tracing the lines of his face. He could see that she was crying.

"Ellie, I didn't mean to..." he started, taking a step toward her.

"No," she said as she put the picture back and turned to him. "You didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you helped. I haven't felt anything in a very long time." She started walking toward him. She stopped in front of him, the smell of vanilla and jasmine filling his nostrils, and slowly reached up to trace the line of his jaw with her fingers. His hand reached out and cupped hers, turning her palm up so that he could lay a long kiss on her wrist above her pulse. He felt it quicken beneath his lips.

He looked up and saw the hunger in her eyes. "I haven't felt anything in a long while either. Thank you for helping me feel something good again." They smiled at one another and then moved toward each other on a silent, but unmistakable, cue. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he pulled her close, wrapping his hands around her waist. "What am I going to do with you, Ellie Nichols?" he asked.

She kissed him hard on the mouth, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth, exploring. "Oh, I can think of a few things," she said, pulling away and leading him to the bedroom.

They fell on the bed laughing, and then suddenly serious, they pulled off each other's clothes, replacing missing garments with hot kisses and rough caresses. Sirius watched her arch to meet his caresses as his hand slid down her stomach and between her legs. She seemed starved for human touch, and Sirius was determined to give it to her.

Afterwards, they lay in the bed with the sheet pulled around them. Ellie shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked, pulling her close. She cuddled close to him.

"I can't get warm," she answered.

Sirius sat up, propping himself on his elbow and looking down at her. "In my world, ghosts are spirits, without corporeal presence. Why are you different? What happened to you?"

He felt Ellie become perfectly still. "My mother died when I was eight," she slowly said. "So I was always very close to my father." She was silent for a moment, but Sirius just waited. He smoothed her rumpled hair, twirling a piece around one of his fingers.

"He raised me in Seattle, but we spent as much time here as we could. He would put me on the back of the Norton and drive up here. He was thrilled when I was old enough to ride on my own. He was so proud, and the times I rode with him were some of the best times of my life."

She sighed and met his eyes. "Two years ago, Dad was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. He had never been sick a day of his life, and within six months of that diagnosis he was dead," her voice turned bitter. "All he wanted to do was come here to die, but I couldn't get him here in time. He died a horrible, painful death in a hospital miles from where he wanted to be." She started to cry and that seemed to make her angrier. "It wasn't fair. He was all I had."

"No, it's never fair," he agreed, brushing her tears away with his free hand.

"I had a friend bring me here to stay after the funeral. I thought I could find closure here, to start to feel again, but I didn't. Every day I walked outside and saw his Norton, parked in the garage, but I could never bear to ride it. Finally, I couldn't stand being cooped up any longer. I took the bike out."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was too careless. I pushed the bike too far, driving too fast."

"A logging truck?" he guessed.

She nodded. "Not too far from where I found you. Perhaps that's why I was able to find you, I don't know. You were the first living thing I noticed in a long while." She sat up and wrapped the sheet around her. "I'm scared, Sirius," she whispered. He lay back down on the bed, pulling her close. He whispered comforting words and slowly caressed her hair.

"Sleep, Ellie. Just sleep." He felt her sigh and move closer to him. After a while, her breathing evened out and he thought she was asleep.

"Thank you, Sirius Black," she said, drowsily.

"Thank you, Ellie Nichols."

+++++

Sirius woke up the next morning to the sound of Hedwig, Harry's owl, fluttering at the window. He was alone in bed, and the house was silent. He got up and opened the window, raising an arm for the owl to gently land on. He took Harry's note from the owl and read it. Harry needed him. It was time to return home.

"I'm not sure what's here to eat," he told the owl, rubbing its feathers. "But you are welcome to rest here. I'm sure there is plenty to eat outside." The owl hooted a reply, affectionately nipping at his fingers before jumping off to land on the windowsill. He looked at Sirius patiently.

Sirius pulled on a pair of jeans and walked into the living room. He noticed the flowers on the dining room table were wilted; otherwise, the cabin was the same. He walked over to the mantle and pulled down the picture of Ellie and her father, removing it from its frame. It would take its place next to other two pictures he carried: one, a picture of the Marauders from James and Lily's wedding day; the other, a picture of Harry.

Hedwig cooed softly from the other room. Sirius needed to get moving. He went back into the other room to pack, stopping to look at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were still haunted, but there was something about the man looking back at him that was almost familiar.

Whistling, he packed up his belonging then went outside to see if he could remember how to make a motorcycle fly.