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9/27
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Harry Potter:"Do you really think there's going to be a war, Sirius?"
Sirius Black: "It… feels like it did before."
TURN ON THE LIGHT is a Post- Potter roleplay that takes place twenty-five years after the Second Wizarding War.
We welcome canon and original characters in this (currently) sandbox style roleplay.
Today was a bad day. Bad days were common in Allen’s line of work, truthfully. It was a case close to his heart. Similar to one he worked on many years ago, in which he tried to save a young woman from a terrible fate. He couldn’t save this girl. Though. They went to serve the warrant today. Bring the bad guys in. Save the good girl. But when they went to infiltrate they were gone. Vanished. They would never be found again. It was a cruel, heartbreaking fate. But fate often was. He couldn’t save everyone. Hell, clearly, he couldn’t even save himself. So, today was a really bad day. The kind of day in which Allen required assistance to transcend. Liquid assistance. He knew better. He knew he and alcohol were not friends, and that if anything it was a toxic relationship. The highs were high. But the lows were abysmal. He couldn’t think about the repercussions. At least Krys wouldn’t be there to see him. She didn’t come to places in which imbibing was the primary activity. It was often an overstimulating endeavor, or so Allen had thought. Besides, the shame would be immeasurable. And his headspace was poor. He had to cure himself. And he knew just the place to do it.
Down the Hatch was owned by Phil Abbott. In some people’s minds, Phil was an out-and-out villainesque figure. In Allen’s mind, Phil was a character. Inarguably one of the most annoying people Allen had ever met. Consistently insufferable. Consistently hilarious. He was a mouth. And Allen couldn’t be bothered by what was just a mouth. The bar itself was hopping, flooded with colleagues. Most of them donned smiles, and barking laughter and exclamations filled the establishment with glee and merriment. Allen felt the disconnect pulling at him. His drink of choice that night was the old-fashioned. Allen had a preference for muggle concoctions. He attributed that to them having more to worry about, and less ability to control their problems. Pain often breeds success, according to his father.
He swirled his glass in his right hand, the contents of his fifth old-fashioned sloshing around in his Dorset double glass. The sounds around the room muffled and stifled against his inebriation. His eyelids were heavy, both from liquor and sorrow. Bags formed under them, red and puffy. Shit. Just.. shit. He looked to his left and saw Regis. Regis was chatting up some woman that Allen had never seen before. That was quintessential Regis. At least this time, he was doing it in a space that made sense, and not out in the field. He shook his head slowly, an audible chuckle escaping. His head spun right, to see Aiko. Looking as solemnly as he did. That made sense. She was on the case with him. She was as close to it as she was. No shame in sadness. It just means she had a heart. Her face was wet with tears. He didn’t want to say anything. It wasn’t his place. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Aiko placed a hand on top of that hand, sighing deeply.
“It’s not fair Allen. It’s just not fair.” “I know. It never is. The world is a cold place.”
She nodded, polishing off the last of her vodka cranberry before rubbing his hand, getting up, and promptly leaving the bar. More power to her. He hoped she would sleep well that night. He finished the last of his old-fashioned, and pushed it forward slightly on the bar, signaling to the bartender to create another for him. It was going to be a long night. Ideally, he wouldn’t remember it.
She never went to parties. She didn't do well at them. Parties were filled with all of the things that she was lousy at. Communicating with people who were not Allen, actively listening to people who weren't Allen and feigning interest in whatever they said, being occasionally lightly touched on the elbow or bumping against someone which she couldn't really handle at all. And yet, here the Head of Magical Tech was.
She had only decided moments ago that she would attend if only because Allen was only pushing (gentle yet firm in his own special way) to get her to go out and do things. Not because it would make her normal or anything like that but because it would be a good experience for her. He hadn't invited her to this particular instance, but she had heard folks talking about it in the halls and when she had spotted Allen in the hallway back fresh from a mission she tried to approach him but he hadn't seen her. He looked lost, sad... And for some reason that made her feel like she would need to do something. A quick visit to the store across the street and she returned to his office with a can of Campbells soup. Not homemade like his but soup was probably soup, right? But Allen wasn't there. Down the Hatch, right. He must be with everyone. Well, if that's where he was that's where she would be. She looked down at herself. She couldn't very well go in big boots and patched up pants with a hoodie with her googles could she?
Standing in front of Down the Hatch wearing a pale green dress with white frill with daisies on it and a matching green pullover (a birthday gift from Allen's sister one year go figure that she was only now wearing for the first time) she took a long shaky breath. This was overwhelming for a number of reasons. Large groups, alcohol, some mean coworkers - all of her least favorite things... but one of her favorites was also in there and that won out.
"Welcome to Down the Hatch, pop a squat or squat a pot whatever is your deal. I do not judge. Well, I do.. But I try to keep it inside, you know the deal." Stepping inside the bar and hugging the door Phil was wiping down the bar and didn't look up at first but did his usual greeting. A brief glance up to see the nervous woman slowly step into the crowd looking fearful for her very life had his eyes widening. "Gremlin?!" He blinked, getting a second good look at her then looking back at his inebriated friend and top customer Allen. "Oh shit. This isn't gonna be good. Uh... Watts... Hey Allen... Allen!" He did his best to beat her to his friend, not really wanting things to get bad for either of them but also because it would bring down the positive vibes of his bar. He raced over a mini fridge, some stools, some other items he forgot to pick up only tripping once (or twice) before he reached the far end of the bar and Allen.
"Gremlins have infiltrated the building gremlins have infiltrated the building. Phew that was close-" His face fell when he realized. Apparently Krys had also made it there at the same time and judging by the wide eyes on her face that resembled a puppy having been kicked, it was too little too late.
Krys stood there, frozen in place. Watching how intimately Aiko and Allen seemed to speak. Normally she wouldn't be bothered by people sharing such exchanges (so she couldn't experience them, so what?) but in this moment, for the first time, she was incredibly bothered. Had she been replaced? Was Aiko his new Krys? She didn't like that one bit. She was Krys. If Aiko was Krys that wouldn't make any sense. She was Aiko! And why? All because she could go out in the field, and be whatever normal was, and because he could rest his hand on her shoulder like that? Her chest felt tight, it was almost painful to breathe but she pushed through and once Aiko was out of sight and Allen was looking her way she was ready to go... whatever that meant.
"Krys decided to come to Allen Watts' party." She stated the obvious, having tunnel vision and only seeing the man before her. She wasn't sure she liked what she saw. Slowly the pieces were coming together though she hadn't yet registered that he was inebriated. "Is this where we will have our lunch today?" A creature of habit, she couldn't help herself. At this hour was normally when they would eat lunch together. She found that she liked it. Even overstimulated, nervous, and cross she came back to that north star of a habit. Not waiting for a response she decided the answer was yes and began to pull two chairs to a raised table setting it up for them.
"Oh, Merlin. Please don't eat lunch here." Phil murmured to Allen and to Allen only before shrugging weakly. "I don't have a food permit... technically I'm not even sure that I have a liquor license."
The commotion didn’t immediately register with Allen. It was a bar. Commotions happened. Especially in Phil’s bar. It was none of his concern until he vaguely heard his name being called. Was that ‘Allen’? Or ‘allez’? Was there a French quidditch fan in there somewhere? He shrugged, eyes traveling downward to the stained woodwork of the bar. What do you do with a drunken wizard, what do you do with a drunken wizard, what do you do with a drunken wizard early in the morning? He chuckled to himself. It was pained. Forced.
But the commotion had been relevant to him. Infinitely more relevant than he realized. Did he look.. panicked? That was very unlike Phil. Phil never took anything seriously. It would’ve been enough to sober Allen up if biochemistry worked in such a way. But alas, it did not. “G-gremlins? Phil what the hell are you….” His jaw went slack. His ears heating up from shame. Gremlins? Oh no. Gremlin. My gremlin. He turned his right shoulder, looking over it, seeing her standing there, in that dress and pullover. She looks.. wow. So wow. He was too drunk for this. Too drunk for her to see him like this. His first instinct was to run. To apparate as far away as he could to save them both. But he couldn’t do that. That would kill her. More than him being drunk? Debatable. But he was already drunk. Compounding wrongdoings made no sense, even to a man currently off his rocker.
Do I..buy her a drink? A bad idea. He knew that. Why was he even asking himself that? Had he no sense at all? He slumped his shoulders, leaning back on his stool, and turned to face her fully. “Krys. Hey. I-” He was loud. Too loud. He was breathing heavily. Too heavily. It was all too obvious. He had to fight it so she couldn’t see it. So she couldn’t feel it. So she couldn’t hear it. He could’ve made the argument that the internal struggle of conquering drunkenness was his greatest battle. He wouldn’t have been wrong. “-Uh yes. Yes this is where we’re gonna be eating.” His speech was slurred and languid. Casual. More casual than he was used to using with her. He gave a look to Phil that portrayed fear. Not the kind of fear that one gets when they’re unsure if they pulled the meat out of the freezer to defrost. The kind of fear that comes with being on the brink of committing irreversible damage to one’s life. The kind of fear that keeps one up not just for one night, hoping for a brighter tomorrow, but rather haunts one until death absolves them of the sin.
“Phil I.. if we could just..” He was trying to think so hard. For a way out, to make it all better. He then dug the heels of his hands into both eyes, as if that’d be some magical cure for his current affliction. When she departed to gather chairs, he whispered back to him. “Why am I not surprised? It’s okay. I can do this. It’ll be alright.” Was he saying it for Phil’s sake? He stood up from his stool, stilling himself against the bar. He felt the weight of his form through the soles of his feet. He was heavy then. He turned, seeing her sitting at a high table, looking at him expectantly. I let her down. And she doesn’t even know it yet. He walked over, selling sobriety as well as one could, and sat in the chair. He braced. He didn’t know what she’d say. How she’d react. Predictable people were often unpredictable when uncomfortable, he had learned. “I’m surprised you’re here Krys. I know bars aren’t really a preferred locale for you. You must really be hungry.” Don’t ask if I’m drunk. Please.
He was loud. Very loud. Then again, so was this whole place. Something she was only wising up to now as more of the pieces milling around her started to register. Her hands instinctively moved to her ears covering them for a moment in an attempt to stabilize herself. Not caring how she may have looked, if it worked it worked and it did... at least for a little bit.
"Do not lean Mister Watts." She couldn't help but kick into her usual line when she caught how he leaned against the bar even from where he sat on the stool. Her hands still remained over her ears though they were lightening up on their push as she adjusted. They only fully lowered when he confirmed that this is where they would be having one of their lunches. A lie, sure. But Krys wasn't good at picking up on those yet until it was far too late. "Alright. We will eat here then." She agreed to his terms, accepting his confirmation (flimsy as it was) as gospel immediately busying herself with setting the chairs properly, weeding through folks occasionally bumping into them and not apologizing. She was on a mission and wouldn't be aware of anyone else until they were seated with food. Soup if it was to be a proper Krys and Allen lunch.
"My guy, this is such a bad idea... And I'm the King of bad ideas..." Phil warned before his eyes rolled upward and he thought... not something he did often. "Does that make you my prince?" Sweet. "All hail." He patted Allen's back and returned back behind the bar. He wanted absolutely no part in the mess that this was about to be. He hated cleaning up as is. He would make Maddox do it if he was even in today. Man, he really should make a schedule.
Krys sat there waiting for Allen to join her. In the meantime her hands balled into fists on her thighs, brown eyes burning holes into them because she didn't want to look up. If she looked up and Allen wasn't there, all she would see is people, so many people, and drinks, so many drinks and that would work her up. It would be too much. She would - Allen. Thank god (not that Krys believed in him).
"We have lunch at 2:25 PM every d-d-day. I am less preoccupied with location these days as long as we have l-l-lunch." She admitted, unable to shake the slight stammer that was creeping back into her even with Allen this location had thrown her for several loops and she was regrouping. Now on a certain train of thought she fished her hand into her dress pocket and retrieved the can of soup she had purchased holding it out for Allen to take. "I purchased this for Allen Watts. Why I do not know." She was very forthcoming with this it had not dawned on her she wanted to make him feel better because he looked upset in the hallway earlier. "You do not have to pay me back." You could also just say it's a gift. That was probably the better way of presenting it. Oh well.
Do not lean, Mr. Watts. Mr. Watts. Again. Not great. He didn’t like that. Was that a backslide? Or was it an accident? His influenced mind couldn’t bring him to see reason. He assumed the worst, in that she was unpleased. He would have to bring her back into the fold somehow. “Sorry Krys.. I won’t lean. Sorry.” Why had she been averse to leaning? Allen didn’t want to think about it. It likely had to do with something that happened when she was a child. The last thing he needed was to break down in tears in front of her. Who knows how’d she react? He waved Phil and his ‘royal antics’ off. He couldn’t let Phil distract him now. He needed to be rigid. And focused. And.. what was that sound? Was that Don’t Stop Believin’? That was a great song.
When he sat, he observed her closely. She looked tense. Liked she was in a conflict currently. And knowing Krys, that’s likely exactly what was going on. What the hell was he thinking? The cacophony and flood of people were enough to put anybody on edge, let alone Krys. “I’m sorry Krys..” He wasn’t sure if that was to be directed at Krys or himself. Maybe both. This whole situation felt wrong.
He palmed the can of soup. Pound for pound, given the circumstances, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him in his entire life. A can of Campbell’s soup. He could've broken down right there into a sobbing mess. What the hell was he doing? Yes - the situation from earlier today was awful. No one should have to go through it. But he had everything he needed to recover right in front of him. It wasn’t the liquor. It wasn’t the sulking. It was Krys. She was the antidote to his sadness. She was a silly goose. And silly geese were the best. But tell that to the addiction. “Thank you, Krys. That’s very kind and very nice of you. I love Campbell’s soup.” Despite him always making his own.
“You’re right. 2:25 PM Every day. I don’t know how that slipped my mind, sorry, I was eating with Aiko a-” Aiko. Lunch. Eating. Oh no. The cat was out of the bag. He exhaled heavily, hot heavy air wafting over to Krys. It reeked of bourbon. He reeked of bourbon. And now he was guilty of a cardinal sin - breaking her routine. “I’m sorry I - she was just really sad and I -” He tried to stand from the chair, stumbling, and knocking it over. “Sorry.. I’m.. sorry.” What was happening? What was he doing? The room was spinning. He stumbled again, trying to pick up the chair. Now he was the one that was overwhelmed. He was making mistake after mistake. The whole ‘selling sobriety’ thing wasn’t really working out too well.
"You are saying sorry quite a bit." Even for the usually oblivious to most social cues Krys Robin the amount of times the man had said it stuck out to here. If you say something a lot something is going on, right? That or you had a very limited vocabulary. She knew from experience that Allen Watts did not. So something must be going on. And that something was revealed by Allen (by accident) and it was like she was hit by a freight train.
Aiko? He was eating with Aiko? At first she couldn't make words, which was odd for her because she had so many ready to go at all times. "B-B-But..." It was like a system rebooting and she was currently having a tough go of it. "You do not eat lunch with A-A-Aiko you eat lunch with m-m-me..." Such a simple thing that many did, seemed unfathomable. In her lap she felt her hands begin to squeeze into fists balling up the material of her dress within their grasp. "E-E-Every day at 2:25 PM w-we have s-s-soup and w-w-we talk and..." She couldn't even finish the sentence. She couldn't wrap her head around it. Eyes widening she quickly looked down at her lap her shoulders rose and fell at an increasing pace. It was becoming more difficult to speak, breathe... function!
Don't Stop Believing started booming over the jukebox and a few drunken patrons started singing along with the chorus (and bumbling through the verses) but this was completely lost on Krys. Her mind was focused on one thing and she couldn't let it go. Like a fly in a trap she was stuck. Her hands began to wring one another as her gaze darted around the room before the thud of the chair hitting wood caused her attention to focus back on Allen. Phil also was looking their way at the sound with big eyes knowing full well that this was going south FAST.
The smell on his breath instantly took her back to another time. A time she didn't want to be. A time of curses that cut the skin of her back and the bottoms of her feet that she then had to stand on and if she fumbled there would be more hell to pay. This had her heart racing and instinctively she got to her feet bobbling her own stool and wide eyes aimed at Allen looking fearful she took a step back and away from him. People lost in their own conversations passed in front of her providing a moving barrier, a line between them.
Stuttering. Even Allen, intoxicated as he was noted that. There was no substance in the world that could obscure that from him. But even though he knew it was a problem - one that needed addressing and fast - he could do little about it. The whiskey was a cruel temptress. It stroked his face, and told him it loved him. And whenever he realized he couldn’t do it anymore, it apologized, begged for forgiveness and he gave in. Even now he was drowning from within. And there were no buoys, or lifeguards there to save him. He was petrified.
“Wait Krys no.. it’s not what you think.” Had he been caught in bed with another lover? One would think so. That would’ve been preferable to this. “Aiko is just a friend Krys. She needed me and I.. I wanted to help her. It was a hard day.” He was beginning to sweat. He was hot. His skin felt prickly and tingly, similar how one feels when someone was just starting to exert themselves physically. He hated the sensation, at least when he wasn’t exercising. He loosened his tie. Was it choking him? It felt like it. “I’m sorry I know. I upset you I didn’t mean to.. Merlin I..” At the very least, he was bottoming out. This would be as low as he would go. “I’ll never do it ag-” He hiccuped. “-again. Never. Please.”
Her hands. It was escalating. He was making a mess of everything. He was usual the cleaner, not the culprit. Oh, please make this stop. Somebody, please help me. He felt like he was standing on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Voices like waves. Motion self-explanatory. He was losing her. Then in a moment she was gone. He hadn’t even seen where she went. Like a chameleon in its natural environment. But this was assuredly not her natural environment, as much as anyone could ascertain. “I can’t… I can’t find you.” He whispered. He couldn’t even hear himself.
“Please. Please Krys I’m so sorry.” He shambled forward, zombie-like to where she had last been. He felt around his pockets for the compass. What am I thinking? The compass points to me. And she has it. He couldn’t see her. His heartrate, lethargic from the sedative nature of drink, was beating faster. His body was getting hotter and..colder? More hollow. “Krys! Krys!” He spotted her, moving backwards, people now in between them. He put his arms betwixt the phalanx-like crowdgoers, separating them forcefully like a bouncer. It was rare he got to use his firm build outside the gym. He wished it was under better circumstances. He approached her cautiously. “Krys I can explain.. wait. Just hear me out.” Could she even hear him? He must’ve looked horrid. Like some ill-stricken monster.
His hiccup was the final straw. She knew what this was (in her experience) and what it triggered for her. She shook her head at his protests at first. She opened her mouth to say something back but nothing came out so all she could do was put up her hands in a halt motion which immediately led to her balling them into fists in front of her, moving her fingers against her palms, over and over again in an attempt to override her fight or flight. Right now it was more like flight or flight. Focusing was impossible. Her eyes now darting around unable to settle on any one thing let alone on drunk Allen. Drunk. Allen was drunk. Just like her father. Just like him. But it was Allen! Just like him... Allen! Just. Like. Him.
Allen's words, desperate as they had been, started as deafening and then turned to distant murmurs where she couldn't even make out what he had been saying. In fact, everyone's voices along with the music of juke box mixed together into a low hum that hurt her ears and was somehow deafening. She could only hear that and the hard thumping of her heart against her ribcage so hard that she swore she could feel her bones shake with its force. There's no way that it was scientifically possible right? For a heart to be that big? No. Of course not. And yet, here she was.
When she looked up again she couldn't see him. Just bodies, moving about the bar. Breathing quickening her eyes frantically scanned the crowd. Where did he go? Where was she? Where was the door? "H-H-Help..." Her meek voice escaped her lips unheard by anyone. Blinking rapidly she willed her brain to function again. To know what to do and where to go. It never did. Her hands felt at her dress pockets (thank you Ava who knew Krys' tendency to tote things around or pick them up) to reach for her compass, a habit she had, only to have her hand grabbed by one of her coworkers.
"Well, if it isn't Robin. Find your way out of the lab finally?" Jake, one of the field agents, clearly inebriated pulled her to the bar. "Welcome, Robin. Welcome to the party. It's my birthday don't you know. Birthday shots. Robin's doing one with us." A few cheers from unknowing drunk coworkers and other patrons. Krys opened her mouth to argue. No sound came. Shots were poured and handed out. Everyone did one. She did not. Holding it out for Jake to take he shook his head laughing. "Nah it's all yours. Go on."
She shook her head.
"Go ahead. My treat."
"Hey. What are you all doing?" Phil asked from behind the bar on the far end. This didn't look good. He began to walk cautiously toward the commotion.
"N-N-No thank you." Another head shake. Allen would have been proud of her manners there.
"C'mon. It's his birthday and he paid for it. Do it!"
"The gremlin said no."
"Do it!"
"Do it!"
"Knock it off."
"I-I-I'm alright. N-No-No thank you." She moved to step away when two members of the group took her arms holding her in place. Eyes bulging she went into panic mode fighting against them. "N-N-No. N-N-No thank you. I don't want it." Didn't Allen say people appreciated good manners? Jake picked up the drink and brought it to her mouth. "N-N-No. That's alright. P-P-Please.. N-No." She clamped her mouth shut only to have them tap it open thinking it was a big joke. Down the hatch the tequila went and it burnt instantly. Tears welled up in her eyes as Jake's friend Eric tossed another one down her hatch with a gleeful "Sequel!"
Eric was met by Phil grabbing him by the neck, using his years of professional Quidditch beater strength, to hold him against the wall. Eyes narrowed, pissed as hell. "The lady said no dude."
She was gone. In an instant, again. Allen was alone in a sea of people. He was calm. Allen stay calm. Allen stay calm. Allen stay calm. He caused this. Why had he caused this? Did he like pain? Destruction? Was he the worst person he knew? Was he any better than the better he family he had so desperately tried to save her from nearly two decades ago? Or was he something worse? Because he knew what she had been through. He built up a trust that did not come easily. And in on fell swoop, atomized it all. Dust, or more like ashes, blown away in a wind made of his hot, ragged, alcoholic breath.
He wanted to ball up on the bar floor and sleep forever. Would Phil allow that? No. But if you paid Phil enough though, there’s no telling what he’d allow. Save her. The floor was dark and stained. Almost slick looking. Anything but comfortable, surely. Save her. There were people were laughing. At him? Phil must’ve said something funny. Save us. He was a marionette - clumsily moving one foot in front of the other to her last known location. “Krys..” She was definitely not there. Keep looking. He looked right. There sat Ryan and Edmonton. Not who he was looking for. He looked straight ahead. A clearing. He could see the front door. But not Krys. No leaving. Not without Krys, the primary directive. He looked to his left - noticed whoops and yells. Celebratory. He thought he could make out the name ‘Robin’ among the noise. It was the best lead he had. He approached, knifing through bodies to reach the bar. He saw her! But.. what was happening? What were they doing? Wh-
“You left us alone.” “Lincoln.. Lincoln I-” “You said you would come back. And you just left. You like, never visited.” “I’m sorry.. I.. I’m sorry.” “Stop saying sorry Allen. Just do what you say you’re going to do. If you say you’re always going to be there for me and Ava, then always be there for me and Ava.”
“How do you feel when you drink?” “Hollow.” “And is that a positive, or a negative feeling?” “It’s nothing. It’s a void. I imagine it’s what death feels like.” “So Allen, is it death that you’re seeking?” “No I..I don’t think so.” “Then let’s try and reorient to life - who are some people you’re thankful for?” “Krys, Lincoln, Ava.”
“Are you out of your mind Allen? You almost lost your career over some little girl. You could’ve just followed protocol like everyone else, an-” “And what? Let her be tortured in her own home, by her own parents?” “That’s not what I’m saying.” “That’s exactly what you’re saying. You’re a coward Burke. I’ll rather be an auror lost to the annals of time in having tried to accomplish what I did today, than be forever remembered as an auror like you.”
Save her.
Every triggered memory was a chemical in a beaker, mixed together, bubbling and surging. The boom came when Eric forced what Allen would later learn was the second shot down her throat. The room went silent, at least to Allen. The only auditory sensation, a piercing ringing in his ears. Everything was in slow motion. He didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, or some other natural bodily response. He didn’t think. He saw Krys panicked. She had ingested poison. He saw Jake, frantic, hanging on Phil’s free arm, trying to save his friend. And then there was the perpetrator. Eric. An animal caught in a trap. The assaulter of his Krys. Oh poor Eric. He strode up to the commotion with a surprising level of agility given his current state. He loaded his back foot, placing as much weight on it as he could. His his torso twisted, right hand raising simultaneously. He brought his left hand to his face, instinctual in combat. His shoulder loaded the potential energy from his backfoot.. and launched. His powerful core torqued, and his right arm raced forward, a hard first begging for him to find purchase. It connected with the left side of Eric’s jaw. There was a sickening crunch, audible over the immediate noise. Eric stopped struggling. His eyes were closed, his body slumped in Phil’s grasp. Is he breathing? Jake stopped struggling, saucer-like eyes trained on Allen. “I’ll save you, Krys.” He moved towards Jake quickly. He was halfway done.
Choking back a cry she brought her right hand to her mouth, trembling, wiping at her face where she could feel some of the liquor that hadn't made its way into her gullet remain quickly wiping it away as if it would burn her face from being there so long. The commotion behind her lost as she tried to gather her thoughts and will her panicking heart to slow down or else she would have an attack. There was alcohol inside her. Oh god, there was alcohol inside of her. Her whole body, and not just her throat, felt like she was burning. Could she make herself vomit? That helped when you ingested things that you weren't supposed to but the thought of hurting her body scared her. Making yourself throw up was another form of losing control and she knew she couldn't do it. No. No. She had to just let it be in her body and holy shit was she scared.
Looking back up, mouth open in fear she watched as Allen barricaded through the crowd. There was something about the look in his eyes, the anger... even though he was defending her it scared her. Even more so when he threw a punch and the man went limp. Stunned she couldn't look away, her hands pulled at the collar of her dress as if it was choking her when really she was freaking out.
"Mister Wa-Wa-Watts!" She called out but he had tunnel vision and couldn't hear her. "S-S-Stop. S-St-Stop it! S-Stop!" In her mind with its complicated workings she couldn't understand that sometimes a punch was needed. Hurt was needed for okay to exist after.
Phil had now released the unconscious Eric and was getting in Allen's way before he could reach Jake. This was for his own good and luckily Phil was big enough to hold his own. "Cool it!" He pushed Allen back and would push him back every time he approached. "Trust me this is for your own good. Cool it man!" This time when Allen approached he grappled him to the ground where both men fought.
Save him.
"Stop... P-Please... T-Thank you. Pl-Please?" She once again struggled with the terminology trying to figure out which one would work when it looked like neither would. "Stop it!" Someone reached for her shoulder, trying to help and pull her back but the unrequested touch set her off.
Save him.
Her wand was raised instantly and she turned to face the man with eyes narrowed... she almost looked scary.
"Get her out of here!" Shouted one of the new barbacks who didn't know any better and security moved to Krys putting their arms around her like a jetpack and lifting her into the air and stepping backwards to the door her wand thrown out of her hand.
"N-N-No... L-L-Let go." She struggled, she kicked, and absolutely lost it. There was something primal about how she grabbed at the man's arm trying to pry herself free, how she cried out, like she was a helpless kid all over again. "Let-let me go! Let me go!" Seeing Allen on the floor still wrestling with Phil she reached out as if she could reach him (she couldn't). "H-He-help... Help..." He didn't hear her. "M-Mister Watts..." He still didn't hear her. "M-Mister Allen Watts.." Nothing.
Save him.
Both hands grabbing at the man's upper arm she yelled at the top of her lungs. "ALLEN!" The whole bar went quiet.
"Hey!" Phil looked their way and released Allen, quickly rolling into a standing position and pointing at the bouncer. "Put her down. NOW." Phil's eyes locked on security hoping he would listen before Allen got up and dished out more justice. "Trust me, this is as much for your health as anything else."
The security guard slowly put her back on the floor and almost immediately Krys crumpled into a ball, hugging her legs to herself and rocking, crying, shaking. A ball of nerves and fear. Broken.
He felt Phil’s hands, once. Twice. Three times before registering he existed. Allen couldn’t tell if he was stumbling, or hitting an object, he was so fixated on getting to Jake - but it had been Phil acting as a physical deterrent. Allen felt Phil place his head to his ribs, his right arm around the other side of Allen’s ribcage, left hand firmly grasped around Allen’s wrist for leverage. Thud. They were on the ground. Phil wasn’t on top of him. A weight was. Jake stood for a moment. He and Allen never broke eye contact despite Allen being in a full-on grapple fest. Was he smiling? “Phil he’s smiling. Phil, he thinks this is funny. HE THINKS THIS IS FUNNY.” His biceps strained against the might of the larger man, veins pressing against his skin threatening to burst. His muscles had never worked this hard in his life. And he used them frequently. He could feel his arms come free for a moment, then get repinned. “Phil, please… I have to save her please.. let me save her.” Then Jake skittered away like a roach, abandoning Eric. Happy Birthday to Jake. He was left struggling on a stinking, beer-soaked floor, sweat and musk mixing with Phil’s. Not exactly how he wanted to spend his day.
His name cut through the bar like a cleaver. Like he was some sort of sleeper agent. He thought he had been activated before, with her being in distress. That was the prologue. The meat of it was now. It was as if at least 3 drinks were flushed from his system. The room was no longer spinning. The sounds, few as they may be at that moment, were clearer. His fist felt sore. Phil was no longer restraining him. He had been foolish. Krys had been the prime directive, and he had failed again. He had been failing a lot lately. He didn’t mind failure when the stakes were low. But with Krys, the stakes were never low. Failure was not an option. And yet here he was. No better than her father. No better than his father. Allen couldn’t save everyone? He couldn’t save anyone. But now violence wasn’t the mission. It was getting her the fuck out of there, begging for forgiveness, and spending the rest of his life making it up to her somehow. He would eat soup every weekday with her at 2:25 PM if she would have him, even if the damned building was burning down.
He jumped up from his sitting position. Quickly scanning the room. All eyes pointed to a spot near the front door. A small woman, with beautiful brown hair, sat defeated. Regressed to who she once was, but was supposed to no longer be. Oh, Krys. He patted Phil on the shoulder. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for.. all of this.” He grabbed a handful of mints from the bar and shoved them in his mouth chomping them all. He jogged up to Krys - it was worse than he thought. Even ‘hysterical’ seemed to come up short as a descriptor. “Oh, Krys. I’m so sorry.” He knelt beside her, collecting her wand in his back pocket while doing so. There were rows and rows of eyes fixed on them, and it seemed so dark in the bar, outside of those two. In fact, it was just those two. All the eyes were stars in a night sky. Unfamiliar constellations. And Allen was done stargazing. He reached out to her, and she clung to him, just like all of those years ago. His grip was tight. But not as tight as Phil’s thankfully. “Can you get the door please?” The security guard obliged, opening the door hastily. “Thank you.” He trudged off, Krys a part of his form.
He looked around. There were plenty of people about. More eyes. He supposed he could apparate with her. She was holding on tight enough. Where would they go though? In the middle of the day? He shook his head. Like any of that mattered now. He held her up with one arm and equipped his wand in the other. And off they went.
Allen’s apartment wasn’t particularly noteworthy, and the room they stood in had a queen-sized bed, as well as a dresser and a simple mirror. At least it was clean. He removed her wand, and placed it on the dresser, before he sat on the edge of the bed, his little koala clung to him tightly still. He said nothing. He hadn’t deserved to. She would speak or act when she was ready.
Everyone other than Allen had fallen quiet in the bar. She wouldn't have heard them anyway between her loud sobs, choked out cries of misery, and the way her body didn't stop shaking and jerking lightly when she felt unable to breathe. She loathed feeling like this but in some ways it was the most consistent thing in her life other than Allen. Just like Allen would always be there so would this feeling of sorrow and dread. The knowledge that you were too messed up to exist. That you were broken just like the vase in Ava's office when Allen had brought her to reconnect with his sister a few months ago when they started working together. The realization that you would always be you no matter what you did and that you only ruined things. Things were worse off for people, more inconvenient because you were you.
"Yeah, man. Yeah, sure..." Phil responded out of breath and in a daze. It was his own bar and even he was too scared to move a muscle out of fear of disrupting the two and causing more havoc. Shaking his head and murmuring a curse word under his breath as he watched his friend, a man in his forties, grovel at a sobbing twenty something year old. Maybe this was more of a something than he previously joked about during other hangout sessions that didn't involve near murder and assault... normally.
Without second though, despite the fact that it had been two decades since she really touched anyone, her hands went to his back hanging on for dear life, clutching and pulling before her arms draped around his neck. Her face was buried in his chest hiding from the world, tears staining his shirt and mixing some with the blood. It was like she was a kid all over again. Scared, alone, lost... and the only person who could help was Allen Watts. Even outside she didn't even look up, still clinging even as she felt the strong winds of apparition surround her. They were somewhere else, somewhere quieter, she knew that but even so she didn't feel the need to look up (odd given her inquisitive mind) so she just stayed there in his arms, wrapped around him like she was as much apart of his attire as his blazer.
After a painfully long, yet oddly peaceful ten minutes (other than her labored breathing and trembles) she looked up, still struggling to breathe but mustering through. "Y-You must not do that a-again Allen Watts." She sniffled, eyes glaring, this as much of a version of yelling as she could muster. In reality it was more pathetic than anything. "A-Any of it. Ok?" The day drinking, the drinking at all, the drinking in excess, the skipping their lunch, the making her go to the bar (even though that was her choice), the hitting, the hurting... "Okay?! Thank you. You're welcome." She hid her face in his chest again. Well... ok, she was maybe still learning how those sayings worked.
Looking back at him her breathing became a bit more squeaky, like her body was wearing tired but also that she couldn't get it under control. "I-I-It hurts to b-br-breathe..." She admitted. It wasn't because of anything other than how fast the rate was for a prolonged period of time. Eyes watery they finally stilled locking on his gaze, desperate to be heard... begging. "Please don't do that again Allen..." This time she got it right.
Allen was torn. Part of him felt absolutely revolting for what he had done today. Not necessarily for punching the lights out of Eric for what he had done - he would’ve had half a mind to do that sober anyway. That was coercion and assault as far as he was concerned. But what revolted him was that Krys should’ve never been in the situation anyway. He understood he had a rough day. Everyone has rough days. But the last thing he needed to do was rope other people into his misery when it struck. Especially people like Krys, who deserved to be completely misery-averse. On the other hand, perhaps selfishly, he was holding her. And she clung to him so tightly. And he couldn’t not smile. It wasn’t how he wanted to have it happen, but it was happening nonetheless. Who was he to fight the universe? He was finally protecting her how he intended to.
He felt her chest rise and fall, hitching every so often. He knew it was a time thing as opposed to an ‘I’ll fix this’ sort of thing. He rubbed small circles on her back with his right hand and closed his eyes. The world had often been so loud and cruel. Maybe that’s what it was - Krys quieted all of that noise, and simplified all the complexities. He rested his head in the crook of her neck and waited. Waited for her to recover as best she could.
After 10 minutes or so, he felt her head raise from his chest. He removed his head from her neck simultaneously, eyeing her cautiously. He was fearing for the second time that day. And he did not like it. But he would accept it. I must not do it again.Is.. is she forgiving me?Is she giving me a second chance? He nodded quickly, like a child being chastised by a stern adult, grateful for the outcome of this. “Of course. Of course Krys. I’ll never do any of it again. I promise you. Thank you, you’re welcome.” He buried his face in her neck again when she put hers in his chest. Tears threatened to run, but she could never see his tears. He had to bottle it up, and shelf it. He’d save it for Dr. Constantine.
She picked her head up again to look at him, and he did the same in return. His meek smile dwindled as she stated she was in pain. He hated seeing her in pain. “I’m sorry that you’re in pain Krys. It should go away soon. If we just calm down, and relax together.” His breath felt cold, what was originally bourbon-tinged air being overwritten by a dozen bar mints.
“Krys Robin, I will never do that again. Never. I promise you. Any of it. I won’t abandon you for lunch, or have lunch with anybody else. I won’t hit anybody,. and I..I won’t drink ever again. For the rest of my life. I don’t like who I become when I drink.” Sitting here on this bed. He looked at her, taking her whole face in. She looked so distraught. So scared. So unsure. His skin felt prickly with shame. His left hand raised to stroke the back of her head but he thought better of it. He didn’t want to push his luck. He had done that enough today. “I’ll have to hang out with Phil in other ways. Though perhaps after today, maybe he doesn’t want to see me anymore. That’d be understandable.” He gently swayed back and forth, now reconciling with some of what was to come. Burke would catch wind soon. And as much as Burke bothered Allen, he would be more than justified to reprimand him given what had transpired. He'd have more than enough evidence, and witnesses.
He looked around the room. It was very quiet. One could’ve heard a pin drop. “Hey. Would you like to take a nap? I- you can sleep here, and I’ll go make some soup that you can have when you wake up. Mushroom, no wine. I’ll be twenty feet away. I even have a big body pillow in the closet that you can hug while you sleep if you require it.” He motioned with his head over to the shut closet door.
Fingertips clung to the fabric that was the back of his shirt, not enough to hurt the flesh there but firmly enough to show that she wasn't even close to letting go. That she held on for dear life because he was life itself. He was her protector now and he had been her protector always even if sometimes things didn't work out the way that they wanted. It worked out the way that it worked out and they would always be there, together, one way or another. His arms wrapped around her, soft yet tightly, providing her with a safe barrier that kept the rest of the world out and the two of them in and away from harm.
How long had it been since she had been held like this? It happened so few times during her miserable and very complicated life that one would think that she would have no problem remembering and yet she didn't. Though if one had to wager a guess it was probably when she was very small, when he had first found her, both of them much younger than they were now. She had held onto him the entire evening, no one could pull her away until sometime during the late morning hours when she had finally fallen asleep in his hold, one little hand wrapped around his shoulders and the other holding onto the shirt on his chest like he was her human teddy bear. A lot had changed since then, and a lot hadn't, even now one of her hands grasped at his chest the same way it had many moons ago.
He promised he wouldn't do it, any of it, ever again. Though he didn't specify she took it to mean that he understood and she too was nodding quickly in agreement before hiding her face back in his chest. Still, her koala cling grip was in full effect.
The small circles on her back helped to slow her frenetic breathing which, after a minute or so, each inhale and exhale matched the speed of the rubbing like he was winding a toy. Slowly things around her began to fall into place and register. The hand on her back, the light ticking of a nearby clock, the sounds of her breaths, the sounds of *his*, how it felt on the top of her head and the base of her neck, where his chin rested atop her head and how it didn't bother her - quite the opposite.
Looking up again he told her that they needed to relax, to calm down, and she nodded once more. He was right. She was all of the time about science, and tech, and geography, and math... but this was one of the things that Allen understood more than she ever could. He was always the most right about those niche things. Relax. Verb. To make or become less tense or anxious. This was helping. Allen was helping more.
Looking up after his ramble she frowned not fully understanding. "I like you all of the time but less when you do." She admitted. She probably shouldn't have said it that way but she probably shouldn't do a lot of things. "I like nice Allen. The one who does not wobble when he walks." As if that was significant enough she once again hid her face back in his chest. Breathing was becoming easier but she wasn't out of the woods yet.
He smells nice. She found her brain trying to recalibrate. Like pine and tobacco. But he doesn't smoke. Must be cologne... Or maybe that awful place we were just at. It is ok now though. The smell is ok as long as it's on him. Her eyes, teary, opened and began to count the wrinkles in his shirt. There were very few and any that existed she assumed were all her fault. One... two.... three... He has stripes on his tie. Better count those... One... two... three... In her head she counted on until it slowly became out loud. "Twelve... thirteen... fourteen..." Her fingers were now dancing up each stripe, her eyes following each one like they were climbing ladder rungs.
The gentle sway had her sighing and finally she could breathe normal again. Opening her eyes she tilted her head up to look at Allen but she didn't budge and still held to him. For once she didn't feel the urge to say anything to fill the silence. No rambles, no facts, no explanations, she just looked up at him. Her hero.
A nap? Here? But that would mean... "Please do not leave me again." The last time she took a nap, as a little girl, she woke up without him and back home (if you could even call it that). Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hugged him shaking a bit. "I am not tired." A lie but hey! She had actually managed one! Blame the shots now beginning to have their effect. "It is not even night out." She chided him, still hiding in his shoulder. When she finally peered back out her gaze looked different somehow, some folks called them beer goggles with Krys it was two first shots goggles. "You can not trick me Allen Watts. I am smarter than you. I am smarter than everybody in the ways that count- Oh!" She cut herself off when the new sensation of intoxication rolled through her body. Her body felt heavy, she felt warm, her head light. Blinking, fear in her eyes, she looked at Allen pathetically. "I do not like this..."
Krys’s touch on Allen’s skin felt different than he had remembered. It was rare that it had ever happened in the first place, but that only meant that when it did, Allen was acutely aware of all of the sensations that came with it. The first time she had ever clung to him, he felt like a savior. A good person, who was doing the right thing in helping get her out of a situation that may have ended up killing her one day. Now the feeling was indescribable. No simile could define what was going on in his mind. An allegory to himself, that he would understand one day, but not that day.
When she gave affirmation to his promise, signaling that she understood and it was internalized (and knowing Krys, it was very much internalized now) he knew that it became real. He would have to live his life as he had just explained it to her. Because she wouldn’t understand if he couldn’t live up to his promise for some unseen extenuating circumstance. There couldn’t be extenuating circumstances. He had committed his betterment to Krys, and he would deliver. She had earned it at least a thousand times over. And it would no doubt make him a better person in the process.
As her breathing slowed, his did too. He wasn’t breathing fast to begin with, but now he almost felt as though he was in stasis. He was holding his comfort. Their touch, he had come to realize, was just as necessary for him as it was for her. Making eye contact with her again, he smiled at her, sharing himself. She likes me all of the time? He didn't recall ever having heard her say those words to him, nor anything similar. He had always assumed she had some sort of affinity for him, sure, but hearing her say it in her own voice was acting as an anesthetic to any emotional woes that ailed him at that moment. The nice Allen. The Allen that walks straight. Okay. I know who I need to be. He realized that maybe this was her telling him that she was scared. Scared of him? Or scared of what he’d done? “..Okay. I like nice Allen too.”And I like Krys who doesn’t cry. Krys who could maybe one day smile and laugh. Crying Krys isn’t bad per se. I just wished she wouldn’t. He listened to her count up whatever she had elected to do so. Maybe it was heartbeats. Maybe the wall clock ticks.
Don’t leave her again. Please don’t leave her again. Allen melted. She was so sweet. Why couldn’t others see it? It wasn’t like Allen was special in any sort of meaningful way. So why was he the only person that was seemingly capable of seeing how absurdly magnificent she was? How could somebody not.. “I’m not going to leave you again. I’ll be right here with you.” He needed to tell her and show her. After today, Allen needed to prove it. He would be there for her whenever she asked him to be. If she needed him in close proximity in her lab (provided she would still have one after today) he would be there. If she wanted to stargaze on a blanket, with 6 feet in between them, he would be there. And if she needed to cling to him, a koala to her tree trunk, he would be there. He wasn’t going anywhere.
He laughed softly at her initial refusals to sleep. “Oh? I would imagine that this would all be very tiring for you. I won’t force you to sleep but it might be good for you to do so. And you don’t have to sleep only at night. Remember the 1995 NASA sleep study? 26 minutes is the ideal nap time, giving you energy equivalent to several cups of coffee.” He made eye contact with her again. He was still smiling. Why was he smiling so much? It was short-lived, however.
“Oh, Krys.. you’ll be okay. I promise.” She looked fearful again. Allen tried not to mirror her expression, but that was easier said than done. He was still relatively tipsy himself. Once again, the gravitas of what he had contributed to was weighing on him and crushing him. “Here just... let’s just stay right here. You’ll be alright. Just look at me, just look at me. I’m right here, and it’ll be okay.” He tried to smile - it was barely noticeable. Who knows how she’d react to this scenario? But he assumed that as long as he was there, it was the most comfort he could provide her during a scary time. He stopped swaying her. Not helpful if one developed the spins. Say something. Keep her mind off of it. “I care about you quite a bit you know that Krys?” He rubbed the patented small circles on her back before continuing. “You’re so smart. So smart. Easily the smartest person I’ve ever met. And you’re honest. I never have to worry about you lying, ever. And you’re so beautiful. You’re one of the most beautiful individuals I’ve ever met. And I love your heterochromia. It’s like I’m looking into two distinct little galaxies whenever I look at you. I get lost in them.” Was he oversharing? He was swaying again. He stopped consciously.
