We Are Not Let Down
The first thing Remus felt was the pain in his left shoulder, throbbing down the length of his arm and, in turn, throughout his entire body. The ache was as dull as his heartbeat, but deep, and he felt like his chest was weighted down - as though a great boulder lay over his heart, crushing him into the ground. Although honestly, he was alright with something holding him down because it felt as though the world was spinning topsy-turvey, one side to the other, like a wild animal bucking against restraints. At any moment, if he were not crushed against the mattress of the bed he lay in by the boulder on his chest, he would certainly go flying up, up, up and off the surface of the world itself, spinning through space.
What if we put a werewolf on the moon?
Without any oxygen? How would he breathe?
Well obviously we'd give him a space suit, we're not monsters.
Sirius's voice echoed through his head.
"Remus?"
His mouth was so dry it was like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't form words to speak. He struggled to open his eyes. The sunlight got in through the cracks in his eyelids, blinding him until they adjusted - slowly - focusing on the form that loomed over him.
Spencer Stewart.
Remus groaned and raised his hand up to block the sun from his eyes.
"He's awake," Spencer said urgently and he looked up at -- Remus's eyes followed Spencer's gaze to Carl, who hovered near by.
Carl's broad shoulders cast a great shadow over the room as he stared at Remus intently, a smile foreshadowed in his eyes that had not yet reached his mouth. When his eyes met Remus's, a seriousness overtook him.
Remus glanced between Carl and Spencer. "How - how bad is my shoulder?"
"You'll be wanting a doctor," Carl answered.
"Do you know where my wand is?"
Carl reached into a pocket of the coat he wore. "It was in Greyback's room." He held it out to Remus, who took hold of it, then struggled to sit up, pushing himself up with his right arm alone, wincing with the pain of the movement. "Careful," Carl said, stepping forward quickly to hold Remus's torn shoulder steady and to help him into the sitting position.
Spencer, too, looked worried. "You shouldn't be moving much until we've gotten your shoulder looked at."
Remus turned his wand over in his hand, looking at it closely to see that it wasn't damaged. He inspected the bulb of the moonstone handle, running his palm over the wood to be sure nothing had been done to it.
The door opened and a familiar face leaned in - the woman that had brought him the bag of food. She was older with greying blonde hair and wide eyes, a strand of pearls about her neck. She knocked on the frame gently to get their attention, then murmured, "How is the Alpha?"
The title sent a shiver through Remus.
"He's awake," Stewie answered, relief clear in his voice.
Relief came over the woman's expression as well and she pushed the rest of the way into the room, a tray clamped to her hip which carried a steaming tea pot, a cup, and a small bowl. She bit her lips with nervousness as she approached, stopping at the foot of the bed, giving a curtsey, of all things, and then offering the tray to Spencer. "I brought tea and a bowl of broth."
"Thank you, Verna," Carl said.
The woman - Verna - nodded, then said, "I made it before the moon - loads of nutrients cooked right in." She stared at Remus. "Replenish your strength."
"Thank you," Remus murmured, flushing at the intensity and emotion in the woman's eyes as she stared at him.
She bowed her head, then scrambled from the room, pulling closed the door behind her.
"In the wise words of someone I know," Spencer said, setting the tray up before Remus, "Eat. You'll feel better." He smiled.
Remus had always been rather ravenous the morning following the full moon night and he didn't need to be told twice to eat. He took up the spoon with his right hand, struggling to angle it properly in his non-dominant fist. Finally, he gave it up and simply lifted the bowl to his mouth, taking a long sip of the thick, rich broth. It tasted of lamb and herbs, with bits of finely chopped vegetables and meat floating in - small enough chunks he hardly had to chew, but the food felt warm and heavy in his stomach, in a good way. The advice was sound - he was feeling better already.
Remus looked up at Carl. "How long have I been out?"
"It's half two," Carl replied.
Remus lowered the bowl onto the tray and swept his wrist over his mouth. He paused in wolfing down his food - puns intended - and looked between Spencer and Carl. "I - I remember bits and pieces of the fight," he said, "Like a strange, half-blurry dream..."
"He ran," Carl supplied, "Fenrir Greyback fought until it was clear that you had him bested and then he ran. He ran and the moment he had done, he forfeited the challenge, effectively giving the pack over to you. Several of us - myself included - went after him during the night and chased him nearly halfway to Manchester, but he - and most of his closest followers - managed to get away. We lost the scent. We got back before sunrise." He paused, eyes moving over Remus. "I am sorry, I have let you down."
"Let me down?"
"For letting him escape," Carl said.
Remus shook his head, "You - you haven't let me down."
"It was my job to see to it that he paid his debt. When the challenge was lost, Greyback owed you his life blood."
Remus shivered, but reassured Carl, "I am not let down."
Carl still looked apprehensive.
Remus bit his lip, lifting the spoon for a second attempt at holding it with his right hand. He studied his fingers wrapping about the handle of it, considering how he might word the question he had. Spencer reached over and helped move his hand about the spoon handle and Remus smiled weakly at his friend. Finally, he looked up at Carl again. "How does this - you know - work?"
"How does what work?"
"The... the Alpha thing?"
"The moment he turned tail from you, he yielded the title to you. You, Remus, are the rightful Alpha leader of the pack now. The allegiance of the members shifted to your command. We answer to you now. It works however you wish for it to work... We work however you wish us to work."
Remus wasn't sure what to say to that. He ate a couple spoonfuls of the broth to fill the moment as Carl and Spencer hovered on either side of him, his heart racing at the thought of being the leader of so many werewolves. Remus had never been a leader - even when Dumbledore had made the horrid mistake of naming him a Prefect at Hogwarts, Remus had never truly been a leader. He'd allowed Sirius and the other Marauders to dictate how things went and Remus had been powerless to stop them.
Which reminded him.
He went to raise his wand but his arm throbbed with the motion - and he quickly stopped, switching hands. The motion was jerky and he had to make it twice and speak the spell aloud before the smoky form of a wolf hovered over the bed at his feet. Carl and Spencer both stared, wide-eyed at the patronus at Remus's feet as Remus himself commanded it, "Go and tell Sirius Black that I am alright, that I am sorry, and that I will be home soon." He paused. He worried for his husband, and he hoped that Sirius would get the message and feel relieved - at least a little bit, perhaps - to know that Remus had survived the challenge. "And tell him that I love him also," he added quickly. Then Remus raised wand again and sending the wolf off, running and jumping through the window before seemingly rushing through the air in a ghost-like manner, sweeping off through the air.
Carl turned to watch it go, peering out the window as the wolf disappeared over the hills surrounding the tower before he turned back to Remus.
"Are your wife and daughter --" Remus asked, the thought of his husband reminding him why Carl had come so passionately to him to begin with, "Are they alright?"
Carl's eyes filled with tears and he nodded, gratefully. "Yes, yes. They are alright. He was distracted by the challenge and didn't harm them. They're safe. Because of you. And there are a great many others who are safe because of you. All of us. This entire pack."
Remus drew a shaking breath, "Hopefully you lot will still believe that my presence is a good thing as we continue on."
Carl said, "The bar is low, Remus. But even if it were not set so low, you would still place well."
"Hopefully I don't let you down."
Carl met Remus's eyes steadily and repeated his own words back to him, "We are not let down."
Remus lay his wand down on the tray and lifted the bowl once again. "Are there any healers in the pack by any chance?" he asked.
"We have a doctor," Carl nodded. "He's gone to get supplies to fix your shoulder."
"Good, good," Remus nodded and he drank the rest of the broth.
The patronus wolf arrived at the flat in East London, slipping in through the window in the bedroom. Sirius lay on the bed, turned back-to the window, limbs wrapped around Remus's pillows, face pressed deep into the down feather one that Remus used most, inhaling his husband's smell. He cast the pillow aside when the patronus appeared, his eyes widening at the shape of it, recognizing that wolf all too well.
"Sirius," the wolf spoke with Remus's voice and he felt a chill go through him. "I am alright. I am sorry. I will be home soon... and I love you."
Sirius asked quickly, "Where is he? Where - where is he? Is he alright?" His voice was rough and low and he scrambled up from the bed, grabbing his wand from the night stand and shoving it through his hair as he slammed his feet into the heavy Doc Marten boots. "Tell him I'm coming, tell him I love him, too. Take me to where he is - show me how to --"
But the wolf was gone before he could ever ask it for directions how to get to Remus.
Sirius's heart sank. "What is soon? When is that? Gods fucking damn it, Moony." His hands shook and he tore the boots back off his feet, casting them onto the floor. His fists balled in frustration and he closed his eyes, tears leaking over the edges of his ducts and across his face in wet streaks of emotion. He swore and punched the beloved pillow in frustration, anger welling up in place of the stress and worry he'd been feeling. His hands were shaking with the release of all that anxious pressure.
"Oh you think you're sorry now, you fucking werewolf bastard, just wait 'til you get home and I give you the what-fucking-for."
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