Remus tried at first to be angry with Sirius for leaving. He told himself that Sirius would come back to Costa Rica shortly, that it wouldn't be a long time he'd be gone, that somebody needed to stay and care for the house, to keep the cobwebs away, to keep things from going back to just the way they were before. He'd sweep the floors and dust the shelves, he'd keep the kitchen tidy and continue going to the cafe in town and the bookstore and sitting on the beach and watching the waves and sleeping in their bed, Sirius's side ever open, ever waiting for the presence of that shaggy black dog...

But it didn't take long for Remus to realize that, instead of keeping things from going back to the way they were before, he was actually making things go back to EXACTLY the way they were before... like they'd been in the year following 31 October, 1981. 

Hadn't he preserved a place as long as he could, alone, already?

How many times had he spent a day on his knees scrubbing the lino floor in the kitchen of the flat in East London? The place had smelled of lemon floor cleaner for months, the fumes so thick that he'd been dizzy coming home.

At least this place didn't have a crippling rent to pay.

He sat, hugging his knees, staring out at an angry sea one day, a few after Sirius had left, rain falling over him in a torrent that ought to have driven him indoors. Instead, Remus simply hung his head and let it fall over him. The happy place that he and Sirius built had become eroded, just like the sand castle that had stood on the shore since Sirius had built it the day before the owl came.

He'd been right, he realized, the secret to the comfortable life they'd build had been the presence of Sirius Black, and without him there, even the sun refused to shine.

Remus sighed, pushed himself up from the sand, and walked resolutely back to the shack. He kicked off the sand covered flipflops on the porch and used a towel to wipe his feet clean before going inside. He shrugged off the leather jacket Sirius had left behind, and hung it up on the back of the chair at the table. Then he went and he changed in the bedroom, drawing his old tweed trousers and jacket from the trunk, his oxford button up, a tie, his loafers with the holes in the soles... He combed his hair for the first time in a while, looking in the mirror at his green eyes staring back, and he shrugged the jacket into place on his shoulders, watching his own fingers sling the tie into place, tightening the windsor knot right up to his chin.

Ah, yes, there's the Remus Lupin that I recognize, he thought. Whoever that fun, bright-patterened shirt wearing faker was, it wasn't me... and I suppose the fates knew that. Probably went about having a good laugh at my expense, rather. He chuckled and shook his head. 

Most things could stay, he decided. They'd be back, he told himself. There was no reason to pack up all the books, to gather all the clothes. No reason to take down the Please Return to Remus Lupin t-shirt flag, or to bring along the records or the leather jacket. He only closed the windows because of the pesky animals that lived in the trees. Didn't need any monkeys working their way into the house and throwing things around while they were gone.

He locked the door and set the protection charms without looking back because he was certain they'd return.

He was sure of it.

He disapparated from just outside of the charms bounds.

International disapparation was something he'd done only a few times - and it was a tedious and exhausting exercise, traveling through assigned disapparation checkpoints. Costa Rica wasn't as strict as other countries, getting on the approval for the pass was simple - within moments he was given his paperwork and sent on his way from San Jose.

San Jose to San Salvador in El Salvador to Merida in Yucatan, Mexico. Merida to Havana, Cuba, and on to Miami, Florida in the United States, where his pass needed to be renewed by MACUSA.

The MACUSA office gave him a bit more trouble, asking questions about why he'd been in Central America, why there was no paperwork of his passing through the States on the way down, and various other nosy questions that set Remus on edge such as - was he traveling alone? what was his permanent residence? why was he needing passage to the United Kingdom? It was a blend of truth and lies that Remus fed them, placating them with answers enough to get the pass approved. It took nearly an entire day, just to get the pass, and then he was on his way again.

Miami, Florida to Atlanta, Georgia, to Washington D.C., and on to New York, where he joined the line for International Disapparation, tucked into the crown of Lady Liberty.

"Papers."

Remus stepped up to the counter where a wizard with a black mustache waited and he handed over his pass he'd been granted in Miami. He stamped the pass and pushed it back to Remus. "Wait over there 'til you're called," he waved to the line across the room. It was late in the evening, the rush over, and Remus was queued to the front quickly, called forward and he took a deep breath, stepping forward and disapparating - a series of five CRACKS! - with brief pauses between to hurry from one point to another, his knees aching from the strain of the day...

"Welcome to London, mind the gap!" called a tinny voice as Remus emerged in a tiled room full of hoops in the lowest level of King's Cross Station.

Remus walked with a limp by now, his muscles protesting as he moved along, carefully avoiding stepping in the way of any of the hoops in the room until he'd made it across to the door that would lead out to the busy muggle train station. He knew he had to find Sirius somehow - he wasn't sure how - but it was late now and so he reckoned he would find some place to take a rest - perhaps he'd let out a room at the Leaky Cauldron, Tom never was must of one for questions, after all, he could likely get one without even giving his name if he presented Tom with a bit of the gold he had in his coin pouch...

But when he opened the door to the station, he found it didn't open to the station anymore at all, but an office which had a sign upon the wall that read ENTRY TO THE UNITED KINGDOM in big Union-Jack printed letters. A witch with black hair and a grey-and-purple Ministry uniform sat behind a desk, shuffling paperwork and looking quite official.

Remus felt uneasy as he stepped inside.

"Oh hello!" she called, smiling, and waving Remus forward. "Paperwork?"

"I'm - I'm inbound," he stammered. "Paperwork was cared for stateside."

"Not your entry papers," she smiled. "May I see your pass, sir?"

Numb, Remus stepped forward, holding out his pass.

"Ah welcome back to the United Kingdom, Mr.... Lupin," she said, glancing at the name on the pass. She turned to a computer and there was some clicking of keys and she waved her wand over the pass as Remus stood awkwardly on the other side of the desk. "Says here on your pass that your permanent residence is in Costa Rica?"

"Yes m'am."

"It seems we've got you in our system as a resident of York as well?"

He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against the tweed suit coat. "I - I do have a - a residence there."

"Just updating your records," she said.

He nodded. What precisely was on those records? he wondered. 

She looked up suddenly, staring at him for a moment, then turned back to her computer.

"Funny thing, computers, aren't they?" Remus murmured nervously. "A bit of muggle magic, aren't they?"

"Indeed," she said. Her voice was chipper. "If you'll have a seat just there - I'll just be a moment more, nearly finished." She waved her palm at a bank of chairs against the wall a few feet awy.

Remus hesitated, then said, "I am in a bit of a rush, I --"

"Just have a seat, Mr. Lupin, you'll be out of here in no time at all." She smiled.

Remus paced over to the seats and lowered himself uneasily. He had a bad feeling.

He ought to have stayed in Costa Rica.

He was just about to tell the witch never mind, that he changed his mind, that he was going to just -- pop on back home and forget he'd ever even been there in London at all -- when the door of the office swung open.

Chase Volsung didn't look any different than he had the very, very first time Remus Lupin had ever laid eyes upon him. He was still strapping, despite his age, his face more weathered, but still rather good looking - like some sort of viking god with blonde hair and a square jaw. He wore the smart grey suit of an auror, all twenty-eight buttons across his chest done up, and a grin on his face that curved a bit into a sneer of amusement.

Remus felt his face go pale and he stood up, eyes wildly looking back at the door which led back out to the room of hoops, wondering if he could possibly make a run for it before the old werewolf catcher could lay hands on him? If his knees weren't bothering him, he might've done, but as it was... there was not much hope of making it.

"Hullo, Mr. Lupin," Chase said as Remus stood up. His eyes glinted with a mixture of pride and malice. "I have been looking positively everywhere for you."