Shatter || Rossian

Monday, April 18, 1922
Salle d’Admission at Hôpital du Mans, Le Mans, Sarthe
6:04 PM, after this

They heard him before they saw him.

Cassian shouldered his way into the small room, yelling for help. Rosie had woken up briefly while they were still home. It was enough to give him hope that she was hanging on while driving the boy entirely out of his mind.

"Help! Somebody help! She's—she's—HELP!"

He could barely think, barely breathe. All his attention was on getting her to someone who could prevent her from slipping further away. Cass hadn't wasted time. The moment her eyes rolled over, he pulled her close and apparated them as close to the hospital as he dared. Le Mans was only a town over – a small mercy, really – making it easy enough. It removed the need to scramble for a floo the town nearly certainly didn't possess or a chance encounter with either a carriage or one of those fancy automobiles.

If the distance was much further, frazzled as his mind was, he probably would've still risked the trip, but he was glad that he didn't have to.

"Please, you have to help her!" He said as the nurse behind the desk sprang to her feet and hurried to him. She spoke in rapid French, asking questions as she reached out to begin some minor assessment of the girl he carried in his arms.

He understood nearly none of it.

Calmer, with a clearer head, Cassian might have realised that he could understand most of what she said, but his mind was a blank canvas, letting nothing settle but the image of his bleeding wife, hanging limply.

"I don't! I can't understand – what?"

She called for help, rattling off a set of instructions. Within the minute, a trio of nurses burst through the door that led further into the hospital, pushing along with them a gurney. The nurse patted the padded surface, hoping he would at least understand that.

He did, by Merlin and some saving grace, he did.

Cassian set Rosie down carefully. He placed his hand on her forehead, trying not to succumb to the dizziness that accompanied his hyperventilating. "Hang in there; they're gonna help you, just...Rosie...please--"

"Allez! Allez!"

She shooed him from the gurney, exasperated by how uniquely in the way he happened to be in the middle of what was clearly an emergency.

He stepped back seconds before they took off, but when he tried to follow, one of the nurses turned and rattled off things he had no hope of understanding.

The swinging double doors slammed shut, and just like that, he was alone in the sterile admissions room with nothing but the four walls and minimal decor.

---

Tuesday, April 19, 1922
1:30 PM, after this

He hadn't gotten any sleep. Cassian was a shell of himself, living on fumes and anxiety as he approached the desk to speak with the nurse on duty.

The night before was easily one of the hardest he'd ever had to endure. His entire world had come undone at the sight of his wife, clinging to life while their flat lay in a state that spoke to a level of violence he didn't think he'd ever be able to understand. They'd given him some medicine, something to calm the frenzy that made it too difficult for him to be of any real use. Once his mind had cleared, Cass had been able to provide some details and get some back in return.

She was critical, touch and go. They wouldn't have word for him before morning and had made it uncomfortably clear that he wouldn't be able to sit around and wait.

It was a hospital, not a hotel. They didn't have room for a pacing teen who might suddenly grow hysterical again if the medication wore off before more news could come. They didn't like skulkers either. The hospital had visiting hours and weren't particularly keen to entertain anyone outside of them.

The Hôpital du Mans served the region, seeing patients from all the neighbouring towns and then some. His story was tragic, but he wasn't the only sad boy on the verge of losing someone special.

He couldn't go home. Cassian was filled with a sense of deep dread that whoever had attacked would return. It was no longer safe, not in that flat and not in the town of Allonnes. If nothing else, whoever had done it had made that abundantly clear. Rather than fight the current, he chose to swim with it. The hospital and Rosie were out of the question. She was in good hands, and he would have to ensure she remained that way when she got home.

For that reason, he returned to the flat. In a matter of an hour or so, he'd shrunk everything they owned down to size and stuffed it all into his backpack. He got the money they stashed out in the yard by Rosie's garden and was sure to uproot everything while he was there. The boy was thorough, possessed. If he couldn't be with his wife, then he forced himself to focus on getting them somewhere safe.

He'd spent the remainder of the evening looking, checking towns, and asking around until someone finally took pity on the tired boy and spoke on his behalf to a landlord. He assured them he could pay (courtesy of a duplication charm he'd cast). The money wouldn't last forever, but he only needed it to last long enough to get to the bank; then it would be someone else's problem.

It was a chance encounter. At the end of his rope and unsure of how much further he would have to travel, he'd been found by an older gentleman whose cousin owned a building. It had been late, too late for anything beyond basic negotiation, but the morning had seen him closing the deal. There was a lot to get done, but as the time drew closer to visiting hours, he'd dropped everything to return to the hospital.

"Elle a besoin de repos. Tu ne peux pas rester plus de vingt minutes." The nurse explained as she guided him through the ward. She emphasised the time, sharp eyes turning to look at him. She wanted to make sure that after his performance the night before, he'd heard her now and comprehended.

Cassian flushed as he nodded. Twenty minutes, right.

The pair walked into a smaller room. It housed only three beds, all occupied. Rosie's was in the corner by the window. He approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm her.

"...Hey..." he said softly. Cass sank onto the bed, relief pouring over him at the fact she was awake at all. "How're you feeling?"

Tuesday, April 19, 1922
Hôpital du Mans, Le Mans, Sarthe
7:15 AM

"N’essaie pas de te redresser, ma petite."

A gentle but firm hand held the young woman down on the bed as her eyes fluttered open. She moaned softly, having pushed herself to do just that, but the elderly nurse's insistence won over. Rosalie didn't understand where she was or what had happened, the bright lights overhead disorienting the already confused girl.

She squinted and moaned again at the pain that ricocheted across her face with the expression, closing her eyes as the heaviness saw her body sinking back into the mattress beneath it. Shallow, ripping breaths coursed through her chest, as she felt the vague prick of a needle in her arm.

"Dors maintenant."

A heavy hand drifted from her side to her abdomen.

A hoarse, raspy panic took her in the moment before she drifted off again.

---

1:30 PM

She flinched as the smell of antiseptic met her nose, its sting seeping into the laceration on her forehead as the nurse gently dabbed at it. It had been what felt like an endless afternoon of bandage changes and cleanings. Each touch felt like fire, every slight movement of her head resulted in the sensation of bricks being slammed against the side of it.

She still didn't understand what had happened. The nurses had tried to explain she had been attacked, but by who and why remained a mystery. She couldn't remember much other than the walk home from the diner, and even that was fuzzy and broken in pieces within her mind. Did she take a route she'd never had before? Walked down the wrong street? Talked to the wrong people?

She vaguely remembered her head slamming into something. She remembered the taste of blood in her mouth and harsh voices and hands.

A shaky hand rose to her throat, the sensation of glass ripping at her vocal chords every time she tried to make a sound. The skin there was tender to the touch, and though Rosie couldn't see it - nor had she been made aware so as not to terrify her further - there were deep blooming bruises in the shapes of thick fingers.

"Ne touche pas, tu vas te faire mal."

She dropped her hand from her throat, her head lolling slightly to the side to look at the nurse who delicately taped a new bandage over her stitched forehead. Older, around her mother's age with kind eyes and a gentle voice that soothed the girl even in her confusion.

"Ton mari est là, Rosalie. Il était très inquiet. Il sera tellement heureux de te voir réveillé."

She was so tired. While Rosie understood the words in theory, none of it made sense against the fatigue and headache that overwhelmed her.

The nurse stepped away, satisfied with her work, as another figure moved carefully through the room and sat down on her bed. It took her a moment of silent staring before recognition finally took hold. Her face crumpled as her hand brushed along the linens, searching for his, before their fingers intertwined.

"How're you feeling?"

She didn't know how to explain it. It was a level of pain she'd never experienced. She was terrified and confused. She wanted to go home and lay in her warm bed. She didn't want to be here in the cold hospital room with hands fussing over and touching her.

A sound rose from her throat and she grimaced. She raised her hand to her throat again, as though touching it would relieve the ripping and cutting sensation beneath. "Everything hurts," she answered with a strained whisper. "Tired. Want to go home."

Through bloodshot eyes she could see the worry and fear in his expression as he looked her over, and she brushed her thumb lightly over his hand. She managed a small smile even as her jaw radiated with an achiness she hadn't felt before. She was okay, or she would be. She couldn't bear to see that look on his face.

"Our baby?" she asked him. The nurses kept telling her to rest, that she shouldn't worry about anything. From what she could tell, it seemed the worst of her injuries were to her head and throat, but she didn't know if that would make a difference. Maybe they'd told him at least.

She didn't look good, but considering she wasn't even conscious just the day before, Cassian was already counting his blessings. Where there was life, there was hope. His wife was beaten up pretty badly, and there was...a raw rage inside him that had nowhere to go without knowing who did it, but the fact she could utter any words at all was enough to keep him from spiralling again.

They were safe for the moment. Rather than allowing himself to be consumed by useless thoughts of revenge for faceless men who lurked in anonymity, Cassian tried to anchor himself to that hospital room and the girl who needed him more than his pride and anger needed revenge. Now that he'd packed them up and had already moved them, he had to be realistic. What were his odds of running into them again? If she could remember and it turned out they were familiar, what would he do? Go after them? Leave her alone again for something worse to happen?

He shook his head firmly, trying to dispel the unproductive thoughts. Instead, Cassian clung to the scent of antiseptic and the soft feel of her hand that had found his. Mostly, he clung to the strained sound of her voice that reminded him the very worst hadn't happened.

He wasn't standing over a body in a mortuary, lost and wondering what he would do with his life. He wasn't making arrangements and twisting with guilt that he'd spirited her away one summer night just to have her killed.

Breathing was important.

"Everything hurts. Tired. Want to go home."

Cass bet she did.

"I'd take you home in a heartbeat if I could, gorgeous," he said quietly. His guilt was slowly consuming him. He shouldn't have left her alone. He should've been home. Whoever had broken into their flat would've had a harder time doing what they did – he could've stopped them, whatever it would've taken. They wouldn't have laid a finger on Rosie.

But he wasn't there. He was shovelling shit for some pompous farmer who sneered at him as often as he told him he was doing an 'okay job'. "They say you gotta stay here a while longer so they can make sure you're alright and strong enough to not need them hanging around – not long, but...I can't take you home yet."

Speaking of home.

Cassian adjusted his position so he could properly face her.

"We can't go back there. I already packed it all up. I found us a new place. It's...it's nice. I think you'll like it." And if she didn't, they'd find somewhere else, but that tiny flat in Allonnes was no longer an option.

"Our baby?"

He cracked a small smile despite the way it all still hurt. "As strong as his mother. They say there's no bleeding, nothing that worries them." It was as much as they were capable of, but it was better than nothing. Reassuring. They must've told Cassian a million times that there was nothing to worry about and that, if there was, they would've told him already.

"That's one of the reasons they wanna keep you a little longer. They wanna keep an eye on you to make sure everything stays fine with him, too."

He looked absolutely gutted and it was tearing her apart. She didn't know what had happened, but somewhere along the way home she must have been careless or done something wrong. Allones was a rougher town, in the aspect that the majority of the people there were blue-collar and came from working stock. They grew up struggling to make ends meet and never knew a cushy day in their life.

But she'd never felt unsafe. The men here were bold and boisterous. A little handsy at times, but never violent. Not with her or any other woman that she witnessed.

She had to stay a little longer. No real surprise. With how she felt she couldn't imagine what she looked like, and knew they'd want to keep her until they were sure she wasn't going to keel over the moment she tried to stand. She wanted to ask how long. How long until she could find normalcy again? Bake in her kitchen or work in her garden, or lay in her bed curled up with him as they fell asleep?

"We can't go back there. I already packed it all up. I found us a new place. It's...it's nice. I think you'll like it."

She didn't understand. Like so much else that hadn't made sense in the past few hours, this made even less. He'd packed everything up? That quickly, in a panic? Like...

Her expression fell as a new realization came over her. "It happened there, didn't it?" In their home. She'd made it home and someone had attacked her there. In their most private and safe space. A new churning in her stomach made her nauseous and her hand tightened around his. If...if they weren't safe in their own home, where would they be? She looked at him, words flowing through her mind, an echo as her head slammed into the wall.

"They said I wasn't prettier." She didn't know what that meant. Prettier than who? She'd never said she was or implied it that she could remember. It wasn't something she'd ever naturally say to anyone else. It made no sense, zero.

Her head began to pound as she spiraled, sorting through her brain for anything that could pull the pieces together, but there was something more important.

"As strong as his mother. They say there's no bleeding, nothing that worries them."

Her pained smile returned, as a sigh of relief left her lips. She was still pregnant. Her baby wasn't hurt, as far as they could tell. "As resilient as you." It was true. With parents like them - two kids who constantly overcame whatever was thrown at them and held fast together - how could their baby be anything but strong and resilient? A little warrior with curls and a smile that would melt hearts.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, feeling the exhaustion take stronger hold now that she knew their baby was alright. She knew Cassian well, and knew how he coped when his anxieties and anger were stronger than he knew how to handle.

Her question had him furrowing his brows, but it shouldn't have surprised him. Of course, she didn't remember. The nurse had tried to warn him of as much, using all the simple French she could pull for to get the point across. He supposed...he supposed he'd been hoping that she would remember, even just pieces. Without knowing who'd done it or what had happened, it all felt like unfinished work or a task his brain kept going back to, desperately trying to complete it but unable to without the rest of the information.

Rosie not remembering a lot might have been a small blessing. He didn't want those memories sticking with her. At the same time, it set him further back from any ideas of vengeance. It had already felt impossible. The town was small, but not small enough for him to go door to door. Cass also understood the impracticality of taking on however many attackers without knowing what he was signing up for. The factory had made him strong...but not that strong. It was something better forgotten, and now that Rosie had demonstrated her lack of memory...he didn't really have a choice.

"They said I wasn't prettier."

"Prettier than who?" he asked automatically. If she couldn't remember where it happened, it was doubtful she might've remembered such specific detail, but the fact that she'd remembered it at all surely meant something. "Can you remember their faces? Did they say anything else?"

Not prettier? Who were they comparing his wife to, and who were those pricks who had the gall to tell her that?

It hadn't been difficult to convince himself it was a random robbery – despite their lack of wealth – but now, it was beginning to sound personal.

"As resilient as you."

The small smile he'd managed stretched a little wider. The situation wasn't much to smile about, but Cassian managed to find solace in the fact that not only was his wife alive but so was their child. That would've been the nail in the coffin, wouldn't it? House ransacked, wife brutalised, then to be told that the baby he was slowly coming to terms with hadn't made it? It wasn't something he wanted to think about. They were both fine; the rest could be figured out.

"I'm alright," he said, inhaling a small breath. "Just tired. I've been up all night trying to put as much distance between us and Allonnes as possible." He didn't care about the landlord who hadn't been given notice or the farmer who'd been expecting him that morning. The neighbours, the friends they'd made? None of them were worth him going back after he'd packed everything they owned. "They were already gone by the time I got there, if that's what you're worried about. Long gone by the looks of it."

And they hadn't left much of a trace either: just shattered glass, a rust-coloured brick and a bleeding wife.

Generous sods.

"Already have some leads on where we can go looking for work, but don't worry about any of that for now. You just get better." He paused, sparing a glance back out into the corridor as a nurse walked by. "I don't think any amount of sad eyes and kicked puppy looks will convince them to let me stay here with you." They hadn't wanted him in there the night before despite—or, perhaps, in spite of—his panic. Overwhelmed as they were, they didn't hesitate to ensure he knew how in the way he was.

The confusion only caused the pounding in her head to amplify. Try as she might to remember, to figure out what had happened and why, the less clear everything became. She supposed someone else in her place might be thankful to be spared the memories, gruesome as they likely were, but not Rosalie. She wanted desperately to know who they were so if she came across their path again, she'd be prepared.

Rosie didn't like the idea that she had been made into a victim. She was tired of men putting their unwelcome, ill-intentioned hands on her. The next man that tried, she swore she'd...she'd...

She swallowed hard, trying to push the sudden anger that washed over her away.

"Prettier than who? Can you remember their faces? Did they say anything else?"

"I don't know," she answered softly, "All I remember is my head slamming into the wall." She knew there had to have been more that happened, but she was at a loss. Perhaps with time, more would come back to her. Whether that would be welcome or not, she wasn't sure.

"I'm alright. Just tired. I've been up all night trying to put as much distance between us and Allonnes as possible. They were already gone by the time I got there, if that's what you're worried about. Long gone by the looks of it."

Good. That was good. There was comfort in knowing that Cassian hadn't been faced with whoever had done this. As much as she knew her husband would have beat the bloody hell out of them, she hated the idea of him walking into such a situation blind. Moreover, knowing how protective Cassian was of her, she was worried seeing her in such a state while her attackers were still there would have sent him into a blind rage he wouldn't be able to control.

The last thing they needed was attention from the law.

"I'm sorry you're so tired," she said. He looked awful. Exhausted. Stressed. She wished she could help. She wished she had been smarter about whatever this was and had somehow avoided it. She felt like the past several weeks was just a growing snowball of stress on Cassian's shoulders and it wasn't letting up.

"Already have some leads on where we can go looking for work, but don't worry about any of that for now. You just get better."

"Don't worry about that yet," she pleaded with him, tugging on his hand so he'd look at her. "We'll be fine for a little while. Just go home," wherever that was, "and rest. Visit me when you can. When I'm home, we'll look then." She would feel better, less anxious, if she knew he was just resting and settling in at their new place.

Work would always be there. Her husband had a tendency to spiral.

"I don't think any amount of sad eyes and kicked puppy looks will convince them to let me stay here with you."

She forced a smile through the sleepiness that was quickly taking control. "Just stay until they kick you out, okay?" She pulled on his hand to bring him closer. He could lay against the pillows with her for just a little while. The nurses would get over it. "I don't want to fall asleep alone."

---

Saturday, May 6, 1922
76 Rue de Marcheries
Alençon, France
11:30 AM

The bruises had faded and the cut on her forehead was healing well. The burn scars on her face were easily covered with a glamour charm, and her voice had returned to almost normal. Looking in the mirror each morning, it was almost easy to forget the state she'd arrived to their new flat in. Broken, in pain and memories coming back faster and clearer as the days passed, seeing her reflection resemble the girl she'd been before had been a small saving grace.

Six days. Six long days in the hospital in Allones, before she'd been well enough to leave and return to her life. Or what her life was now.

Cassian had found them a beautiful, sweet little flat outside of the city center. Its architecture and design made the building resemble more of a series of French country cottages and she'd immediately fallen in love. It felt lighter than their old place. A fresh start, something that felt more like a home and a place they could bring home a baby. A place where they could leave the bullshit that had been Allones behind and become the little family they wanted to be.

He'd managed to save everything precious. Their photos, the gifts they'd given each other over the years. All their clothing and even some of their furniture. The money they'd hidden.

It was less expensive than their last flat, and with the jobs they'd secured at the textile factory - lace to be exact - they weren't struggling as hard as they had been before. Usine de Dentelle Fine d'Alençon had hired Cassian first floating between machine maintenance and threading. He'd insisted, when Rosie had made mention she might look for restaurant work again, that she come to work with him.

'Insisted' may have been minimizing it. He had all but laid the law down, explaining that after all that had happened, he wouldn't be able to focus on work if he was constantly worrying about her or someone hurting her while he was away.

Rosalie wasn't one to complain, and rather liked the idea of them working together. She had gotten a position doing embroidery detailing - managing the smaller areas that needed to be hand-stitched and couldn't be finished by a machine. It was difficult work, despite her knowledge of needlework thanks to the women in her family. Her hands often cramped halfway through the day, but she soldiered through, enjoying the lunch breaks she and Cassian could share, and that all their walks to and from work were with each other.

Truly, there was very little to complain about these days. Aside from the morning sickness that currently had the poor girl in a chokehold.

The doctor insisted it meant the baby was healthy.

"Cassian!" Rosie called to her husband from the back door, a basket of laundry in her arms fresh from the line. "Mrs. Rousseau is asking if you can come help her with some shelves! She's saying they need to be tightened along the wall and she can't reach." Nudging the door closed with her foot, Rosie smiled as he came around the corner from their bedroom and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Please?" she asked sweetly, as she dropped the basket next to the couch for folding. "You know she doesn't mean any trouble." Their elderly neighbor had wasted no time in taking every advantage of a strong capable young man at her beck and call and Rosie was always eager to offer him up to assist.

"Mrs. Rousseau is asking if you can come help her with some shelves! She's saying they need to be tightened along the wall and she can't reach."

It was always something with that woman, wasn't it? Had Cassian known they'd have had such an...involved neighbour, he might have turned down Mr. Allard on that harrowing night back in April. In many ways, the apartment was a blessing and one of the more affordable ones in the area based on everything he'd heard. It was close enough to work that they could walk and had a little grocery shop on the corner. The city itself was big enough to get lost in without being so big that it overwhelmed the pair who were still working to regain their peace and some level footing.

On paper, it was a good find.

Mrs. Rosseau was the chink in that armour, the proverbial broken gear within the machine. She was sweet enough and had brought over dinner for them for nearly a week after hearing what little they'd shared about Rosie's injuries. Merlin knew the two could spend an entire evening gabbing on either couch. But there was something about the old woman that didn't sit right with him. Cassian couldn't put his finger on it, and the old lady certainly hadn't done anything that would warrant his scepticism, but she gave him a bit of the heebie jeebies with that rouge coloured smile of hers and that subtle shine in the back of her eyes.

On top of that, she never knew when to shut up or when to leave. As often, she didn't know how to let someone else leave once they entered her apartment. Cassian understood loneliness and sympathised with her status as a widow, but sweet baby pygmy puffs, the boy had limits.

He could pretend he hadn't heard. Of course, then Rosie might get on him about what a sweet woman she was, and then she'd still have to go.

With a reluctant sigh, he got up from their bed and headed out, meeting her just beyond the corner.

"Please? You know she doesn't mean any trouble."

"I know, I know," he said, taking a kiss for himself. A cheek wouldn't be sufficient for what he knew he was about to endure.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell her I fell down the main stairs and can't lift, hammer, bolt, wrench, stack or dismantle anything for the next month." Rosie's heart was one of her most endearing qualities. There was a part of him that grew warm when he saw the care she exhibited for their neighbour. It was reminiscent of the tender care he used to watch freely at Hogwarts. It was also nice to see her settling again after everything, losing herself to a bit of mindless gossip that she'd come tell him about after...even if he wasn't sure he strictly needed to know that Marie's husband was beating her senseless every time he lost at dice after work.

Yeah...he was nearly certain he didn't need to be so acquainted with any of his neighbours. Cass wrapped an arm around her to tug her close when she put the laundry basket down. "I've got a better idea than shelves. If we're quiet, she won't even know we're here."

Conveniently stepped out. Shame. She'd have to catch them later.

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell her I fell down the main stairs and can't lift, hammer, bolt, wrench, stack or dismantle anything for the next month."

She hummed as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. Her own fell lazily around his neck, her lips welcoming his for the kiss of encouragement he sought. Cassian was a sweetheart but she knew he didn't exactly enjoy running to the apartment next door to help out their neighbor whenever she asked for it. He was still a teenage boy, preferring to be left to his own devices during his free time, and not be put to work he had no interest in.

Mrs. Rosseau was one of those neighbors who didn't allow for anyone to be a stranger. She knew everything about everyone in the building - even those that chose not to engage her. She was observant and friendly and offered up all the happenings to Rosalie anytime the two sat down for tea or lunch together.

In some ways, Rosie found the company of the older woman comforting. Having gone without her own mum for nearly a year now, having missed Julia so terribly it hurt, being in the presence of someone who could have been her mum or granny and feeling accepted did things for the girl she wasn't ready to admit. Mrs. Rosseau gave her a warm safe place where Rosie could still feel like a kid.

Outside of that, she felt like a woman, trying to hold everything about their world together.

She didn't mind when the woman made requests of them, whether it was grocery shopping or helping with her laundry, or helping to walk her little dog from time to time. Mrs. Rosseau had family, but it wasn't often they came to visit and so Rosie was happy to take up that mantle.

Cassian was obviously more reluctant, though he'd never really said why.

"I've got a better idea than shelves. If we're quiet, she won't even know we're here."

"But I'm so busy," she teased as she drew him back into her kiss, her fingers playing with the baby hairs on his neck. "So much laundry to fold." Another kiss and another as her other hand ran up his chest, settling along his collarbone where fingers brushed along his skin. She smiled, nipping at his bottom lip.

"Tell you what," she murmured, feeling the way his heart was starting to pick up speed. "Take me out tonight, and I'll tell her anything you want." The hand at his collarbone slinked up along his neck, catching the other that was already there.

"Or...you can have this now," her eyes twinkled at him, "and then you have to go help her." In the meantime, the laundry could wait.

"But I'm so busy."

He could see that.

"So much laundry to fold."

An entire mountain of clean clothing.

Cassian was only half listening. If he could help it, he would have them both forgetting Mrs. Rousseau and her need for shelf tightening at the most inconvenient time. If she couldn't reach it, it sounded like a good enough reason to leave it alone.

"Tell you what. Take me out tonight, and I'll tell her anything you want. Or...you can have this now and then you have to go help her."

"Mmm," he hummed, feigning contemplation for all of three seconds. Take her out, see her in something pretty, spend an evening ogling her – respectfully, as her husband who was very allowed to lose himself in her beauty – or have her then and there...and have a run-in with the old woman after.

Decisions, decisions.

"You drive a hard bargain, gorgeous," Cass said, hoisting her up and wrapping her legs at his waist. "I suppose I'll have to take..." He paused to give her a real kiss, one he chose to lose himself in. By the time he pulled away, he'd nearly forgotten what he wanted to say. "I reckon I'll have to choose both a night out and an afternoon in." The boy turned to take them back to their bedroom, doubtful she'd mind despite her oh so busy schedule. "I'm afraid I'll have to turn down our neighbour, though. Maybe another time."

He was a little busy.

---

Tuesday, May 16, 1922
2 AM

Cassian couldn't sleep. The boy had been awake for hours, first lying next to his wife and listening to the sound of her breathing, then pacing the floor between their bedroom and living room. It was getting worse. For the past few days, he could feel himself teetering toward the edge of a spiral. At most, he was holding on by a thread, and, Merlin, what a thin thread it was.

They were in a new town, and many of the same problems had followed them. Cass was realising with frightening clarity that Allonnes hadn't been the problem, but the circumstances of their survival were. It was the daily grind, the abrasive and unforgiving world of work that often required so much more of him physically than he'd ever had to give before. He wasn't some burly bloke who'd been at it for years. His muscles were still learning what they needed to be while the world sought to rewrite who Cassian was meant to think he was.

It couldn't be all they'd ever have; it couldn't. Their whole lives couldn't be angry shouts and poor wages while they kept both eyes open for dangers that seemed to be attracted to them ever since they'd left England.

With each day that passed, they were getting closer to welcoming a baby into this kind of life. What would they do when he was born? Rosie would have to stay home to care for him unless they could find someone willing. That, as an idea, brought its own unease. Only a better income would secure them a place at one of the day nurseries, and it was hard to say how well the baby would be loved and cared for there. But removing an income source would make it just as hard to keep them both provided for.

The walls were closing in, and he was running out of ways to make them stop. The silent stress he carried had begun to manifest as painful, twisting knots in his stomach. Those knots had worsened the weekend before. Their NEWTs were the culprit.

They needed to do well despite the exhaustion life had handed them in the previous year.

It was their last hope that, someday, it wouldn't be factories and fields, but real work, work that didn't leave them scraping every coin while they figured out what they couldn't afford to do for the next month.

Cassian wanted to believe that they wouldn't spend their lives in hiding, and when the day eventually came, it mattered that they were ready and qualified.

But he no longer possessed the easy academic confidence he'd sported at Hogwarts, and that only served to amplify his anxieties beyond what he'd been able to manage before.

Cass could feel the familiar pull tugging against him. Only the image of his wife, blue eyes sad and full of disappointment, kept him pacing as he tried to resist. What a time to let her down. He exhaled sharply, reconciling the fact that he wouldn't be able to fight it much longer.

"Rosie?" he called softly as he sank back onto their bed. He reached out to nudge her gently, hoping not to startle her. "...Rosie?"

Tuesday, May 16, 1922
2 AM

"Rosie?"

Somewhere, in the soft glow of her dreams, his voice called out to her. It was the same as it always was in the moments where her mind took her through the deep cycles of sleep. A slight buzzing, the inflection of warmth summoning her through the world her mind had conjured.

She was knelt beside a stream, wildflowers growing in every direction. The sun, pink and orange hues in its sunrise beamed down upon her while a light breeze waved through her hair. It was a study of her reflection, eyes hollow and pale where their usual vibrancy had now fled.

She could feel something in the distance. Something watching her, stalking her. Measuring her as its prey.

At the sound of his voice, she turned looking over her shoulder, her chest rising and falling with soft, tepid breaths. She couldn't see him, and as she rose to her feet, she could feel the separate ominous presence growing stronger with every moment.

Her eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on the world that began to grow hazy around her, the scene changing as fast as she tried to grasp it.

"...Rosie?"

"Hmm?" Her voice hummed as his touch gently roused her from her sleep. In the cloud of her half-awake state, Rosie became aware of the velvety comfort of their bed and the feeling of Cassian beside her. A deep breath as her eyes slowly opened in the dark, only able to make out the shadow of him at her side.

Was it one of those nights? It happened now and again, where the kinds of needs they had couldn't wait until waking hours. They were young and their appetites for one another typically saw them waking up eagerly at the other's behest and with little complaint. Since falling pregnant, it had become more difficult for Rosie, finding that sleep was hard-won anyway, but she was still a very willing participant.

"Come here then," she said sweetly, wrapping her arm around his middle and tugging to bring him closer to her. If he simply couldn't sleep, she was sure they could reconcile that quickly enough.

"Come here then."

She tugged at his waist, but he remained sitting upright. Seeing her half awake, Cass began to doubt that he should've disturbed her at all. They had Transfiguration in the morning and had already been up pretty late trying to get any last-minute knowledge stuffed into their brains. Life made being a student hard. It was no wonder that most chose to focus on one or the other, seldom both.

If they showed up to the centre exhausted, it could spell disaster for the practical portion in the afternoon.

Crawling into bed with her and letting her soothe him...presented its own disastrous outcome. Cassian knew he would feel better for the moment and that they'd both fall back asleep in no time, letting the relief sweep them off to their dreams.

But morning would come, and when it did, he knew the restlessness would return. It had been a while since it had gotten so bad and the longest time since he'd had to put up such a fight. Cass was quickly coming to the conclusion that it was a fight he wouldn't win if he continued going the way he was. He could already feel the walls beginning to crumble. If he let himself fall to baser desires and used it to tell himself that he'd survived another night, the next one would only be more menacing.

"...Later," he said quietly, taking her by the arm and gently tugging her up instead.

Later, when the walls were no longer closing in and he'd found a better way to relieve the pressure that was building in his chest. The old Cassian would've readily jumped at the opportunity. Being offered the choice to continue ignoring his problems for a while longer in favour of her body and all the sweet pleasures it offered? There wasn't a better deal out there, and even now, a part of him wanted to rush to take it.

But he couldn't.

Cass had made a promise to do better or at least to let her in. The boy still wasn't comfortable with the idea of the latter, which forced him away from the option at all.

"I was wondering if...you wanna go for a walk. We don't have to go far if you're tired."

All he knew was that he needed to be moving.

He didn't move.

It didn't register at first. The girl being so sleepy that when she tugged and he hadn't immediately dropped down beside her completely bypassing her notice. Instead her eyes fluttered a bit, her arm resting comfortably around him, waiting for him to make his move.

Cassian was always as eager as she was. There was rarely a time when either of them propositioned the other and were turned down. Even now, with so much stress on both of their shoulders - NEWTs, work, preparing for a baby, and the ever-present danger of her father looming over them - Cassian and Rosalie still found time to meet each other's baser needs.

"...Later."

His voice was quiet, even for it being the middle of the night, and her eyes opened again, her eyebrows crinkling as he he gently pulled her into an upright position.

Something was wrong. A nightmare maybe? Those were fairly common between the two of them - Rosie having them often whereas Cass had them sometimes - some being so intense that it kept them from going back to sleep once they'd woke. Or had he heard a noise? Rosie glanced around the room at the sudden thought, anxiousness creeping along her arms as she reminded herself she'd locked every door and shuttered every window.

"What is it?" she asked, her arm slinking from his waist as she righted herself in the bed. In the dark, blue eyes searched for his brown, trying to read him in the quiet that fell across the room again.

"I was wondering if...you wanna go for a walk. We don't have to go far if you're tired."

A...walk? "Now?" she asked. She couldn't see the clock on the wall to try and decipher the time, but she knew good and well enough no one with good intentions went walking about outside at this hour. A new concern came over her, not for an intruder or a terrifying dream, but for Cassian.

This wasn't like him. She knew they had NEWTs in the morning, and he'd been noticeably anxious about them. She didn't understand why. Cassian had always passed his classes and aced his exams with flying colors. He was a Ravenclaw for a reason. If there was anyone who should be nervous, it was her, with her baby brain that couldn't recall the simplest things lately.

"Okay," she said slowly, moving the blankets aside to slip out of the bed. There would be no going back to sleep now anyway with the way her concern was growing by the moment. "Let's go."

"What is it?"

"I just..."

"Now?"

"...Yeah." Now. Before his insides exploded. Before those walls that pressed inward finally crushed him. Before he found his way up the street to the guy he wasn't supposed to know who happened to sell things that his wife wouldn't appreciate him partaking in. Cassian was doing his best, but the past had taught him more times than he could count that his best wasn't always good enough. It wasn't something he was proud to admit, and the boy would've much preferred thinking that all he needed was a little more grit.

But it wasn't that simple, nor was it so easy. If all it took was telling himself that he was better than he thought he was, he wouldn't be up at this atrocious hour in the first place.

Cass breathed an audible sigh of relief when Rosie relented without further questions. Bad as he felt waking her up, he knew he'd feel even worse if she woke in the morning to find him strung out of his mind – feeling better than Merlin knew what for, Merlin knew how long – but strung up and disappointing and very unlike the husband she'd gone to bed with.

He would do anything to avoid that.

"Let's go."

Cass rose from the bed and crossed the room to grab a shirt. It was strange. He'd done the thing he knew he needed to do, reaching out and proving that he wouldn't always try to handle things on his own when they'd promised to be a team, yet there was a distinct lack of relief. Cassian thought the hardest part was over and that he could rest in the glow of phoning in his other half, but the feelings were only worsening.

He wanted that high. For just a short time, he wanted to feel on top of the world again and like he was invincible, not...invisible. The boy missed feeling like he used to, even in the moments when it was nothing more than flash and bravado. Back then, it didn't matter if it was real. The adrenaline was enough to convince his brain that it was.

Once they were both ready, Cassian led them quietly from the apartment and out into the brisk air of the early morning.

Alençon was a bigger city than Allonnes had been, but even it slept.

Only the lights of a few buildings remained on, some flashing with threats of giving out, and the streetlights. The desolate street opened to them, deafening in its silence but inviting in its many possibilities. There were many places they could end up, but only one that Cassian had in mind.

He slipped his hand into hers, inhaling like his life depended on it. "Let's go down this way." In the exact opposite direction of where he had no business going.

Another stretch of silence passed between them as they walked by the bakery. Cassian tried to think of something to say to make this all feel a little more normal and less like he was currently looking his ruin in the face but nothing felt right.

"It's a nice night, huh?" His words were low enough that Rosie would've had to be listening to hear them.

"No smog, just stars."

Now.

Rosalie couldn’t imagine what had possessed Cassian into wanting to wander the streets at this hour, but she didn’t ask. Instead, she quietly moved through the room, changing from her nightdress into regular clothes and slipping her shoes on.

As they made their way out in the warm spring night, her hand in his, Rosalie tried not to read too much into all of this. As unlike him as it was, Cassian was an artistic, dreamer type. He was prone to musings and different behavior when he was in the creative space. Maybe he just needed some air to ground him. And…maybe he just didn’t want to wander alone.

Maybe there were a thousand reasons he had woken her and asked her to walk with him. They didn’t have to be bad reasons. There was nothing inherently bad happening, was there? They were settled in their new flat and had a routine that saw them spending most of their time together or at least in the vicinity of one another. They had dinner together every night.

No girls trying to cause discord between them. No break-ins. No arguments or misunderstandings.

They had a baby on the way, and Rosalie was growing more and more in love with the idea every day. They were comfortable and learning how to be adults.

They were happy.

….weren’t they?

Rosie glanced at him as he tugged her past the bakery, trying to read him as he stared straight ahead. The silence between them was deafening. Silence had never been a good thing in their relationship. Where others might find solace in the idea of ‘no news is good news’, Rosie knew for them, especially when it came to Cassian, it was the exact opposite.

“It’s a nice night, huh?”

His words were so quiet she almost didn’t hear them. She glanced at him again and then up to the night.

“No smog, just stars.”

………

She didn’t trust that he had brought her out to look at the stars. As often as they had done so - laid out and watched them together - it had never come on a whim, in the middle of the night when she was already asleep.

“Sure.” Her answer was equally soft, laced with the confusion and concern that had only grown since she climbed out of bed. She bit her lip, trying to tell herself to be patient with him, but her moods had been up and down lightly and she could feel herself growing antsy.

“Where exactly are we going?”

And why?

“Where exactly are we going?”

It was the question of the century, wasn’t it? Where were they going, was there a set destination?

On a physical level, there was. Cassian had locked the location into his brain, then set himself on autopilot for them to get there. On a metaphysical level, he was less sure. Cass hadn’t woken his wife with some grand solution in mind, and he didn’t know what he was expecting to achieve, other than a few more hours where he could be strong.

Maybe the destination was outlasting the desire. If he could go long enough, have her in his company to remind him of what he was fighting for long enough, then maybe it would pass, and he would once again be free–at least until the next time it resurfaced.

“The park,” he said finally.

They’d taken several trips there since moving into the city, most often on Sunday afternoons to have small picnics where they could read and talk under the shade of a large tree and lose themselves in each other’s company for a little while. It wasn’t the sort of trip they’d make at night for good and sensible reasons, but that night, those reasons suddenly couldn’t hold up to the tightening inside his chest.

Did she need more explanation than that? Cassian was so wrapped in his own unravelling that he never noticed the growing unease building inside her. It didn’t cross his mind that such an impromptu walk could appear ominous or that the behaviour was far enough outside his baseline that it might raise her brows and her anxiety.

He was focused on getting to the park and the big breath he would allow himself when they got there.

Cassian slowed to a stop when they arrived at the large, iron gate, flanked on both sides by equally tall fencing. He knew, even before setting them in that direction, that it would be closed. It always closed in the evenings and never reopened until 8 AM. At such an hour, with no chance of entry, the boy didn’t anticipate they would have any intruders or any temptations.

“What do you say, gorgeous?” he asked, dropping her hand as he walked right up to the gate. “Up for a little breaking and entering?” Cass turned to her with the faintest grin and a hint of his old boyish mischief in his eyes. The easiest option was a brief ‘alohomora’. They’d be courteous enough to ensure the gate was closed behind them like the responsible nearly adults they were. That responsibility was aided along by the fact that the boy wasn’t looking for other company.

They could also scale the bloody thing if they were more worried about someone lurking in the shadows unseen but able to see them.

Statute breach wasn’t on the agenda for the night.

This boy was going to drive her insane.

Genuinely.

The park, he’d said. All he’d said. The park. At two in the morning, when it was closed and not a soul who had any good intentions would be in their homes, asleep.

The large gates loomed ahead of them, her eyes drifting warily to the iron that kept them out and urged them back from whence they came. He dropped her hand, wandering closer to them as she remained where she stood, blue oceans refocusing on her husband.

“What do you say, gorgeous? Up for a little breaking and entering?”

What did she say? Rosalie hadn’t said much of anything since she’d been coaxed from her bed, and what she had said hadn’t been met with much in return. She didn’t understand what they were doing here.

The park was a place they visited often, during normal waking hours, but why he wanted to be here now, she couldn’t decipher.

Rosalie glanced over her shoulder, her eyes moving slowly across the empty streets behind them. Despite the smile he’d shared, the girl could feel something off about all of this, and didn’t trust his pull for ease in the moment. Turning back to the gate, Rosalie shook her head with a slight shrug and pulled her wand.

She didn’t want to be out here. She wasn’t up for whatever this was. She wanted to be back in her bed, sleeping and not faced with the very familiar stalling Cassian was doing. Whatever it was that was happening, she wished he’d just get it over with, but apparently it required the private isolation of an empty park at two in the morning.

“Alohomora,” she said quietly, flicking her wand and within a moment, the large gates swung inward, welcoming them to whatever fresh hell Cassian had in store for her.

She tucked her wand back into her dress pocket and walked past him into the silent, darkened park.

The gates swung open with a low moaning creak, thwarting any plans the pair may have had for discretion. It was lucky for them that, at such an atrocious hour, they truly were alone, as there was every certainty they would’ve been caught otherwise. Cassian winced at the sound, wishing he’d thought to silencio the gate before Rosie could open it. No point dwelling after it was already done.

The boy looked around for any signs of movement and was satisfied at having turned up nothing. They were every bit as alone as he’d hoped, and that brought with it its own comfort.

Cass took his wife by the hand again, leading them further into the park.

He had to say something, he knew. Patient as Rosie was, he was beginning to catch glimpses of her unease. If he allowed himself a moment of self-reflection and honesty, he would admit it was all more than a little strange. The time of night alone would raise anyone’s antennae, and his silence had been profound. He couldn’t help it. Cassian had become a captive of his own mind, lost in his rumination and his spiralling desires.

Was there anything he could’ve done to avoid this outcome? Some place he should have gone, some words he could’ve said? It was hard to imagine anything making a difference that could matter enough after the many pits they’d fallen into since leaving home.

Rosie always said he should talk to her; tell her what he was feeling. She thought it might help.

He didn’t see it that way.

The boy wasn’t suddenly convinced about the importance of pouring his heart out or filled with fantasies that telling her would do anything more than cause her more worry. It was a last desperate attempt to keep himself accountable.

If he couldn’t stop himself, then maybe she could.

Cassian had always wanted to be his best self for his wife; he was simply putting it into practice that night.

He swung their hands gently as they walked, plucking up the courage to utter the words he knew needed to be said. Once they were out, they were no longer only his to carry. Cass forced in a small intake of air to steady himself.

”I’m losing my mind, Rosie,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing with the admission. He tugged her over to the bench by the walkway. Cassian sat, pressing his palms to his forehead. He’d already started; there was no point in pulling back now–no matter how much he wanted to. “Everyday feels a little harder than the last, and I’m…worried I’ll end up reaching for things I shouldn’t.”

The boy knew where to get them and could reasonably take a few without her ever knowing, but that wasn’t who he was trying to be.

“Sorry for waking you,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. ”I didn’t know what else to do.”

His hand found hers again, and for a moment Rosalie chastised herself for her impatience. As tired as she was, as confused and uneasy as she felt, for some reason Cassian needed her to do this with him. She had wanted to sink into the annoyance she had begun to feel and snap at him to explain himself, but feeling the trepidation he was exuding, she was glad she had kept her composure and just let him lead.

Even moreso when he sat her down on the bench.

”I’m losing my mind, Rosie.”

She didn’t understand. Losing his mind over what? She couldn’t help the confused expression that washed over her features as he dropped his head into his hands. What could he be losing his mind over? There wasn’t anything crazy going on. They were working, enjoying their evenings and weekends together. Life was simple, if not a little overwhelming sometimes when the bills came, but they made it work.

She remained quiet, feeling her stomach begin to twist on itself. She was happy, content, and looking forward to their future. They weren’t rich or living lives of ease, but that sort of life had never been fulfilling for the girl who saw the world as one big adventure and wanted to experience every angle of it. Who needed wealth when it came at the price of freedom and personhood?

She had everything she needed. She had him, and that was all she could ask for.

“Everyday feels a little harder than the last, and I’m…worried I’ll end up reaching for things I shouldn’t.”

His words hit her square in the chest, and she swallowed hard, her eyes immediately losing focus as she turned from him and stared out across the dark park, trying to wrap her head around them.

She knew what he meant. Drugs. Potions.

She’d told him, reassured him back in the RoR that he could always come to her when he was struggling, that they would figure it all out together and that she wouldn’t run from it. She’d promised him that they were a team and he wouldn’t have to worry about condemnation from her.

Everyday felt harder for him. Every day. Even the days when nothing but laughter rang out in their home. Even the days when they laid in bed for hours and talked and sought out each other’s physical comfort.

He wasn’t happy. In fact, he was struggling so much he was thinking about using. The words rang in her mind, reverberating in loud echoes, and for a moment, Rosalie wondered what she had missed. Had she been so caught up in her idealism and settling into their life she hadn’t been careful enough in her observation of him? Admittedly, she’d been distracted. They had a baby on the way, and she was planning and reading up on all the things she should expect as the months went on.

She hadn’t been as focused on him as she normally was. It would have been easy for her to miss if he was miserable, she guessed.

“Sorry for waking you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

She remained quiet, her mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. She didn’t know what to do either.

When they’d decided to run, she’d thought maybe his need for stimulants was behind him. She’d never caught him using and he’d never once looked high or strung out, even during the two weeks when they hadn’t spoken to each other. He had wanted this. He had gotten down on one knee and asked her to run away with him. They’d both known it wouldn’t be easy. There was nothing easy about being seventeen and estranged from your family and friends, having no one but each other to lean on.

Rosalie felt that loss as strongly as she was sure he did. She missed Julia. She missed Benji and her grandad and all the babies. She even missed her mother and Thomas and Matthew. For so long, her family had been her only confidants, her only source of home and comfort.

Cassian had taken on that role and she for him. She didn’t discount the toll it had taken on him, but…why was this so much easier for her than him?

She could feel his eyes on her, and she intentionally softened her expression before turning to look at him. She didn’t want him to see the hurt behind her eyes or even the strange sense of betrayal that she couldn’t logic. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and was doing exactly what she wanted him to.

“I don’t know either, Cassian. What to do anyway.” It was honest, quiet. There was despair within her words, though she did her best to hide it. He needed her. She couldn’t let him down when she’d promised him they’d be a team about this.

“Why is it so hard for you?” The question was genuine, not from a place of judgement or anger, but wanting to understand what was going through his mind. “We both wanted this.” At least they thought they did that summer night when they stood up to Julia and chose one another.

Her fingers found his again, and she linked them together, wanting him to know she wasn’t pulling back. She just needed to know where this was coming from.

The silence seemed to drag on for an eternity. Where the boy had hoped for words, there was nothing but the gentle rustling of the leaves each time the wind returned. It picked up a few of them from the paved walkway, scattering them further down the path.

There was the sound of his heart as it beat a furious rhythm inside his chest, its vibrations stirring in his ears. In the distance, a stray dog barked, its sounds echoing through the night.

But nothing from her.

It didn’t take long for him to grow uncomfortable with the silence. Cassian shuffled in his seat, his body looking to dispel the nervous energy in whatever way it could. His leg shook, bouncing with his poorly contained restlessness. Each time he caught it, he forced it to stop, but the moment his mind drifted, it started up again. All of him was a livewire, waiting for her permission to exhale and release the building tension.

He told himself that anything would do, so long as it rescued him from his own bombarding thoughts. But then she did speak.

“I don’t know either, Cassian. What to do anyway.”

Fuck.

She didn’t have an answer either. There would be no relief, no absolution, just the thoughts that would continue to rattle around in his head without a clear place to land.

“Why is it so hard for you?”

It was just what he needed, another thing to not know. The question itself told him many things. She’d asked why it was so hard for him. Wasn’t it hard for her? This? All of this? The daily grind, the gruelling work? Feeling like every day was the same and like nothing they did, or would do, mattered?

He was struggling and had managed to take some small solace in the thought that they were struggling together, but…

“We both wanted this.”

They…they did…

Cassian shifted on the bench to face her, his mind emptying of his own struggles for the moment. “We do,” he insisted. Not in the past, but presently. Everyday. “Rosie…that’s not…this isn’t about me having regrets about anything we’ve done.” His fingers tightened around hers, both trying to keep her there while his mind spiralled about her leaving, and to anchor himself against the dizzying tide of his own making.

“If you took me back to that tower and someone told me where we’d be, I’d still ask you to run.” And he needed her to get that. His wife carried doubts, and sometimes they got louder than everything else. Cassian knew how quickly she crumbled inward, accepting blame for things that weren’t her fault and worrying more than she needed to. That was why he’d chosen not to say anything, just in case she heard things he didn’t say, like she was now.

“This isn’t because I don’t want us.” Did she get that?

“I…” he forced in a breath, understanding he needed to hold himself together better than he currently was. What did he look like, dragging his pregnant wife to an empty park in the middle of the night, shaking like he was going through withdrawal?

“Look, let’s just forget about it.” He’d just have to try harder to make it work, somehow. “Let me take you home. We’ve got exams tomorrow.”

Cass pulled himself to his feet, tugging her along with him. The walk hadn’t helped the way he’d hoped it would, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d have Rosie thinking he was in real danger of passing out in a ditch somewhere.

He wasn’t.

Things weren’t the greatest, and the crushing weight in his chest was returning, but the boy knew his limits now. An overdose was unlikely.

“Rosie…that’s not…this isn’t about me having regrets about anything we’ve done.”

Wasn’t it? Didn’t it all boil back down to what they had done? Without the choices they’d made, Cassian would still be enrolled at Hogwarts. His worries would end on a short list of NEWTs, the greenhouses, his friends and his girlfriend. There would still be the issues between him and his parents, but as far as she knew, they were improving - with his mum at least.

What else could be inferred by his statement that every day was getting harder?

It wasn’t that things hadn’t been hard on Rosie too. The stress of constant bills, of their upcoming NEWTs, the trouble both she and Cassian had found in their previous city, and a baby on the way - of course she stayed up late, racing thoughts occupying her sleeping hours.

But the difference was, she also knew it wasn’t forever. Being young and just starting out was difficult for anyone, much more for those that had no support system. She knew she was content, despite the hardships, because he was worth all of it. Rosalie had never, since the day Cassian asked her to be his girlfriend, imagined her life in any way without him.

This was what she wanted.

“If you took me back to that tower and someone told me where we’d be, I’d still ask you to run. This isn’t because I don’t want us.”

“Then what is it about?” she pleaded. If there was another reason, something else that made more sense, then he was free to tell her. She’d welcome it. Anything to get her mind off the idea that he was recognizing what a mistake he’d made.

She wanted to believe that they had succeeded. That they had made their dreams come true. Maybe not in all the ways they had expected, but here they were. A roof over their heads, food in their cupboards, jobs to pay the bills….

They had each other. Why did he need his potions? What wasn’t he getting that he needed?

“Look, let’s just forget about it. Let me take you home. We’ve got exams tomorrow.”

What? Rosie blinked as he tugged her to her feet without warning, apparently ready to stop the conversation before it had even begun. Just like that. One earnest question and he was shutting down, shutting her out.

He’d promised it wouldn’t be like this.

“No,” she said softly but forcefully and planted her feet. She tugged back on his arm roughly, stopping him in his tracks. “You don’t get to do that. Not anymore.” She let him go and sat back down on the bench.

She stared straight ahead for a moment, trying to gather herself before she crumbled, and once she had her composure looked up at him with pleading eyes.

She didn’t want him to go do something stupid because she didn’t answer the way he needed her to.

“You can either sit and talk, or I’ll sit here by myself all night.”