make or break

[Kristopher Turner]

i shift my weight nervously from foot to foot as i stand on the doorstep to the house. my hands are clenched so tightly my knuckles are white around the scrap of parchment in my hands; i was clinging to it like it was a ticket. to me it was. it was starting to fray though, from my constant perusal and re-reading it, the ink starting to fade already. i was terrified that when the ink faded, it'd be invalid, which is why i was here now. because i couldn't waste anymore time in case that become reality.
alerted by a brief ripping noise, i glance down at the letter to see i've accidently ripped it in my nervous twisting of my fingers and my heart leaps up to my throat and chokes me for a minute in case i've ruined my carefully built chance. but i dismiss it, knowing it was stupid. i could still read the words so the magic would still work, after all this world was all about magic; i knew that much.

yeah. i think it's about time we met.

i think the words in my head out loud, trying to imagine the voice behind the person behind the hand that had written and mailed them to me. the voice i'm imagining somehow becomes my own and i shake my head quickly because i know it won't be so. i've already worked it out by this point, the voice will be different. not twinged with a foreign infliction like my own, maybe the same pitch, the slow manner of thoughtful speech like me perhaps? or with an amused edge like simone? god i hope so.
it's been months, since i first forced myself to pick up a quill and wrote the letter, but i can still remember every word. i'd considered including lengthy explanations and apologies but decided against it, instead including the phrase 'please don't be alarmed' and stating my name and a request for correspondance. that'd been right, surely? a choice. he deserved a choice. and i'd expected no reply.
regardless my heart had still leapt even after i read the cutting and disbelieving reply, and i'd jumped on the chance to talk. we'd discussed a lot in a few short letters, but it wasn't quite enough. there was still a need i couldn't shake to explain it face to face, to meet the faceless entity that had fascinated me for so long; the one thing that had kept me going for nearly two decades now. when my request to meet went unanswered for days, i assumed that was it, but no...no, it'd taken a while before the parchment had arrived but it was worth the wait just for the eight words that were inscribed upon it in the scrawl that'd become familiar and i'd compared many times to both my own and simones.
i clutch the paper tighter, this was my ticket. when the door opened; this would be my ticket. my ticket to making it all worthwhile. i swallow, then fold it, adding new creases to the well worn paper and tucking it back into my jeans pocket and keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the door.
this is it.
make or break.

[Ian Hunt]

I'd been standing in the hall for most of the morning, waiting. I knew he'd be coming today, I was counting on it because this was the time I'd psyched up for and if he didn't come now then that was it and I would not be interested and he could just piss off again because I don't think I would be able to handle it.
Maddie was out somewhere, I think. No, that was a lie. I knew. I'd made sure that it was at a time when she'd be at work or school or wherever she went during weekdays. Alex was quiet, and had been for about ten minutes now, sitting in his pen/prison thing in the living room. The quiet was helping. I decided to thank him when he was old enough to acknowledge it even though he wouldn't remember.
I keep my eyes on the scuffed caps of my boots as I hear the knock, stopping dead with my relentless pacing and forgetting to breathe for a moment.
I knew exactly what was coming, and I was prepared to be disappointed. I'd had too many flares of hope on the family front to be able to get too enthused about this. It wasn't quite real in my mind. It was a man, that knew too much, and shared a name (if it was his real name) with my birth father and had happened to write to me and I'd happened to write back to. The whole corresponding conversation had felt like we were humouring each other, or maybe that was just to me. It wasn't quite believable to me. Today would push me one way or the other I was sure.
I hadn't mentioned it to anyone, not Maddie, not Mez, anyone. It was a secret, my secret so that when I was let down it wouldn't hurt as much and no one else needed to know.
My hands shake slightly as I start to open the door and I have to pause to get ahold of myself before I pull open the door with an impassive expression.

[Kristopher Turner]

i'm still in the process of tucking the letter into my pocket when the door opens and i immediately look up, forgetting what i'm doing and letting my hand fall lamely back to my side, tilting my head to one side as i take in the man in front of me.
my eyes dart over him, taking him in with a glance. we were the same height, built with the same slightness. the pale skin is all too familiar and the angular sharp face is the one that's looked back at me from the mirror for all 42 years of my existance. although the thing that strikes me, the thing that really strikes me and stuns me into still silence, is the eyes. simone's obviously. i never thought i'd see them again.
i see scars, fine and pearly white, tracing up his arms under his t-shirt sleeves and a thick blotched scar across the throat, holding my flickering eyes for too long. my heart jolts unpleasantly.
i have to clear my throat before i can speak, although my voice still sounds unusually husky, and i can think of nothing intelligent or necessary to say. "hello."

[Ian Hunt]

"Hello," I reply shakily, a knee-jerk reaction. I haven't even considered the word before I say it, it just comes out automatically in response to the greeting.
But when I notice how uneven my voice is, I swallow hard and repeat it a firmer and more coherent way, "Hello."
I feel like I'm looking at someone I've known my entire life but I'm very aware that I don't know him at all, I only know that the way he stands mirrors exactly the way I'm standing right now, and the way he tilts his head is something that I've caught myself doing as well. I can't quite see past the mannerisms right now to the fact that the physical likeness is striking as well, but I'm sure it'll sink in eventually.
"I...uh...I suppose you'd like to come in?"

[Kristopher Turner]

"i'd like that." i incline my head slightly in a brief nod, not wanting to take my eyes off him in case this all disappears.
i've been waiting for this too long for it to disappear.
i was right, i decide. his voice is very different to how i imagined. it sounds very strange, seeing someone so like me (in appearance at any rate) to speak in an accent so unlike how they should be speaking.

[Ian Hunt]

I step back silently in the doorway, until my back hits the wood of the door to let him walk by me with plenty of room so he won't have to make contact with me at all. I don't want him too close to me in any sense of the word; then it'll be easier when I'm let down.
I can hear his accent clearer now that's he spoken a longer sentence, like Claire and Matt's but nowhere near as dilluted as theirs had been.
I keep very silent, no longer sure what to say, for once sarcasm isn't seeming appropriate or even coming easy to me.

[Kristopher Turner]

i keep close to the opposite side of the doorframe, as i enter the house, carefully avoiding meeting his eyes or touching him in any way.
i can't keep from allowing my eyes to wander around the house, very large and very grand and completely unlike anything i'm used to. i feel very small and insignificant.
i'm not sure if feeling that way is an effect of the house or something else.
i shrug my jacket off carefully, folding it over one arm and clenching my pale fist around it as i glance around more, trying to comit the place to memory in case i'm never here again. at least i can say i've seen my sons world.
"this is a very nice place, christopher." i remark, eyes fixed upwards on the high ceiling, before i manage to tear them away and look back at him.

[Ian Hunt]

I decide not to correct him with the fact that it's not mine because that'd require an explanation and I don't think I can manage more than a few disjointed words without seizing up.
"Thanks," I manage awkwardly after a moment, taking the opportunity of closing the door to look away from him, but he's not looking my way anyway.
I try desperately to think of something to say, but am saved by a whimpering cry from the living room. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Alex cry but that's something I'm pretty sure I can deal with rather than the situation at hand which I'm positive that I can't.
"Excuse me," I mutter, avoiding his gaze and moving quickly past him and into the living room, hoisting Alex out of his prison and mumbling a brief acknowledgement to him; not sure if he'll pick up on me not being all there or not but hoping he won't.

[Kristopher Turner]

my eyes snap towards the sound of crying immediately and i'm pretty sure my eyes widen, but i'm thankful at least that he doesn't notice as he keeps his eyes downcast as he slips past me.
i stay still for a moment, trying to process this, then move awkwardly to stand in the doorway and watch them. there's no denying the baby is his, but i'm not sure if i'm too ask anyway. for some reason i'm disappointed, not in him being a father so young, more because the eyes have stopped with him. i'd hoped some trace of simone would last forever.
i'm not sure what question to ask first, start with the mother of the child who i've heard nothing about? the child's name? i don't know where to progress from here.
i clear my throat slightly, and decide to just state the obvious, "you have a son."

[Ian Hunt]

Obviously.
The sarcasm, even if it's in my own head, is very welcome and I start to feel a little better about everything, hoisting Alex a little higher in my arms as he mercifully doesn't start crying full-on; rather looking at Kris curiously instead.
"Yeah," I reply, then decide this isn't a satisfactory answer, "His name is Alex."

[Kristopher Turner]

i stay very still for a moment, trying to remember if this has been mentioned or not then deciding that this is definitely something i'd remember...being grandparent.
i don't even remember a girl being mentioned, but i figure there must be one.
then i take a hesitant step into the room so i can see alex better. i want to know my grandchild as well as my child now. the need is almost overpowering.
"i didn't know you had a son..." i say lamely.

[Ian Hunt]

"I don't think I'm the one who owes you an explanation," I say softly, surprised by a note of what could be hostility in my tone. I didn't intend to be this way, honestly, I didn't.
So I drop my gaze from him, back to Alex, who's still watching him curiously.

[Kristopher Turner]

"you're right." i mutter. "of course you are."
i don't wait for an invitation to sit, knowing that i'd have to because i doubted i'd be able to keep standing and upright with the honest explanation. it still left me aching.
but i don't sit properly, just perching on the edge of a chair anxiously, clasping my hands together.
"i suppose you might want to sit down."

[Ian Hunt]

I hesitate, but then sit in the chair next to him, still holding Alex as if this'll help me in some way.
After prompting an explanation I decide that maybe I don't want one after all, because his expression is telling me that even he doesn't want to say it all that much.
I want to tell him that I don't need one, that it's okay because he's here now. But I think that if I don't know, closure will be all the harder to come by.
So I just remain silent.

[Kristopher Turner]

"i'm a squib. i think i told you that in a letter." i decide this is the best place to start. "your mother was a muggle though. i met her when i was 19. that's just a year older than you isn't it?"
i know exactly how old he is of course. to the day.
"my family were all...like you." i don't mean this offensively, it's just something that i don't understand. "my brother, your uncle, i mean. my parents too, of course. my stupid brother, stupid daniel. he's still alive, at home, he has a lot of children really. you have a lot of cousins."
i realise i keep getting off track so i stop for a moment to get ahold of myself.
"daniel got caught up in the wrong crowd. dark wizards, i think he called them. dark wizards. i think it's death eaters now? but they weren't back then, i don't think."
i'm digressing again but i can't help it and i really don't know how to bring the conversation back around so i stay quiet for a very long moment.
"he got in deep and panicked. we went into hiding once, unsuccesfully. so he decided to stay put. but seeing as i'm not magically talented i was at more risk. they had a habit of going after families as collaterol you see. so we faked my death and i ran. i wish i could have stayed, i do. i never got a chance to say goodbye, to even say hello to you. i was in hiding for months before i got the all clear and i heard about simone..." my voice wavers slightly, then breaks completely and i lean my head forward into my hands, trying to even out my breathing. which doesn't work so i just finish off by speaking to my fingers. "it was hard. i had to take a little while out to get a grip but when i had you were all gone. all of you. matthew and claire had been taken off by relatives. i couldn't exactly ask family or go through records when i was supposed to be dead now could i? and i didn't even know where to start looking for you, or even if you were alive."
i stop, closing my eyes very tightly so my face seems to crinkle up around them. i wished i could talk about simone, matthew and claire without breaking.
i feel dizzy now.

[Ian Hunt]

I watch him carefully, the pauses and the way his head is burried in his hands, trying to discern if he's real or not.
Then, unable to think of anything to say, I put my free hand on his shoulder.
If there was one thing I could relate to, it would be losing people I loved to death eaters.

[Kristopher Turner]

the touch on my shoulder makes me jump and i have to look up to see if it's real or if i've gone insane.
tentavely, i put my hand briefly on his arm as acknowledgment, before lowering it again, saying hoarsely. "thank you."

[Ian Hunt]

"Alright," I reply quietly.
I try and think of what I might be supposed to reply to that but I can't think of anything while the words are buzzing around my head.
I jump as Alex suddenly laughs, reaching out for him.

[Kristopher Turner]

a weak smile crosses my lips as alex reaches out but i look up at chris first, to make sure it's okay for me to take him. "may i?"

[Ian Hunt]

"Yeah, 'course," I mumble, holding Alex out to him.

[Kristopher Turner]

i smile gratefully, taking alex from him, and hoisting him into my arms. "hello."
i take him in for a moment, wanting to remember him in case this is the last time i meet him, in case something goes wrong here. "he's really something christopher."
deciding that i really am curious, i ask. "his mother would be...?"

[Ian Hunt]

"I know he is," I can't help but smile slightly.
"His mother would be Madeline Speare," I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this root of conversation right now, and I'm not all that sure why that'd be.

[Kristopher Turner]

"madeline speare," i repeat the name, comiting it to memory.
"that's your girlfriend?"

[Ian Hunt]

"My fiance," I reply. The phrase sounds weird to me, but not in a bad way, just in the way that I never assumed I'd say it.

[Kristopher Turner]

"you're getting married?" i ask surprised. "at your age?"

[Ian Hunt]

"I love her," I reply simply, raising an eyebrow to challenge him to say something else.

[Kristopher Turner]

i raise an eyebrow in response, contemplating a reply but deciding against it. "it's your life, chris."

[Ian Hunt]

"It is," I agree, "But you're hardly one to talk. You married mum when you were 19, unless my information is incorrect."

[Kristopher Turner]

"no. you're information is correct. met and married simone when i was 19." i glance down at alex then back up at him. "your information source, however, intrigues me."

[Ian Hunt]

"Matt and Claire told me," I answer, "They didn't tell me much, but they told me that."