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| Grace's Flat; Paris, 14e arrondissement | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 23 2009, 04:27 AM (134 Views) | |
| Grace Boheme | Oct 23 2009, 04:27 AM Post #1 |
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Grace Boheme was in possession of several flats, naturally. Of course the one was actually rented to a "Elizabeth Stanton" -- one of many alibis (and incidently, chosen by placing two woman activists fighting for an unpopular cause together) -- but she was particularly fond of it. The kitchen was larger than average, and her bedspread here was purple. She'd been experimenting with the different decorating styles, and found that simple worked best for her. The flat was unnaturally clean; it sparkled. It was hard to imagine that an infant lived there in any capacity, although James was still a newcomer of course. The stove-tops gleamed, a tea-pot currently atop it whistling a sweet little tune. The floors were swept and maintained, the walls housed mainly black and white photographs of different churches, and every magazine was in place, fanned out on the oak coffee table. One in particular, The Good Works--A Magazine of Understanding was on top for quickly reaching. Atop the mantle was a silver clock, ticking away perfect time as Grace refused to be even a moment late, and a few tarnished picture frames. One such picture was of a young, blonde girl on her father's lap --stagnant, they were muggle photographs of course -- reading a passage out of the Bible. There was a few of the same girl receiving Communion, Confirmation, and her diploma from biblical school (as though she'd never attended a magical school at all). Her mother was smiling proudly out of them, as was her father, his smile a little crooked. There was even a little photograph as a memento of their dear departed golden retriever. Grace's life had always been perfect, until the day that letter from Beauxbatons had arrived, and she'd endeavored to pick that back up. There were a few magical reference books for healing as she'd been such a healer for several years, but mainly they were muggle literature. Of course, several of them referred to understanding the Bible, and She-Who-Is, one of her favorites. Of course, entering the apartment, one would also be immediately assaulted with the religious paraphernalia. A crucifix hung in the opening, with a alter to Jesus sitting besides it. There were a few dozen candles surrounding it, burning bright as her faulty smile. A cracked, gigantic and dusty bible lay on the side of it, beneath the picture. It was open to a psalm, the scarlet ribbon marking the page and hanging stiff. Choral music poured forth from her stereo set, an appropriately low volume. This was to mask any babies cries. Can't bother the neighbors, naturally. At that particular moment, Grace was whistling her own sweet little tune to the choral music as she stood over James. He was not in the crib she'd purchased for him, but rather, laying on a little table. A single monitor was hooked up to his back, the veins on his arms being too small for the silver needle. He hadn't cried this time, for it was most simply not the first such exercise. Though it really rather pained her to see him in pain, she cooed as she brushed hair out of his eyes. "It's going to be all right." She said it very quietly, very reassuringly, convinced of herself as she was. "I'm trying to help." Her wand- a tool she rather hated- was hanging limply by her side as she waited to see if there were any changes from the latest spell. A file lay open beside her, her perfect script detailing the latest tries. She was trying to help; if she could discover where his magic had originated, she could eradicate it herself. After all, she herself hadn't been so lucky. She'd been doomed to hell from the moment she was born, and for this to happen to so many innocent babies was a crime she'd never quite understood. Their God was meant to be forgiving, but this? This wasn't forgiving. She could only imagine that the God she loved so dearly had some plan for those like her who tried to right the many, many wrongs of wizarding kind. |
![]() +...there's something different in the way you smile... ((...behind those eyes(you LIE)...)) ...(there's something I can't SEE) something living in the way you smile...+ | |
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| Tyler Rubin | Oct 23 2009, 04:45 AM Post #2 |
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Everything about this was wrong. Tyler knew it. The pair of them were the most directly tied to the 'case', and therefore were not supposed to be following up on any leads themselves. There was just one tiny little problem with that. He didn't bloody care. Because everything about this was wrong. Their son was missing. He'd been taken from them, from his own home, from his own bed. He had to have been so scared, wept for his mother, Tyler knew. It was wrong. He was gone. They hadn't dealt with it; they hadn't slept more than the times they'd collapsed. He hadn't left Lynx's side for more than ten minutes in almost a month. Even Jenny had tried to help them; she'd cleaned James' room 'for when he returned', and sent him pictures to stick on his wall from Hogwarts. Tyler hadn't quite known what to say when they would arrive. Mia had turned out to be more help than she thought; she had something, of the kidnapper. It was an unusual case for kidnapping; no ransom, no demands. If taking James was meant to "teach them" something, the kidnapper had forgotten that fact. Even so, Tyler had found a tea-receipt stuck to Mia's shoe. It had fallen out of their pocket, he could only assume. The curious thing had been that the tea seemed to have gone to a person who most certainly did not exist. While they searched for ways that could have happened, several other names had creeped up, until finally one that had a house. Elizabeth Stanton. Whomever this Elizabeth Stanton was, now had two very pissed off, very exhausted, and frantic parents on her door step. The worst thing of all might have been that they weren't crying or shaking or panicking. No. This? This was something they were good at. And no-one was going to stand between them and their son. Tyler's hand squeezed Lynx's as he held on to her and raised his wand at the door, muttering the required Alohomora and shoving it open perhaps a bit harder than necessary, and entered. A tea-kettle whistled shrill on their arrival, and for a few moments Tyler was hard pressed to understand what was going on in that house. It seemed so...norma, if unbelievably religious. What was a religion-nut doing with their son? That scared him, almost a bit unnaturally, more than anything else had. The way he understood religion, it was all about how to instill fear of eternal pain into a listener and preach how to 'save themselves', by making them do horrible things. It was something of a mass brainwash; logic held no reason to it. He couldn't understand what any of this had to do with James, but he decided it wasn't good and frowned as he stood in front of the alter, where candles were still burning. James turned one years old that day. He wasn't missing his son's first birthday. |
![]() ..happiness is or is happiness a little more like knocking on your door, & you just let it in? | |
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| Lynx Rubin | Oct 23 2009, 05:59 AM Post #3 |
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Resident Matchmaker
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It was her son's first birthday, and his room was empty. For what seemed like years, she and Tyler had been going after everything they could think of. They'd exhausted what seemed like every possibility, and their little boy wasn't home, safe, where he belonged. She knew the crime statistics better than almost anyoe. It was her job to know. She knew that the first 24 hours were the most important, and after that, the chances significantly decreased of finding a kidnapped child alive. So for the past month, she had hardly focused on anything else. Her work hadn't suffered, because she'd just delegated to other people what she hadn't wanted to do. Then she had eaten, slept and breathed her son's case. For the past month, she didn't know if she had spoken a word that wasn't either yelling or completely devoid of emotion. Because she could get angry and let it fuel or, or she could ignore it. There was no other choice, no positive emotion that she could possibly experience. And she couldn't break down. Nevertheless, a breakdown was imminent. Just that day, she had gone into James' empty room, sat down in the rocking chair that was always so instrumental in getting him to sleep when she was too tired to walk him around anymore. She looked at his crib, at the changing table, walking around like it was some sort of precious museum exhibit she was exploring. When she had opened the drawers, looking at his tiny little clothes... that was when she almost lost it. A couple of tears had made their way down her cheeks. But that was it. Because that was when Tyler had found a new lead. So she quickly pulled herself together, and then they were there. It was the creepiest flat she had ever seen. The person living there was clearly very religious, to a disturbing point. Sometimes lines were just crossed. But this person clearly didn't have any respect for lines and boundaries at all, considering she kidnapped children. Ignoring all of the thoughts that came to mind to answer the question 'what would a religious nut want with my baby?', she tried, instead, to focus on what she could do to help him. He had to be there. He had to be. "Homenum Revelio." And it was revealed that there was, indeed, a human presence in the flat. "This way," she said - although she knew that she and Tyler didn't need words to communicate that. She started down the hallway, eventually bursting into the room to which the spell led. What she saw made her sick. Her little boy was being tied down, restrained against a metal table, being hurt. By her own trainee. Grace Boheme had always seemed a bit odd but never the type to do something like this. There was no time for shock, though. Eyes blazing and wand raised, she might have been channeling her Animagus form as she growled, "Get. Away. From my son." |
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| Grace Boheme | Oct 23 2009, 06:30 AM Post #4 |
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Grace's own wand was snapped up the moment the door opened and she heard words behind her but besides that? She barely reacted. She didn't even turn around at first; she merely sighed and shook her head slightly. The Head Auror and...she would presume her husband. Strange how she'd be so strict on rules of not being too-close to a case until she herself was the one too close, wasn't it? Tucking a stray strand of gold behind her ear again she laid one hand directly on little James and turned around saying brightly, "My, my. I'm caught." Yes, she was. That was curious. She was actually honestly surprised by the fact; she'd been evading capture for several years now. Tilting her head, honestly interested in an answer, she asked simply, "Mind telling me how? It has been astonishigly easy to...well as we say, 'pull the wool over your eyes', since the ball even." Her eyes fluttered for a moment. "Or rather, the tragic death of the one that brought me to England, I suppose." The first man she'd killed; David Arquette. For some reason, that one had stuck with her. Yes, she'd been evading capture for some time, and really? She supposed it wasn't a surprise that the one thing they'd be competent at finding her for was her own son. Not minding giving him up in the slightest, she figured she'd bring in Andre's name in a moment or two, but for now? She just kept her hand on James, the little machine whirring and shrugged, smiling bright. Just keep smiling. |
![]() +...there's something different in the way you smile... ((...behind those eyes(you LIE)...)) ...(there's something I can't SEE) something living in the way you smile...+ | |
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| Tyler Rubin | Oct 23 2009, 06:38 AM Post #5 |
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"My, my. I'm caught." Of all the things Tyler had envisioned a kidnapper saying when they were discovered with the one-year old infant of their boss, my-my-i'm-caught, was not one of them. He shook with the anger, his own wand raised. There was just one tiny problem with it; Grace stood in front of James. Spells awry, was not a good idea. Anything that could get her to move, could risk hitting James. Tense, he hadn't even processed that he knew this woman. He'd known her before she'd come to England. She'd worked with him in France; he'd discussed her 'eager if slightly off' nature with Kevin when Kevin had been debating hiring her. She'd gotten along so well with all of them, himself, Sebastien, Kevin, David... In fact, she'd been working in their department since... But she said it. The ball. That was when she'd come. A few weeks before the ball, when David had been...murdered. He blinked, recalling how upset she'd been, how consoling with Emily and the grip on his wand tightened. He stood slightly behind Lynx, for she'd opened the door and held his wand steadily before saying firmly, "You. bitch." It was eloquent. After he'd let it loose, however, he muttered a silent apology to their son. With the hand on him, and seconds after he'd spoken, James had let out a low, startled, steady cry. It jarred oddly with the choral arrangement floating in the air... |
![]() ..happiness is or is happiness a little more like knocking on your door, & you just let it in? | |
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| Lynx Rubin | Oct 26 2009, 03:17 PM Post #6 |
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Resident Matchmaker
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Grace's simple, understated reaction to being caught only enraged Lynx. The woman was torturing her son, and all she could say was 'My, my. I'm caught'!? When James started crying, though, that was it. Tyler's wand was drawn as well, and she had never wanted to attack anyone more than Grace at that moment. The revelation that she had been David's murderer was shocking, but she could barely focus on it. Not when James was right there, so close and yet entirely out of reach. "So what was your plan, Grace?" Clearly the woman wanted to boast, and she still had enough logic left to keep her talking until she could formulate a plan to get James out safely. "Were you working with someone. Anonymous maybe? And why come to England when you clearly made in-roads with France's department?" Her voice was steady despite the fact that inside, she felt like shaking all over. The longer they stayed there, the longer her son was in agony. So she did what came naturally, letting her empathy take control for a moment. She could feel Grace's emotions -- and the woman honestly was far too calm for Lynx's liking -- but the emotions she was really focused on were her son's. He was scared and in pain. It took all of her concentration to focus on using her empathy to calm him slightly, suppressing the fear and trying to give him a calm, peaceful feeling. She was glad she had Tyler there for backup, because she knew she'd need it if she was going to split her focus like that. |
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| Grace Boheme | Oct 26 2009, 05:07 PM Post #7 |
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Grace only frowned once, and that was when Tyler swore. The frown crossed her features with a clumsy attitude; it was not evidently something she did often, and for a moment only. A moment later she beamed, flashing those pearly whites at Lynx as well. "No need to be rude, Tyler." Of course, she remembered everyone she'd killed in great detail, but there was no need to go over every single one. She answered Lynx's questions swiftly, her own wand still raised. "My plan? Oh this one wasn't my plan persay. It seems someone had a score to settle with the Auror Department; it fit my needs as well, as silly as it may seem to have reacted so ...shall we say egregiously? All over a silly warehouse." The moment Andre had informed her that it was only her job to kidnap the children for him, Grace had begun formulating how she might dispose of him internally; she knew he half suspected her of it already and did not mind proving him right. His research was helpful to her own, it was true. But Grace wanted to prove how to erase magic entirely, not how to use it's origin to perfectly engineer an army. "As for Anonymous, heavens no. Well. Not this time. Of course they still think that black and white affair was all their idea. True shame, really. They never gave Tim the credit he deserved; it was a job well done, after all." Why was she talking? It wasn't because she was merely boasting. It was because she'd muttered a wordless spell to continue the test, and until that point James had remained silent enough under her thumb that he had not alerted his parents towards her action. "I take it I'm supposed to boast while you think a great rescue plan up, right?" Grace added a little note when the first sob escaped James, and a truly proud smile crossed her lips. Now, however, he broke into a scream. She sighed, lifting her wand a little higher and turning to continue the test, not bothered at all by her visitors in truth. They wouldn't risk a struggle. Not when their own precious son was on the table. Another clumsy frown crossed her lips as he screamed again, his cries short as his lungs were smaller and filled to capacity so quickly. James quieted under the glaringly orange light, and she brushed hair out of his eyes, noting the precise metrics. "It'll be fine, James." She said it softly. "I really am here to save you from them." "All of them. Every, single, last, bit of wizarding folk that cover their crimes of magic with their false heroics of good deeds. Poor muggle folk, they say, yet never consider the term might be deregatory or simply unnecessary." Now she really was rambling, words simply coming forward. She didn't care anymore. She was caught, right? Whether or not this test finished, whether or not she disappeared with James, it didn't matter. There would be an entire search, and her credibility with Andre would be shot, and it truly seemed that she might have come at the end for once. She wasn't worried. She wasn't even really scared. No, she was calm. There was only one way that wouldn't have a struggle involved Grace knew, the spells she was weaving beginning to cast an oddly orange glow around James. And Lynx Rubin, the Head Auror, would simply never condone murder after all. |
![]() +...there's something different in the way you smile... ((...behind those eyes(you LIE)...)) ...(there's something I can't SEE) something living in the way you smile...+ | |
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| Lynx Rubin | Oct 28 2009, 01:22 PM Post #8 |
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Resident Matchmaker
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Lynx didn't care what she was saying -- something about a warehouse or... something. It didn't matter, because all that mattered to her was the fact that her son was screaming in pain. She wasn't even paying attention to what Grace was saying anymore, just the fact that her little boy was right there. And he needed her more. He was more important than anything that woman could ever say or do. So she raised her wand a little higher. The only reason she focused back in on Grace's words was so she could try to figure out what she was doing so she could stop her. She was talking to James, telling him about just how she was doing this for his own good. No one could possibly say that they were hurting her son for his own benefit. And she wouldn't stop. Lynx had no doubt in her mind about that. So when she felt her son's pain and saw the strange orange light around him, she knew what had to be done. It wasn't as much logic as it was instinct. She couldn't try anything severely offensive, or she'd risk hitting James. And that was something she absolutely refused to do. She also didn't know what sorts of spells her baby was being hit with, and that scared her beyond belief. There was very little that would make Grace's spells stop. Raising her wand, she sent one simple spell aimed directly at Grace's throat. "Suffoco." Not commonly used by any means, Lynx still knew it from years of study and training. And today it was with a satisfied expression that she watched as Grace's air supply was cut off and her windpipe closed. "Stop the spells, or I'll make them stop for you." Despite the threat in her words that she had every hint of carrying out, Grace's spell continuedd to be working. It was wordless, of that Lynx was sure, and Grace was still determined to carry it out. There was still somewhat of a smug expression on her face as she gasped for the air that wouldn't come. And it was then that Lynx realized that Grace thought she would definitely not be killed. Still, Lynx continued to hold the spell until finally Grace couldn't remain conscious without air, and she fainted. Still, though, the glow around James grew brighter, and the spell wasn't stopping. She heard Tyler try Finite Incatatem, but it didn't work. Lynx only knew one other way to stop spells. It was without hesitation that she held her own, not stopping to reflect on what she was doing or if it was right or wrong. Because there was absolutely nothing wrong with saving her baby's life. Nothing. Grace stopped breathing, and still Lynx held the spell. She was intentionally killing someone, draining the oxygen from her body until she could no longer sustain life. Four minutes and thirty-two seconds later, she lowered her wand, only after the orange glow started to disappear around her son. A spell would be broken if the caster was dead. |
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| Tyler Rubin | Oct 28 2009, 09:27 PM Post #9 |
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It was oddly jarring, the image of orange and anger- their hatred, fear, and fury pouring out of them together, besides the bright crucifixes, and the calm glow of flickering candles. Tyler was shaking. He wasn't able to quell it, go still and silent, figure out and think logically about the situation. He couldn't feel it at all any longer. It seemed to him the natural bond that sprung up between him and Lynx in intensely emotional situations was literally making them one. They were united, in violence and darkness as she raised her wand and cast the spell. A normal person might have expected a quick and painless Avada Kedavra, but right that moment? Tyler wasn't really his own person; he was fully aware of what Lynx intended to do. He tried the spell first-- tried to end whatever Grace had cast, but it didn't work. It didn't work, and honestly, he'd known it wouldn't. He'd started to feel what was going to happen. He'd figured it out; he went straight to James' side, picked him up through the tears and the screaming as Grace fell away from them both under the light of Lynx's spell. Lynx had always been entirely adament on her mantra of no-killing. It wasn't even no murder, it was no killing, and Tyler was very aware of the difference. He'd admired her so much for it; lately, he'd been struggling with the impulse. When you learn that Faustus Severio has your seventeen year old sister, there's an immediate impulse for murder. When you hear one of your best friends had been torn apart by some thing in the heart of a maze trying to kill you all, there's that impulse. When you're trapped between life and death on the deck of a cruise ship and picked off pointlessly in that Christie sense of a haunting one-by-one, there was that impulse. He'd lost his mind over it. A few times, really. He'd lost his mind, and he'd wanted to rip those people apart for what they'd done; for their lives of mayhem and chaos that constantly ripped peoples lives apart. For what they did to hurt those he loved, and for more than that? The general principle of what they were doing. He'd had it. It was that impulse that was now pouring every hated, furious emotion he'd had in the last six months into Lynx's wand arm, matching hers. He could see Grace convulsing, though she never did stop smiling, though he covered James' eyes; it made him smile. Just the tiniest bit. He could see her twisting and choking, deprived as she was of air, and that wasn't what was horrifying him. What was horrifying him was the look on Lynx's face. She had twisted from the resolute Head Auror -- no killing under any circumstances -- to a beautifully dangerous mother, fighting for her child. She was radiant in her fury, the shock in his own expression no match for the sharp and jagged features she wore. She didn't look like Lynx; she looked like someone else entirely. Someone intoxicating and terrifying. She'd wanted to rip Grace apart, and she was doing that. Ripping air from her lungs, collapsing body parts as they lost oxygen, tearing her life from her from the inside out. Grace was in the same pain Lynx was, only physically, and he honestly didn't care what Grace was going through. He cared about what Lynx was going through. However necessary killing her might be, there might have been another way to get James out of that spell now. Wake Grace up, tie her up, Veritaserum? Lock her away forever? Logic wasn't present, though. Hatred was. Fury and violence was. He could feel that dark cloud hanging over them both, enveloping them in that pain. Not insconsequentially, he could feel how much it was hurting Lynx to do this, and not without reason, he could feel the death that was pressing closer and closer for Grace. He assumed the expression on his own face had twisted that way; sharp, without feeling, hurt for the action fading away into the gray matter. Black. He just stared at her, as Grace collapsed, dead. His eyes were on Lynx's, because the moment she succeeded, James stopped crying. His lungs gave out over it, and he quieted against Tyler. There were tears sparkling in his eyes still, but Tyler's face was stone. It was cold, and there was a breath of relief from himself as he took a step over to her and wordlessly handed her their one year old. He didn't look at the woman on the floor. They had James back. And after all of that, that was what mattered to him. Even as he handed the quieter, bouncing on his hip boy over to her, he kept his hand on James' shoulder. He kept his other hand on Lynx's arm, tucking his own wand away. There hadn't been a reason to speak before. Not about the revelations of who was behind the ball, not about what the hell Grace had been twisting in her words to their son, not even about what it was Grace had revealed about who had ordered this. And oddly enough, there didn't seem to be reason too right now. Right now, James was safe and he was with them and Tyler wanted to do nothing but wrap his arms around both his son and wife and take them both home. He couldn't, he supposed, leave the woman there. The fact of how cold, and how dark he felt, and how he knew she had to feel was legitimately scaring him a little bit. Giving into that impulse, it transpired, was not a good thing. With a low and dry growl dying away in his throat, he breathed another sigh of relief and pulled them both closer, turning away so none of them were looking at Grace. None of them. It was over. They had James. "Let's just go home. We can call the French authorities, come in ourselves later. After. Let's just go home. " It was quiet, and it was firm, but for the first time in ten minutes, it was not unfeeling. Because he wasn't going to see Lynx put in prison for finally giving that bitch what she deserved. Edited by Tyler Rubin, Oct 28 2009, 09:51 PM.
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![]() ..happiness is or is happiness a little more like knocking on your door, & you just let it in? | |
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| Lynx Rubin | Oct 31 2009, 02:42 PM Post #10 |
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Resident Matchmaker
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It was only after it was done that Lynx realized what happened. She had killed someone. Grace Boheme, formerly her trainee, now the dead psychotic woman who had kidnapped her son, was dead. She tried to breathe in, but as she looked at the body, the expanding of her lungs was shaky, at best. Lynx had seen dead bodies before. Unfortunately, it was not as rare as she would like in her line of work. There was something different, though, about knowing she was the one who had taken the life. She had held her wand in her hands and deliberately decided to go against everything she believed in. She had played God - or whatever it was one wanted to call the higher power - and taken it upon herself to decide on a death. It was just so wrong. There could have been other ways. She could have tried to stun Grace, or tie her up and interrogate her... But she had chosen to kill. This was worse - so much worse - than the time she had killed Graham Brant in self defense, the incident That was a natural reaction, done from instinct by her empathy as her body's way of keeping herself alive. This.... She hadn't killed. She had murdered. Although she practically felt numb, tears stinging her eyes with remorse for what she had done, she still felt when Tyler's arm wrapped around her, and she turned into him, sliding her arms around both of them, hugging her family to her. Still, she knew what was behind her. The body of a woman who would never get a fair trial or a chance to serve out a prison sentence, the body of a woman who, no matter how twisted, had still lived, breathed and deserved that life. The life that Lynx had taken away from her. She shook her head, the movement heavy with the weight of what she had done. "I can't just go home, Tyler." Her voice was dry and soft. "I want to - believe me, I want nothing more in the world than to just go home with you and James. But I can't." Lynx drew in another long, shaky breath. "I have to wait here while we call the French authorities. It's their jurisdiction, yes, but she committed crimes in our country too and... and I have to stay so they can take a statement and probably take me in for questioning before they can determine anything." She sighed. "I know it'll probably come down to the fact that I'm an Auror and am licensed to stop criminals in the defense of others by any necessary means as long as an Unforgivable isn't used." She knew her rights well. "But they still have to investigate first, and I'm still... I'm still at fault here. So I can't go home yet." She shook her head. "No one is above the law. No one. Grace wasn't, and I'm not either," she said, voice cracking with emotion. "Whether they think it's worth seeing to trial as a crime of passion" -- she wasn't, after all, supposed to be working on this case because of conflict of interest, which had most likely clouded her judgment -- "or they decide that I'm covered under what Aurors are licensed to do, it's still their call to make. Not mine." She pulled back slightly and turned away, once again seeing the lifeless woman on the floor. "I should have to face what I did." |
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| Tyler Rubin | Oct 31 2009, 09:21 PM Post #11 |
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Seeing the pain crack fresh against Lynx's face, Tyler's own features twisted a little. He was holding them both, her head shaking against his chest. She was speaking as he supposed she should; every word was spoken in a heavy tone, remorse and regret already coating her words thickly as her Auror instincts and values took over. He knew how this went. They'd bring them in for questioning, and she'd explain the spell had been killing their son, that there was no way of getting it to stop. That she hadn't cast Avada Kedavra was a huge benefit for her, as she'd been attempting another way to get Grace off of James. It had gone too far, yes. Grace was dead, yes. She'd end up in trial just as she said, forced to justify what he'd already forgiven her for, and he understood. He understood why she wanted to. He knew she had to face it, that they both did. The regret seeping forth from her as he held her, however, was more than enough to color her actions. There was no jury in their right mind that would think of convicting the Head Auror acting in defense as she killed an apparently much-sought after murderer; no jury in their right mind would convict a mother who was watching their son tortured. He knew it wasn't that that bothered her. She had to forgive herself. And he already had. It was more than that, however. He didn't care. His priorities were firmly on bringing the three of them home, giving James his bed back, crawling into his own bed with her, refusing to let her go. Where she was filled with regret, Tyler had none. Was there something wrong with him, that he just truly didn't care? Grace hadn't, apparently, just been killing their son. She'd organized the Black and White Ball? Murdered David Arquette? A glimmer of understanding about the ball clicked into place; the catering company. He'd used to go there in France, it was the one Bridgette owned. Grace had been there frequently. How had he never... That bitch. David had been one of his good friends. He'd helped him out when he'd first been in France, he'd gone to his wedding. And Emily...what were they supposed to go tell Emily? They found who had killed him, and she would never ask Grace why. She would never face the woman who'd killed her husband. A logical part of Tyler's brain knew Emily would never have been up to it, but logic was not ruling Tyler for once in his life. Emotion was. And the emotion pouring out of Lynx, through him, the remorse and regret for her actions, coupled with everything Grace had done...he honestly felt sick. He wanted to bring her home. That was all he wanted to do. He turned and murmured to Lynx very firmly, "Yes. That's their call to make on the legal side point. But they aren't going to find you at fault for anything. You didn't use an Unforgiveable. You tried to get her to back down in other ways; she ignored you. And she had...James, she.." His voice cracked for a second as he looked down after her and then added as firmly as ever, "I forgive you." And honestly, he did. They would wait for the authorities, because as much as Tyler wanted to bring James home, he wasn't leaving either of them out of his sight, and Lynx was set on seeing them. After a statement and questions, they released them pending a formal hearing, he presumed and they both would go home. |
![]() ..happiness is or is happiness a little more like knocking on your door, & you just let it in? | |
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