Nowhere But Here

The first thing he knew was pain. Before he could drag his mind from the darkness, before his ragged consciousness could even register that there was a “he” to hurt, he knew pain.

Awareness of everything else came slowly. The pain sharpened from a general haze that enveloped his whole body into specific points of agony. One of his legs felt as if it had been thoroughly chewed and probably half-digested by a dragon. He could feel the blood seeping slowly on the areas not covered by a scalding burn. His back ached fiercely, protesting at the way he was lying and at existence in general. It was his head that bothered him most, though. Sharp bolts of lightening lanced through his brain, which seemed to be wrapped in layers of ice-cold cotton wool. He wanted to close his eyes and return to the darkness that was, if not exactly comforting, at least oblivious. Or were his eyes already closed? He couldn't tell. Thinking hurt. Thinking hurt more than it normally did, Sirius thought with ridiculous mirth, and another piece of awareness returned.

He was Sirius. That was right. Fuck, I'd like to be anyone else right now. He was Sirius. He held onto that fuzzy thought as if it were a life-raft. What the fuck happened? Where the fuck am I? No-one seemed to want to answer his questions. Typical. It seemed he'd have to do some more thinking if he wanted the answers. He was somewhere dark. Or he had his eyes closed. Genius, Sirius, pure genius. But no – even the world behind his eyelids was pitch black. Somewhere dark, then. That didn't rule out any obvious possibilities, but left the way open for a whole slew of unpleasant ones. He was lying on something hard and uneven. Rocks, by the feel of them. Not a bed in a luxurious love-suite, then. Damn. That had been one of the good dark possibilities. But someone had tried to make the hardness less hard by cushioning it with a cloak. Didn't work. So probably not a dragon's digestive system, then. That had been one of the bad dark possibilities.

There were strange feelings of pressure against his leg, and his chest, and one hand, and his head. His brain took some time to figure these out. Bandages. But they were cold and damp with… with blood, he supposed. His blood. Fuck. There was something relatively soft under his head. Relatively soft to rocks. His body had been covered by another cloak, but he was cold and clammy anyway. Wherever he was, it was not a Nice Place. But it seemed it was not a Bad Place as it might have been, either. In the background, there was a sudden sound, both soft and sharp at the same time. Sirius couldn't identify it. Alright Sirry-boy. Time to bite the bullet. Time to open your eyes.

It took him a minute to work out where his eyes were, and then another minute to remember how to open them. His thoughts were moving through thick jelly. Blackcurrant jelly, the kind he had always hated. Finally, he gathered all his strength and forced his heavy lids open a crack. Light, bright as a midwinter fire, blared through his brain. Agony was a polite way to describe it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. And did I mention fuck?

He didn't mean to groan. It could hardly have been called a groan at any rate. A groan would have sounded more lively. This was a faint ugnph of air being forced out of his lungs at the sheer pain of existing, but it seemed to have attracted the attention of… someone. Sirius didn't know who. He didn't particularly care, either, unless the person was going to put out the fire which now danced behind his eyes. Another of the strange, sharply soft sounds in the background. A pause. Footsteps. Sirius tensed and held his breath. Because self-asphyxiation will help matters greatly. Good job, Sirius.

Keep back! he thought desperately, but unless the person was an occulemencor, he doubted his effort would do much good. Damn. Did I have to remind myself of occulemencors? Think about – pumpkins. Pumpkin juice. Yes. I am only thinking about pumpkins, d'y'hear? No good to Moldy Voldy, pumpkins. Don't know anything about an Order. Except an order of pumpkins. Pumpkinpumpkinpumpk–

His train of defensive thinking was interrupted by a soft touch against his cheek, and a murmur of sounds he recognized as a voice. It was a familiar touch, and a familiar voice. Recognition went through him like an electric shock and his eyelids flew open of their own accord.

“Remus.” It would have been charitable to have called it a croak. It was the faintest of whispers, wrenched from his torn and parched throat. Sirius wanted to laugh in joy and relief. Moony was there. Things couldn't be as bad as he'd feared, if Moony was there. The red stars that blossomed and burst behind his eyes suddenly seemed rather

festive.“Remus,” he tried again. It sounded a little better, this time.

“Sirius…” Now, why did his Moony's voice sound like that? Sirius frowned, invented a rather creative blasphemy at the resulting pain, and focused his eyes on Remus's face.

“What's…wrong?” he managed hoarsely. Talking required so much effort. I am going to have to convince Moony to learn occulemency when I get out of here.

Was that Moony laughing at him? It didn't sound like a very happy laugh, though. It sounded choked and gasping, as if Remus would cry if he didn't laugh. Great big dragon-sized butterflies of panic stirred in Sirius's stomach.

“Moony… you okay? Did they hurt…you?” Occulemency. I'm going to write it on a to-do list so I won't forget.

No answer, only more soft, gasping laughter that sounded on the verge of hysterical. Moony didn't get hysterical. Fear gripped him. He struggled to roll over, to sit up, to do something. Gentle hands held him down.

“Remus?”

“I'm ok, Sirius,” Moony said quietly. “I'm fine.”

Sirius's brain digested this. “Bastard,” he muttered when it finished. “Don't scare me…like that.”

The red haze cleared enough that he could see a smile start on Remus's face. Fuck, he loved that smile. But Moony looked annoyed, too.

“You're a fine one to lecture me on scaring you,” Remus said mildly. Sirius knew him well enough to know that the mildness was deceiving. When Remus was mild, he wanted you to think about why he was being mild. Sirius's brain protested at that. He didn't want to think. Thinking hurt. Everything hurt. Ohhh…

“I'm…fine,” said Sirius, as convincingly as he could manage. It was hard when his brain felt as though it had been pumped full of doxie powder.

Remus continued to look at him. Mildly.

“Fine,” grumbled Sirius. “I feel… like someone used me… for bludger practice… and kept practicing… till they got it perfect. Ow.”

Remus was kneeling beside him in a heartbeat, hands gentle against Sirius's face.

“I was so worried,” he said softly.

It was only then that Sirius noticed that Remus was bare-chested. That was clear proof that there was something wrong with his head, Sirius thought muzzily, for him to have taken this long to realise that Remus was shirtless. But now that he noticed it, he couldn't take his eyes off his Moony's chest – there were angry red scratches up one side and a vivid purple bruise down the other.

“What happened?” he asked, voice starting to slur. It hurt to keep his eyes open and focused, too. He sighed and let them slide shut. Remus's hands stroking his forehead felt so good. It was the only thing that did.

“They knew we were coming,” Remus said grimly.

Sirius waited while the relevant thoughts struggled to the surface of his brain. “Couldn't have,” he mumbled.

Remus shook his head. “That's what I thought, Sirius. But there can be no other explanation. They weren't just ready for us – they were waiting. We walked straight into an ambush.”

“Who?” The edges of his thoughts were becoming fuzzy with darkness and Sirius welcomed it.

“The only people who knew about our plans were people we trust, Sirius.”

Sirius knew that. He couldn't see Remus's point, though.

“Sirius?” Remus definitely sounded worried now.

He worries too much. It's bad for his health. I'm going to make a note to let him know. “Mmphgm?”

“Don't go to sleep, Sirius – Sirius, do you hear me? You have to stay awake – James will be here in a few hours. You have to stay awake, Pads. Sirius!”

The world was spinning in a sickening way, and Sirius swallowed, hard. Cold sweat drenched his skin, and he could feel his pulse beating fast and shallow in the hollow of his throat. His leg throbbed and burned and his whole body ached and he was quite sure that the bandage wrapped around his head was the only thing keeping it in one piece. He moaned softly, then tried to take it back because he knew he was worrying his Moony. A jumbled voice faded in and out of hearing without him being able to understand a single word. Something wet and cool trailed across his forehead and his face, but that made him thrash wildly, because it felt like blood running down his cheeks. He was being pinned down now, by two strong, unmoving hands. Sirius struggled against them, weakly at first, because his limbs were tired and trembly, but then with increasing desperation as he found he couldn't get free.

Let me go! Get your hands off me you'll be sorry for this you filthy Death-eaters if I have to die and haunt you for eternity to get you back for this I will don't think you can keep me down forever let go of me!

It was getting harder to breathe – he didn't know if that was his captor's doing or not. He had to fight to suck in each lungful of air, and the world behind his eyelids was no longer black but red and filled with explosions so bright that they burned themselves into his vision. Sirius steeled himself and made one last, desperate effort to get free. He thrashed against the hands that restrained him and then darkness came with the suddenness of an extinguished candle as he smashed his head against the hard rock beneath him.

___

He woke suddenly, but he was aware from the first spark of consciousness that he wasn't to move, or the dull pain that thrummed in his skull would flare into an explosion of agony. His breathing was slow and shallow, as if his body knew of the impending pain too. I wish I could turn off the 'pain' switch. He thought about that for awhile. I wish I could go back to sleep. But… someone had told him not to. Remus. Remus is always right. Even when he makes no sense. I think I should listen to Remus. He could feel the dark creeping back, though. His already fuzzy thoughts were getting fuzzier. There was nothing solid in the world, nothing he could hold on to.

It would be so easy to let go.

I won't, you filthy goatlover, get out of my head!

Sirius turned his head away. It was only the tiniest of movements. He barely moved a millimetre, but it was enough to start the avalanche of pain inside his head. He couldn't move, or make a sound, or even breathe. There was nothing in his skull but fire and agony, but he welcomed it because there was no more room for the voice, either. All he could do was like perfectly still – deadly still – until, an eternity later, the pain ebbed and receded to a more bearable level.

Still hurts. Think about something distracting. Not pumpkins. Not distracting enough.

His mind was too scattered for thought, though. All he could do was lie unmoving, not knowing if time was passing at all, or if he was in a place where there was no time. His senses were slow to return. Firstly came touch, and the strange, solid feeling of existence. He thought that sight might have been next, but he couldn't find the strength to open his eyes, so he couldn't be sure. A long time later came hearing, the muted roar of the blood in his head dying down enough that he could make out the noises of the world around him.

Bloody silent world.

Faintly in the distance was the drip…drip…dripdrip of water. Sirius tried to measure time by it, straining to hear each liquid drip as it fell. Will the water dry up before I finish counting?

Another sound in the darkness. A soft intake of breath, a moment of tension, and then “Ihhkisxch!”

I need to count more slowly. Bad things would happen if the water stopped dripping before he finished counting the drops. One. Two. Three.

Not a minute later, “Hehh…ktssch! Hehtschh!”

Four. There used to be four of us. Are there still four of us, Remus? Are we still an “us”, or have we all become “I” and “They”?

A sharper gasp, sounding more desperate, “Hah…hahTSXCHH! Huh…huh…” A moment that lasted for eternity in at least two universes, then “HahIKXCHOO!”

We will always be an “us”, won't we Remus? Even if everyone becomes a “They”, we will be an “us”. We must, Remus, because for me there is no “I”. It has to be “us”, or nothing.

The sound of a soft sniffle, almost childlike, as if someone wanted a handkerchief and hadn't got one.

Will you promise never to forsake me, Remus? Not for the promise of riches or power. Not for the words and slander of others. Oh, Moony. You'd never believe a lie about me, would you? You wouldn't. You know me too well.

A sigh and another sniffle, louder this time.

If you did, Moony… If you believed their lies about me. I would have to believe them too.

Without time even for a build-up, “HAHTSCHH! HAHTSCHH!”

But I'm sorry, I was counting. Five. Six… D'you remember that time in Arithmancy when we put that HoaxUs spell on Snivellus's inkpot, and no matter what calculations he did, the ink always rearranged itself into a wrong answer? Not that the slimy git would have gotten them right in the first place. He couldn't even calculate the number of spots on his nose. Mind you, that would have taken some counting to work out.

Another sniff, a lot wetter this time, and audible, shallow breathing.

Seven. Seven years. And now this. Can you believe it, Remus? That they actually let us graduate? Well, not you of course. Prefect and everything. The only reason they wouldn't want to let you graduate is that they'd miss you too much. Did you ever imagine, when we were skinny little first years, that eight years and too many History of Magic classes later, we'd end up…here? In a dingy cave, hiding like rats, feeling as if being chewed up and spat out would actually be an improvement?

The hurried sound of a bag being search through, then a muffled “Hah…MPHGHH!”

I would have thought you were bonkers, if you'd told me this is where we'd be.

A slow, torturous intake of breath. Silence. A sigh as the breath was released.

I think I would have just given up on History of Magic altogether, if you'd told me. Fat lot of help the date of the Goblin Wars are now.

Another quivery gasp. And another, more desperate. Silence. A soft sound of urgency, almost a whimper.

But you know what, Moony. I'd never have guessed that I'd be in a dingy cave, hiding like a rat…with

you.Another build-up, vocalized this time from frantic need. “HUH! Hah…Haaahh… Ohh… please…” The last a broken whisper.

And I know I'm not exactly at my most rational at this point, but…so help me, I don't think I'd want to be anywhere else, Remus, but here…by your side.

Finally, “Haahhh… HAHITSCHOO! HAHIKSHOO! Huh…IHKXSHH! HahIXSCH! hahTSXCHH! HAHTSCHH! Haahh…Heh-MPHGHH!” A shaky breath, and then a long blow into a handkerchief, ending with a sniffle and a sigh.

Sirius forced his eyes open, but for the initial moment, there was nothing to be seen but swirls of red and

black.“Remus?” he whispered.

Remus made a soft sound of startlement. “Sirius?” His voice sounded awful; congested and scratchy and rough. “You're awake?”

“Bloody dumb…question, if you…ask me.”

Remus gave a snort of amusement, which reassured Sirius somewhat.

“You sound…bloody awful.”

“I sound bloody awful?” Remus said, heaping the four innocent words with such mildness that Sirius

winced.“Well, you do,” muttered Sirius stubbornly. “Are you…cold?”

“N-n… HahITKSCH!” A short sniffle. “No.”

The red haze cleared enough for Sirius to be able to make out Remus's form in the dimness. The angry red scratches on his side had grown redder and more swollen. There was a dark bruise and a lump on one cheekbone to match the spectacular bruise on his ribs, and his skin was mottled with cold…

“Fuck,” breathed Sirius.

“What's wrong?” Remus asked in concern. He waved dismissively at the glint Sirius's eyes. “What's wrong besides the obvious, I mean?”

He was a bloody stupid idiot, was what was wrong. Sirius closed his eyes and called himself five of the worst names he could dredge from his memory. No wonder Moony was cold. No wonder he was standing there in a chilly, damp cave with no shirt on. So, he wasn't doing it for your pleasure then. The thought was meant to be funny; it came out scathing. Remus had no shirt because he had most likely torn it up to bandage the cuts that criss-crossed Sirius's body. He had no jumper because there was something soft between Sirius's aching head and the rocky ground. He had no cloak because, wrapped tightly around Sirius, preserving what little warmth he had, was a makeshift blanket complete with red and gold crest on the inside corner.

“I'm an…idiot.”

Remus's eyes sparkled in amusement. “We figured that one out a long time ago, Pads.”

“Get under…the cloak with me.”

Remus shook his head, the stubborn git. “You need to keep still, Pads, and stay warm.”

“In that…case… I'm cold and… I need your hot… young body to… keep me warm.”

“Pads—”

“Don't have… the breath to… argue with you. But… I'll do it anyway… if you… don't do… what I say.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at him, looking at him disbelievingly for a moment. Then he sighed. “You bloody well would, too,” he said dryly. Moving carefully, favouring his torn side, he slowly stretched out beside Sirius and pulled part of the cloak around himself. His body was ice-cold next to Sirius's. It hurt too much to try and put an arm around him, but Sirius shifted as best as he could to press as much of his body as he could next to Remus. There was a quiet sigh of what was almost contentment.

They lay quietly for a long while. The silence punctuated only by the occasional soft sneeze from Remus, which jarred Sirius painfully each time, and which he pretended did not bother him at all. There was nothing to be said. James would be there soon. Sirius doubted he had the strength for any more words, at any rate. Occulemency. That's definitely the way to go.

But there was still something that had to be said.

“Wouldn't want…to be…anywhere else, Moony.”

Remus smiled, soft as summer rain. “You're raving, Sirius.” And kissed him with utmost gentleness on swollen lips.