Chapter Six - And Yet So Far
He awoke in dark silence, sensing rather than seeing Sirius's steady presence somewhere nearby. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing there, but his head hurt like nothing he had ever experienced before, so he didn't open his eyes, didn't even move.
"Padfoot?" he called, and he felt a warm, rough hand against his own. "What the hell happened? Did we go out drinking again?"
"Not exactly," Sirius replied with a biting laugh. "You're at St. Mungo's this time."
"Again?" James groaned and laid his arm against his forehead; even that hurt, for it was by far the worst headache he had ever had. "I hate waking up in hospitals all the time."
"You do seem to spend an unusual amount of time in these lovely places," Sirius said, and James could not miss the dry sarcasm in his friend's voice. "You should do something about that."
"Like what?" James asked. "Never leave the house?"
"It's a start." There was silence, and James chanced opening his eyes. The dim light of his hospital room burned, and he squinted as his eyes adjusted. Sirius handed him his glasses, but the room still seemed a bit blurry until he blinked a few times.
"Thanks. Now I'll ask again--what happened? Or have I gone back in time to Christmas?"
"You were attacked," Sirius began, and James snorted because that much was obvious. He ignored the unusually sober tone to his friend's voice.
"Who did it this time? Was anyone hurt?"
"Yes, you," said Sirius. "And it was your new friend Iain Travers."
James struggled to turn his head toward the sound of Sirius's voice, though his entire body felt sore. "From the restaurant?"
"Ah, you remember that much, at least." Sirius was sitting in a chair next to his bed, arms crossed over his chest, his legs kicked out in front of him. "Do you know what day it is?"
"It's--" James trailed off. He remembered the battle at the restaurant, remembered the meeting the next day: everything else was a blank. "It's Tuesday?" he asked, knowing he was probably wrong and beginning to feel nervous deep in the pit of his stomach.
"No," replied Sirius. "It's Friday. Which means we've spent the last three days waiting for you to get up off your arse and remember what the hell happened." He raised an eyebrow. "And you missed Valentine's Day."
"I did?" James whispered. "But I don't remember anything."
Sirius stood and started pacing; he was obviously agitated about something, though James was at a loss to guess what, since he couldn't remember anything that had happened for the past three days.
"Fortunately for you," Sirius said, now standing at the foot of the bed, "it isn't unusual for someone in your state to forget what put them in the hospital. So I'll tell you." He took a deep breath and plunged on. "You left the Order meeting on Tuesday night with Evans. You walked her back to her flat. You were attacked. You hit your head. Evans saved your arse. Moony helped. You've been out of it ever since."
James stared at him, at first a bit too stunned to reply--both to the grim news and the tone of voice Sirius delivered it in. It was almost as if Sirius were angry with James for not remembering, when clearly he had been injured fairly badly. Then his own misplaced anger surfaced, and he struggled to sit up. Sirius watched him with a skeptical smirk on his face, until James gave up and glared right back from his pillows.
"Why are you so pissed off at me?" he finally demanded. "It's not like I knocked myself out."
"No, you didn't knock yourself out," Sirius snapped. "You took a blow to the head that put you in a coma for the three days. A coma, James. Not just a few Stunners this time."
"It's not my fault," James started, but Sirius cut him off, his anger too hot.
"You could have died, Prongs. Dead. Gone." He started pacing again. "Do you know what it's been like, waiting for you to open your eyes, give us some sort of sign that you were even still in there? Do you?"
"Dammit, Sirius, stop acting like I did it on purpose!" James exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I don't even remember what happened--"
"You were injured," said a voice at the doorway. "That's enough for now."
James's father stood there, and he looked ten years older than he had when James had gone to visit the house before the meeting. Had he done this to his father, aged him so quickly? Was he just as angry as Sirius, only keeping it inside for the moment?
"Welcome back to the land of the living, son," Harrington said as he came into the room. He still walked tall and strong, but his face was so haggard--he must not have closed his eyes for three days. All while James lay in bed, doing nothing but sleeping. He suddenly understood why Sirius was so upset--he saw the answer in his father's face--and felt a terrible guilt for putting them through such a thing.
"I'm sorry," he started, but his father waved him off as he came to stand beside Sirius, placing a hand on Sirius's arm as if to calm him.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, James," he said. "In spite of what this one here might have to say about it. It's just his way of letting you know he was pretty damn worried about you."
Sirius tried to give Harrington Potter a withering look, but the older man stared him down until Sirius looked away, blowing out his breath with a laugh. "Okay, fine. I was worried. I didn't mean to take it out on you." He grinned then, suddenly back to normal. "But wait until Evans gets a hold of you."
"Lily?" asked James, and bits of that night started to come back. "I remember walking out with her…is that when it happened?"
His father nodded, and James sat up straighter in spite of the pounding in his head. "Merlin's beard, is she all right? Where is she? Was she hit? Did she--"
He was cut off from any more rambling by his father, who actually waved his hand to get James's attention. "She's fine, James. She's perfectly safe."
"Then where is she? Can I see her?" He stopped as a vague half memory started to form. "Or does she not want to see me again?" He had kissed her. He remembered that now. He had kissed her and turned away, and that's when he had been hit.
He almost laughed out loud at the utter ridiculousness of it: it was as if the universe had punished him for daring to try again. When neither his father nor Sirius replied, James let himself fall back against the pillows. "Of course she doesn't want to see me," he muttered. "She's made that clear three times now. Never mind."
He didn't miss the look that his father flashed at Sirius; he knew exactly why Sirius coughed and began to back toward the door. "I'll let the Healers know you're awake, Prongs. They'll want to poke and prod you a bit, I expect."
"Brilliant," James replied under his breath, not really caring. His father was silent until Sirius left, then sat down in the chair next to the bed and leaned forward.
"Lily saved your life out there," he started. James immediately stopped him.
"Are you trying to make me feel guilty too? Look, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was injured and that I couldn’t protect her and that everyone had to sit around for three days and worry and that--"
"Stop babbling, James," said his father, his voice unusually stern. "Just let me finish."
James shrugged in response, feeling very much like a sullen, young teenager again.
"Lily did extremely well out there, James. And I heard that she fought admirably at the restaurant with you." He paused, as if thinking about his words. "She's had a bit of an induction by fire into your Order, James. She's handled it with great strength, all things considered."
"Why are you telling me all this?" James asked, confused and begrudging at the same time. He knew his father was right, yet couldn't understand what he was working toward.
"My point is that Lily seems a bit overwhelmed right now. I think she needs some time to think things through."
"Think what through?" James shook his head, but it hurt, and he swore under his breath that a movement he had always taken for granted would cause such pain. "And how do you know all this?"
"I talked with her," Harrington replied honestly. "About quite a number of things, including you. She's spent most of the last three days in here waiting for you to wake up. I finally sent her home this morning."
James knew there was more and waited for it. If Lily had talked to his father, had she told him they had kissed? Had she told him she didn't want to see James again? Was that why she wasn't there now, talking to James?
"She seems a bit confused, son." His father sighed. "I think she probably needs some time."
James just stared at his father as if he had grown another head. The implication was clear: don't talk to Lily, don't even think about her. For his entire life, Harrington Potter had been supportive of James…and now, for some reason, James felt like that was gone, lost.
Sirius had yelled at him almost as soon as he had regained consciousness, and now his dad was telling him to give Lily some time--obviously time away from him. Though he knew it was a childish thought, James couldn't help but feel picked on. He was lying in a hospital bed yet again, and they were giving him nothing but a hard time.
And to top it off, he was supposed to forget about Lily for now. Apparently kissing her again had been a mistake; he was beginning to think the same thing about joining the Order.
"Dad, I'm tired," he said abruptly, and he rolled over, turning away. "I think I'll sleep some more, let my head recover."
His dad stood to leave. "Rest easy, James," he said from the doorway. "But don't get too worked up. It's not what you think."
James heard the door close behind him and screwed his eyes shut to both block out the light and hold back the tears. He was alive, he would recover: what did he have to be upset about? He should be grateful to be doing so well after such a serious injury.
He might not remember what had happened, but he remembered kissing Lily, and he remembered the look on her face when he had. He had asked Lily a question, and it was obvious now the answer was no.
Again.
* * *
He did not see her the rest of that day, nor did she come see him the next. He did spend quite a bit of time sleeping--when various Healers weren't constantly checking on him, testing his eyes and his ears and his reflexes, even a bit of his magic. It was possible she had stopped by while he was asleep, but he doubted it, and he felt his mood sink lower and lower.
Just about everyone else came to see him--Sirius, Remus, Peter, even Dumbledore and a few other members of the Order. Frank Longbottom poked his head in to let him know they had captured and questioned one of their attackers, a man named Felix Gibbon. Apparently Voldemort was extremely upset that his plot at the restaurant had not gone as planned, and he blamed James and Lily as the first ones there.
James asked him if Lily were safe, and Frank nodded, telling him she had refused Order protection but was aware of the risk when she went out. James asked about Gideon as well, and Dorcas Meadowes, who had killed one of the Death Eaters in the restaurant. Gideon was on alert, and Dorcas was safe at home, still recovering; Caradoc spent as much time as he could standing guard for now.
James slept after that, and when he woke, Remus was there, sitting in the chair and reading the Daily Prophet. He smiled as James sat up, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Good morning," said Remus, sounding far too upbeat considering the situation. James gave him a withering look, and Remus laughed.
"It can't possibly be morning," James grumbled. "It was just lunch time."
"You're right," he replied cheerfully. "It's almost time for dinner. Even you can't sleep that long."
"I'm bored, that's all," James replied, as if Remus were accusing him of being lazy. "I want to get out of here."
"I think you'll be free to go in the morning," Remus said. "At least, that's what Lily said."
"She was here?" James demanded. "When?"
He was fairly certain his friend's eyes were twinkling and hated Remus for it. "She was here most of the afternoon. You were sleeping quite soundly--peaceful as a baby, really."
"Why didn't you wake me?" James asked, almost groaning at having missed her, and slightly embarrassed to know she had been watching him sleep. He was fairly certain he'd had a nightmare about the night he had been hit, as if the memory was trying to make itself known through his dreams.
"She knows how important it is for your to rest and recover." He shrugged; apparently he did not want to talk about her, just like his father. "There's someone else who would like to see you, though."
James frowned. "Who?"
"Orsino is awake." Remus stood and moved toward the bed. "If you're up to it, we can walk down there."
James just stared at him, strangely reluctant. He had asked after the Squib owner several times and was glad to know he was recovering and even awake now. Yet he wasn't sure he wanted to see him; really, he simply wanted to get out of St. Mungo's as soon as possible and hide out at home until his headache went away…as well the countless number of confusing thoughts and feelings continuously coursing through his body, including his growing sense of guilt.
"I don’t feel up to it," he grumbled, closing his eyes and hoping Remus would let it drop. Moody's words at the meeting came back to him, that the attack at the restaurant shouldn't have happened in the first place. They should have stopped it. The logical part of his brain knew this was wrong, that they had done the best they could with the information they had known--Dumbledore had even said so--yet he couldn't help still thinking it, feeling it. Moody had planted the idea, and now, faced with actually seeing Orsino after the man had lost so much in the attack, James felt his guilt even more. He embraced it, because it felt like the right thing to do: it was his fault--all of it, including the attack on him and Lily.
Sometimes Remus was uncannily perceptive. He looked down at James with an understanding look on his tired face; had he been as worried as Sirius, as his father? "It's not your fault," Remus said. "What happened at the restaurant, to Orsino--none of it."
James shrugged his answer, and Remus sighed as if frustrated.
"It's not. Don’t mind what Moody said, he was being an arse. You know that, even Dumbledore called him on it." His voice took on an insistent tone. "I've already talked to Lily about this, and I don't want to go through it again. It wasn't your fault."
James finally met his eyes and gave him a challenging look in return. "It's my fault I'm lying here in bed. My fault Lily doesn't want to talk to me. Did you talk to her about that?"
Remus's face darkened; it was the "James-you're-being-a-prat" look he knew so well from school. "As a matter of fact, no, I didn't. But that's just about the biggest pile of rubbish I've heard from you in a while. How is this your fault?"
"They were getting back at us for what happened in the restaurant," James replied evenly. "Dumbledore even said it might happen. And maybe if I'd been paying more attention that night, I would have seen something, or heard something--could have done something, instead of just getting myself knocked out."
Remus was nodding slowly, though he was no longer frowning; James could tell his friend was exasperated. "So never mind that it was dark and snowing, or that you were exhausted and ambushed--it's still your fault you were attacked by Death Eaters. How again?"
"I kissed her!" James exclaimed, feeling like he needed to confess it. Remus didn't look surprised, so Lily must have told him. James wondered what she had said, but put it from his mind as he pressed on. "If I hadn't let my thoughts run away with thinking that I maybe, just maybe, might have had another chance with her, I might have stopped the attack from happening, could have protected her…what is it?"
Remus was smirking, which he did not do very often; that was more of Sirius's specialty. "Lily came out of it far better than you did, Prongs," he pointed out.
"Don't remind me," James said, rolling his eyes.
"So it's not your head that's hurt so much as your pride?" asked Remus, sounding as innocent as possible. James shook his head, though it still hurt to do so, and he grimaced.
"No, that's not it at all. I'm grateful for what she did, really. It was amazing. It's just…" He flailed his arms in the air, unable to articulate in the end what it was: it was that confusing. In short, he felt like a failure, but it was much more complicated than that.
Remus placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll figure it out. I know you will."
"If she ever talks to me," James muttered.
"She's not avoiding you," Remus started, but James stopped him.
"My dad said she needed time to think. To think about what? What a prat I've been? Again? Why do I keep doing this?" He let his head sink back against the pillows, eyes closed. He wasn't really expecting an answer, but after a moment, Remus spoke.
"Because you love her."
"It doesn't matter anymore. I could have got us both killed."
Remus was silent for a long time. James opened one eye and saw Remus studying him very pensively. "What?" he demanded again, feeling defensive.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself." Remus marched over to the side of the bed and pulled off the covers. "Get up. We're going to see Orsino. You're going to let him thank you for what you did at the restaurant. You're going to accept his gratitude. You're going to walk about and get some fresh air, and then in the morning you are going to go home and start putting your head back on straight."
He literally started to pull James out of bed. James stumbled a bit, his head still pounding. When he put his hand to his temple to quell the insistent throbbing, Remus stopped and handed him a goblet. "Here. Take this. The Healers said it would help with the pain. But they also said you are perfectly fine and need to get out of bed."
"I doubt it," James said, but he took the goblet and gulped it down. He glanced around for a robe and nodded his thanks as Remus handed him something to cover himself with.
"You're right--I'm the one who says you need to get out of bed. You hit your head, you didn't break a leg. Let's go." Remus turned away and opened the door; his face was set.
"Tough love, Moony," James murmured as he followed obediently into the hallway.
"It's only because I care," Remus returned. "About both of you."
James did not completely understand Remus's cryptic remark, but walked slowly down the corridor to see Orsino anyway. He was a bit sluggish and somewhat dizzy at times, but it did feel good to get out of bed and out of his room. He felt his anxiety begin to subside and guessed the goblet had held a bit of Calming Draught as well as a basic pain potion. He was glad: it took the edge from his guilt and allowed him to see that Remus was right.
He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself before he could get his head on straight again and try, once more, to move on.
* * *