[thd] & my heart is playing hide and seek [robin]

Nerys blinked. If it wasn't for the caption under the photo, she wasn't sure she would have recognized him. The man, smiling widely among a crowd of fellow performers, was looking up at her from a Daily Prophet clipping on the bulletin outside her office. She had walked by it a few times before noticing anything of interest there; a visit from performers to provide entertainment for the long-term patients, while a generous gesture, was hardly big news for a healer with a busy schedule and no time to stop. But a newer announcement, indicating a change in outtake form submissions, was pinned against it now, and Nerys' eyes had wandered just enough to catch sight of a too-familiar name: Robin. According to the small article, the performance had started twenty minutes ago.

She stood frozen for a minute, unsure. The pair hadn't spoken in -- what? A decade? Any hard feelings that might have sat with her back at Hogwarts were long-faded now, and replaced instead by a creeping curiosity. It was hard not to wonder what life might have been like, if things had been just a bit different, if she had taken another path. He looked happy enough in the photo; would he be happy to see her? She couldn't be sure. But just stepping in quietly to the back for a few minutes to see him might answer a few questions. He wouldn't have to know she was there.

Nerys half-dashed down to the rec room indicated in the article, slowing down anytime another healer she knew rounded a corner and offering a polite nod or half-smile before picking up speed again. What if it was only a short reading and she missed her chance? The room in question had long, rectangular windows in the double doors through which she could catch a glimpse of the patients and performers within. He was seated at a long table, and though he was reading from a script, she could tell he was invested in the performance.

A smile snuck sideways over her cheek. It wasn't that she had known what Robin was going to do with his life, where he would go, but she had always known he would find something he loved. If she was being honest, she hadn't heard of the particular radio show that the article had described, but she hardly had time to listen to the radio these days. It was probably quite famous.

After a final moment of hesitation, Nerys quietly pushed the swinging door open and slid into the room, perching delicately on the edge of a seat in the back. She had to be able to hear him to be able to confirm her suspicions that Robin had found something he was truly wonderful at.

@Robin Byrne-Davidson

This would be their tenth year. It didn’t feel impressive sometimes, probably because he wasn’t the one dealing with contracts and negotiations and the WWN, but for a project they’d expected to last a couple years at most, it was quite honestly a miracle. Auror Davis Pike had been solving mysteries for nine series (and three official comic books). The team had been able to take these characters to more ambitious places than they could’ve hoped. But there was also a very acute awareness in the writer’s room that there was a point at which their work would suffer. They all knew what happened when long runners got obnoxiously long and they had always had an intention to wrap things up satisfyingly and with dignity. And so they’d begun to discuss the idea of the upcoming series being their last.

They were going to go out in style, obviously. Pull out all the stops and make this the best work they’d ever done. This also included events, interviews, all manner of celebratory flamboyance. That was how Robin had ended up trying to soldier through the series premiere in a rec room at St. Mungo’s hospital instead of their usual studio.

There was no way he could’ve turned it down. It had been Gerald’s idea, and he had a niece who lived in a ward long-term after an unfortunate transfiguration experiment. Robin was already the most questionable member of the cast after his legal trouble and he couldn’t go about letting down the inhabitants of St. Mungo’s as well. Sharon, who understood his reluctance, had offered to go to bat for him. But he’d gone out of his way to make sure most of his colleagues didn’t know he’d spent the worst days of his life here, and if it killed him he was going to be professional.

It wasn’t that difficult once he got into things. On the way in a healer had recognized him and told him he looked well, which had shaken him mildly, but he’d replied politely and buried himself in the script. Putting on a show was what he was made for. Their audience, though silenced magically for integrity of the broadcast, applauded enthusiastically, especially when he'd switch voices. Everything went off without a hitch—which was why thankfully he noticed her only when the episode was finished. The sight got him tongue-tied in the worst way.

She was standing near the back of the room as the audience began to disperse. He stared at her. He knew he was staring, and he hated himself for it, but he’d spent so many nights thinking about her, so many hours sitting on a couch talking about what she’d meant to him, that he hardly believed she was real anymore.

His feet carried him dazedly, veering off from where the rest of the cast was packing up. Winding his way around chairs and shuffling figures in hospital gowns, he crossed the room and reached out to tap her arm.

Eye contact felt like a knock about the head. Robin tried to collect himself. “I always knew you’d make a good healer,” he said, giving her a small smile he he hoped would be an olive branch if he needed one.

It was better than she would have imagined. Even with the rapidly changing voices, carrying on a conversation between two of his own characters, she could hear a hint of the Robin she remembered. Maybe it was her imagination, but she felt sure now that she would have recognized him even without the caption. It was true that it had been many years since the two had met -- she was sure she looked quite different now herself, older and more tired than ever -- but there was something about his spirit that she could feel despite the years that had changed them. The most wonderful thing about sitting there, though, was not the waves of memories that washed over her but rather the satisfaction of seeing Robin do something so well. He was clearly an audience favorite, the clapping for all of his voice changes enthusiastic. He seemed so professional, unphased by the audience, and yet also like he was truly enjoying himself. Nerys wondered how it was possible that she hadn't heard of the show or of Robin's accomplishments before now, when he was clearly at least somewhat well-known.

Nerys found herself not paying much attention to the plot, which she had missed much of anyway, but rather taking in every detail of Robin and his performance. When he wasn't reading, she watched the way he looked ahead through the script, preparing himself for his next line, admiring the focus he applied to stay in the moment even when he was 'off.' He had that same smile she remembered and had always loved, the same mannerisms even when he was verbally personifying someone else. It was charming to remember the 17-year-old boy she had spent her evenings with. Memories of their time together, perhaps brought on by her own present loneliness, distracted her from the scene and it wasn't until her fellow audience members began to stand that she realized the reading must have ended. Nerys silently chastised herself for becoming so sentimental; she had come down to see how Robin had been doing, to confirm her suspicion that he was okay and set herself at ease, not to reminisce. Reflecting on his success was a bit saddening, given the wretched state she consider her own life to be in, but also satisfying, knowing that Robin seemed to have accomplished everything she might have hoped he would.

Leaving quickly was her only option if she wanted to go unnoticed, but Nerys found herself dawdling by the door, unsure. She had spotted @John Lennox across the aisle and took the chance to ask after a patient she had helped with a few weeks back, allowing herself a few minutes of hesitation just in case before she returned to her assigned floor. When she felt a gentle hand on her arm, Nerys knew at once who it must be; or perhaps, she was just hoping. Or dreading. She still wasn't sure. What could one say to an ex-boyfriend after over a decade of silence? She suspected her friends might tell her that seeing exes was all about proving who was better off without the other, but the idea seemed so childish. Besides, her own life was hardly perfect, and Robin wouldn't be the type to relish in it. He was always a good guy in her eyes, something she couldn't necessarily say about herself.

Nerys turned and looked up at Robin, smiling in spite of herself at his words. "You don't know I'm any good," she reminded him kindly. "You, though. That was really wonderful, Robin." His name rolled off her tongue with familiarity despite the time it had been since she had last spoken of him. "It made me a bit proud to know you, I have to admit," she added with another smile. She lifted her hand to touch the left side of her neck, nervous in spite of herself.

"How have you been?" She asked the question honestly, looking up into his eyes to let him know she really wanted to know. Now that the conversation had started, Nerys wasn't going to run away from the interaction.

She smiled back at him and his heart swelled, a wildly buoyant feeling that dizzied him. “You’ve got to be good if you’re one at all,” said Robin, resting a hand on his hip. “Hiring substandard healers is pretty irresponsible.” He ran his tongue over his lip and bit it, grinning widely. This moment had hung over his head so long and he’d feared it, imagined it, how he’d prove to her that he knew his worth and come away stronger, with closure. But seeing her for real had stirred up that visceral part of him that he’d long been trying to subdue. “Thanks,” he replied with a little laugh. He felt achingly teenage, flushed and out of control. But for her to say that to him, that she was proud to know him… It was as if she knew exactly what would strike a chord with him. It was as if she knew him. And when she asked how he’d been, it was as if she cared.

“Really good,” he said. “Honestly. All this—” He waved a hand behind them where he’d been set up. “Don’t know what I’ll do with myself after it’s over, of course, but, well…” That was’t for this conversation; he gave a nervous laugh. “And you!” He smiled brightly again. “How long have you been here—how’re you doing?” He was overwhelmed with things he couldn’t name. Different than when he’d been with her all those years ago, though. Or maybe it wasn’t. He wondered how much of the Nerys he remembered was real, and how much he’d made up. She’d loomed so large in his life that she’d become a symbol of all the times he’d failed and all the times he’d been hurt. He couldn’t remember when she’d been just a girl he liked.

She laughed, unable to resist his wide smiles and light-hearted comments. He made it easier to relax, somehow. "I'm sure you'll do something great," she assured him, meaning it truly. "It seems like you're quite popular. I think if you want to keep doing this you'll find a gig, no problem." Not that she knew anything about it. It was just hard not to have confidence in him; old habits died hard. "Oh -- " she paused for a moment at his question, unprepared despite the obvious flow of the conversation. "I'm fine," she said, going for the default response rather than providing much detail one way or the other. "We have a new head Healer on my floor, @Varvara Zakharova. She's agreed to help me work toward my Gold cauldron. For the Potions Guild, you know." It was small talk and it was probably boring, but at least she was probably meeting his expectations. Not letting herself down.

Just when she was starting to relax, things turned for the worse and Nerys felt her stomach drop. The room had mostly emptied, the patients being wheeled out as needed by the junior healers and mediwizards who had escorted them in, leaving Robin and Nerys standing rather exposed. A casual glance through the windows had revealed another familiar face out in the hallway: Eric. She didn't know what made her panic, but Nerys had grabbed Robin's wrist and pulled him out of the line of sight of the doors at once. The idea of the pair meeting was more than she could handle at the moment, and escape was the only option. A closet door only a few feet away was standing ajar, and Nerys dashed inside the tiny room without thought, pulling her unknowing companion in with her.

The door snapped shut behind them, Nerys having drawn her wand at once, and they were plunged into darkness. As soon as they were hidden and the danger passed, however, Nerys began to feel immensely foolish. "I'm sorry," she started, a bit of the familiar strain in her voice again. "I just couldn't -- " she exhaled sharply, trying to come up with any kind of reasonable explanation for her behavior. The truth seemed best. "It's just, my, er -- ex-husband was just coming in, and I -- " Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, the only hint of light the thin strip coming in from under the door.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, searching to make out his expression in the dark. "You've done nothing wrong. You must think me very foolish." She buried her face in her hands, humiliated even in the cover of darkness. So much for leaving him with an impression of her wonderful situation in life.

“Maybe,” replied Robin with a good-natured shrug. He had a hard time imagining being hired by anyone but his friends, considering his history of erratic behavior. But she didn’t need to know that. And he didn’t need to think about it, really: the prospect of unemployment felt kind of distantly ominous, not close enough to affect him in a real way. He had weeks of shows left, he’d figure something out by then. “Oh, wow,” he said enthusiastically instead, completely ignorant as to what a gold cauldron actually meant, but it sounded impressive. “That’s good to hear.”

Nerys glanced to the side and the smile left her face instantly. Before Robin could ask what the matter was, she had seized his arm and dragged him into an open closet. He blinked at her in the darkness, and then he laughed, his standard reaction when he didn’t know what to do.

She started to come apart a little in front of him, apologizing hurriedly. Robin moved his hand blindly to wrap around her upper arm in a way he hoped would be comforting. But then her explanation spilled out of her mouth, and he felt his own mouth fall open a little in surprise. Of course she had a life. He’d had a life too, mountains of things he didn’t want her confronted with on their first meeting in years, if ever. What unsettled him more, he thought, was the reaction she’d had, whatever fear made her drag him into a closet rather than be seen with him by her ex. He wanted to know what was going on there, what she was feeling. But that wasn’t the sort of thing you asked a person who was so obviously and desperately trying to avoid questions.

“Well, you know me,” he said with a soft chuckle. Brushing it aside would be best for now—would there be a later? They might see each other again, be friends even, if he continued to see Fflur on a regular basis. “I’ve done much dumber things than this, I’m not one to judge.” He patted her arm softly, trying to coax her face out from behind her hands. “You might want to come out first, though,” he said. “It might be even more awkward if he spotted us leaving a closet together.” In school they’d been above broom closet groping, or he’d thought she would be. But there were certain implications to onlookers nonetheless.

“And I’m sure you’re busy,” he added. “Healers are always rushing everywhere around here, can’t have you leaving anyone waiting.”

There was humor in the situation, Nerys knew it, but it was hard to bring herself to appreciate it. The only good news was that Robin didn’t seem terribly upset by her rash actions, laughing in that familiar way and trying to make her feel better when she was the one who should be apologizing. The feeling of his hand on her arm made her look up in surprise, the healer not used to being touched in such a comforting way. She was always the mother, the caretaker, looking out for other people rather than letting them take a turn caring for her.

She was careful not to shift away, not wanting him to think she was uncomfortable. Nerys laughed at his comment, curious what crimes of courtesy he could have committed in the years since graduation but knowing enough of his anecdotes at school to guess at the sort of silly mistakes he might have made. No one was perfect, Nerys knew it, and though she was hardly settling for who she was it did make her feel a bit better to know Robin wasn’t going to judge her for it.

Nerys felt a warm tingle creep up her neck at Robin’s implication, slightly embarrassed but also slightly and inexplicably pleased by his comment. Perhaps it was just the idea that she was capable of making her ex-husband jealous, maybe not. There was no time to analyze her ridiculous actions and emotions now; it would have to be resolved when she was home, or at least back at the semi-privacy of her desk. She could wait that long, at least.

“Right,” she replied, hoping he couldn’t see her blush but also acutely aware of how tiny the closet that they were jammed into was. She shifted her hair slightly so that it covered her neck, hoping he wouldn’t notice anything odd when she opened the door again. “I’m really sorry about this,” she added, hoping his eyes had adjusted enough by now to see her. “We’re supposed to be too old for this sort of thing, aren’t we?”

Nerys moved to pull the door open, cramming herself into as small a space as possible as she did so in order to avoid invading what little personal space he had left. She peeked her head out, and once she was confident that no one was looking at her aside from a pair of smirking voice actors, she slipped out of the closet. In a last-minute decision, Nerys leaned back in before she pulled the door shut, catching Robin’s eye in the sliver of light that was leaking into the room.

“If you ever wanted to get coffee, or something, we could,” she offered, trying not to sound too embarrassed about the idea. “That is, if I haven’t scared you off. I’d like to catch up.” She paused a moment, unsure if she should say anymore and questioning her hasty decision almost at once. “Well, you can write me if you want to. It was nice to see you, Robin. Sorry again.” And with that she pulled the door shut, not wanting to give him long enough to reject her, since her ego couldn’t take much more beating down for the day.

“Maybe you are,” replied Robin with a laugh.

She started to move, so he gave her arm a last pat and tried to shift himself around to give her as much room to open the door as he could. How long ought he to wait? Before he could start to think on it, though, Nerys’s face reappeared in the crack where the door was still ajar. “Definitely, yeah!” he said, probably sounding overeager. “Not at all, that’d—that’d be great.”

He smiled encouragingly just before she closed the closet door, and Robin leaned back against the shelves. He wondered what Fflur would think of this. They rarely touched on Nerys in their conversations, and when they did speak of her it was with a vague, reminiscent disdain. But he couldn’t deny when he was faced with her directly that he wanted to get on, he wanted to mend things.  Surely they could come to some sort of peace. He was much more peaceful now, he thought, even as he felt leftover energy shivering up and down his veins.

There wasn’t much point in creating a time distance anymore since Nerys had hung back conspicuously to talk to him, so Robin turned the doorknob himself and slipped outside. Hilary and Neil were eyeing him with amusement from a table in the middle of the room. Scoffing softly, he lifted his chin and avoided their eyes, assuming a humorous height of dignity as he walked past.