resolution - echo

If there were ever a time that Kit Emberton needed a drink, it was the night that he found himself struggling to pop open the aged whiskey he had once declared only suitable for a special occasion. The particular night he was doing just that, was, in fact, far from anything that could be deemed special.

It was nearly eleven o' clock at night when a severely injured and clearly shaken house elf stumbled through the front door of the Healer's practice, which, at the time, was absent of all but two people - the owner himself and his pain-in-the-ass apprentice, Echo Heavensby. Kit had been renting out the space (that even he sometimes called home) above his office for quite some time now while he mentored the nineteen year old in the final phase of her schooling. Although he would never admit it, he had never been happier to see the blonde bounding down the stairs as he was that Friday night.

Thibault, a freed house elf that had been coming to the practice for years now, had apparently been attacked by a masked radical group of wizards in a nearby village. Kit, having worked hard to fight the urge to run right out the door and track down whoever had done this, went straight to doing his job. A handful of hours later, and a lot of stress, Kit and Echo had done all they could for the night and set their friend up in the designated overnight area for patients.

"Kid!" Kit groaned from the kitchen of the flat that was now Echo's domain. "Get in here, you need a drink," He wasted no time to pour gracious amounts of amber liquid in the two glasses that were laid out in front of him. Really, it was him that needed a drink. It was certainly frowned upon, to offer up your apprentice a drink, but Kit had never really been traditional after all. And after the night they had, there was no question that they deserved it.

Echo didn’t know how things had gotten this way. The last thing she could remember clearly was the first Death Eater attack on Hogwarts her sixth year, and then after that everything just sort of blurred together in a tornado of blood and chaos and studying things for other things that she was having trouble remembering. Dily had been in a challenge, but only in the sense that she had to actually interact with people. Somehow she had made it through but now she was facing an entirely new challenge: existing. Without the strict confines of school to keep her in line it was much harder for her to hold onto herself and keep her head busy. Especially tonight, which had just been one of those nights where her heart just broke while she were fixing up some poor soul who hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. It made her furious, but not as furious as Kit had been.

Kit had a bleeding heart, if there ever was one. Every little thing, every injustice or inequality, and the scraggly man was up in arms ready to fight someone. It amused her to see a man so clearly unable to control his emotions, though part of her knew that wasn’t the truth.  Kit never ceased to surprise her and she hated, hated surprises. Except this one was kinda pleasant. This one had piercing blue eyes and unkempt hair and towered over her by almost a full foot and would ruffle her hair like she was a child. He was also stubborn and far too compassionate and brave but in a very idiotic sort of way. Was he even qualified to be her mentor?

And there was that. He called her “kid”. Maybe she should tell him that no grown(ish) woman wanted to be called “kid” by someone they had confusing and irritating feelings about. Maybe she should tell him or maybe she should just take the couch pillow and hit him over the head with it. After a few moments of very serious deliberation, Echo sighed and decided to let it slide. Just this once. It had been a long night for both of them and she’d let him off easy. Except if he did it again she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold off on the pillow bludgeoning. Kit had a very bludgeon-able face.

They were currently in her apartment, though it was technically his, seeking refuge from the long, long day. She was in the kitchen, washing the last bit of blood off her pajamas and using her wand to stir a cup full of cleaning solution and her many blood-stained rings. She hadn’t expected to have a patient so late after they closed, and as such was dressed for a night of relaxing, not sewing up wounds. She looked down at the reddened water swirling around the skin drain. It too easy. Seeing blood and feeling cut flesh under her fingertips and recognizing pain in someone’s eyes barely phased her anymore and that thought sickened her. She wasn’t fighting a war anymore, she shouldn’t be so familiar with death. At some point while she was lost in her thoughts, the pajamas shirt in her hands was as good as it was gonna get and she hung it up to dry.

“You know,” Echo said, walking out of the kitchen and sitting down directly on the coffee table across from where he was sitting on the couch. “Somehow I don’t think you’re supposed to be teaching your impressionable little apprentice how to drown your sorrows in a bottle. I’m just barely legal, ya know?“ She winced. Yeah, that’s right Echo, go ahead and remind him again how young you are. Good going. Biting her lip in annoyance, she took the generously filled glass in front of her and eyed it. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that she’d had her own fair share of drinking and could probably drink him under the table. While that would be effective in making him see her has an adult, she wasn’t sure confessing to being an recovered alcoholic was the best way to start off the night. He might take her whiskey away.

So instead she let out a loud and tired breath, followed by a crooked grin and raised her glass high above her head. “To Thibault, for being the bloody toughest elf out there tonight. And to us, for being the best bloody doctors in the isles and patching him up alright. We kicked some serious arse tonight, you and I.” She clinked her glass against his with a ringing sound and took a long, very thirsty swallow of the fragrant amber liquid. It burned down her throat and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. For a few minutes there was quiet and then she spoke up, her voice small and thoughtful.

“Does it get easier, Kit? I mean for you. All the injuries and all the injustice, does it ever hurt you less than you know it should?”

Kit watched with careful eyes as Echo made her way into the room, very aware of not letting on that he was studying every muscle on her face as insight into how she had taken the night's events. Although it would nearly kill the Healer to admit it, he truly was invested in the career of the young woman, who had been a complete stranger mere months ago. Bright eyes followed her all the way to the coffee table before rolling around in their sockets in response to another one of her ever-present insults.

"You know what else?" Kit paused to take a swig of his drink, pursing his lips as the burn of the alcohol fired his senses. "I don't think your landlord would appreciate you sitting..." Kit kept a straight face as he kicked Echo on the knee and laid his feet on the coffee table next to her. "...on tables whenever you please 'round here." He added with a smug grin. It wasn't that he was intentionally tough on his apprentice, but he was still figuring out the dynamics of being a mentor. The way he saw it, no one would actually choose to be taught anything from him.

Raising his glass with a sage nod, Kit broke his serious facade with a smile. It seemed they could agree on a few things after all. "To Thibault," The twenty-seven year old mimed as he hit the bottom on his glass on the lip of hers with a clink. After swallowing the remainder of his drink with a swig, Kit piped up again. "And!" He held up the empty glass. "To finding the bastards that had the gall..." He sighed inwardly, his tone practically answering Echo's inquiry before he had a chance to respond.

As his green eyes shot to the ceiling in thought, The Healer toyed with the sleeve of his dirtied flannel. These sort of mentor/apprentice questions were not ones that he had mastered yet. At times he caught himself wondering how his own mentor, Mila, had been unfailingly wise at every turn of their partnership. "It doesn't," Kit finally carried his gaze back down to the blonde, the honesty of his statement working into his every feature.

"It just makes me want to work harder... Do more," He let out a long, thoughtful, breath. "But things like tonight make it worth it, yeah?" Kit poured more whiskey in his glass. "How are you finding it?" He suddenly asked, curiosity brimming in his eyes. "Working here, I mean. I can't imagine I am a shining example of this whole thing. How'd you not end up at Mungos... with the professionals?" Kit continued as he settled back on the couch to prepare for whatever she was going to throw his way.

Kit was so good at his job. Echo swirled the last few drops of whiskey around in her cup and stared hard at it, as if the answers to the world’s mysteries were hidden somewhere in the bottom of the glass. Kit was really really good at his job. Echo had been watching him in a totally not creepy way these last few months and had had long since earned her respect as a healer. Maybe not quite as a mentor since he didn’t have that sage, annoying-as-hell manner about him, but maybe that was because she wasn’t used to his methods yet. His response rolled around in her head as she considered the man in front of her. That was such a Kit thing to say. Of course it made him want to work harder.

And then he asked her how she was doing. Ah crap, how was Echo going to answer that? She bided her time by reaching forward and taking hold of the whiskey bottle, thoughtfully pouring them a second set of matching amber glasses. She shrugged and raised the glass to her lips, taking a long awkward sip as her mind raced. Her head was already starting to feel a little buzzy and the nervous words came out before she had the chance to stop them. “You’re an awful mentor,” she blurted out. Ah crap. Crap. Crapppppp. Was there even a graceful way to recover from that? “What I mean to say,” she said, stumbling over the words and finding her lips just a little too loose. “—is that you aren’t built to teach. You’re built to do. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I needed. St. Mungos… I don’t really fit in there. As much as I hate to admit it, you’ve been right all along. I am terrible with people. I’m not polite and I’m not soft and....”

Ah screw it. She emptied the last of her second glass and slammed it down none-too-gently on the table. “I’m not like them, Kit. I can’t fake it. I can’t pretend like everything is gonna be okay cause I have seen not-okay and it’s ugly.” She crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest and scowled in annoyance. Why was she feeling so defensive? She could just stop talking, but the warm buzzing of whiskey and Kit’s presence were messing with her head and she just felt the need to explain months’ worth of bad behavior because she didn’t want him to think she was something she wasn’t. She didn’t want him to think she was better than she was.

“My last mentor, Leon, he was a lot like you. He wasn’t trying to hold my hand the whole way, he was trying to make sure I survived because I almost lost it.” Echo knew what she was about to say and her mind was screaming at her to stop because no one was supposed to know, but she couldn’t. Some part of her was dying to tell someone, to let someone in on the secret. Any time it came up, Echo had been vague about what had happened and what she had done during the war, but down-playing the horror made her feel cheap. She needed to tell someone, and Kit was sitting there looking all stupid and trustworthy and she wanted so badly for him to know the real her and not turn away.

“There was—during the war—I watched scores of people die in my arms and at the end of my wand. I don’t do this, all of this—“ she motioned around the room, “—to help people. I honestly don’t give a damn about people. I do it because I need to, Kit, because if I watch anyone else die I think I’m going to go insane. When Leon pulled me out of that Snatcher dungeon I swore to live a life that was worth saving—worth surviving what they’d done to me.” Oh Merlin, was she crying? “I’m only nineteen and the only purpose I have is slogging through the endless shitstorm where the good ones like Thibault are punished for their existence.”

She roughly wiped her eyes with the back of her pj sleeve and hiccupped, trying to catch her breath. It was as if all the anger was buzzing in the air around her and all that was left was a deep gnawing emptiness. She couldn’t take back what she had said but one look at Kit’s face and she didn’t know what to think. She slumped against the table and pulled her knees up to her chin. “I don’t see anything worth living for here, Kit. Why are we doing this? We can’t change a damn thing and you know it.”