lost & not found. [tag; zephir]

blinded by the lights, this movie isn't over
take me by the hand, you feel a little colder.

He'd stood her up.

She'd been excited but now she was just upset. He'd owled her and the arranged place had been a café in the centre of London, on neutral ground. The time had been eleven in the morning but Tabitha had been there for ten thirty. She'd picked a seat outside to enjoy the summer sunshine, on the street in clear view and she'd taken the time to make herself look pretty. Her long fiery red hair had been curled, hanging past her slender shoulders and she'd picked out her best dress.

Tabitha had even taken the trouble to bring Zephir a gift. It was an old book, cracked and worn, the subject she took absolutely no interest in; thermodynamics. The last time she'd seen him, he'd been reading a similar book. The night had been awful for her. She'd taken a fall and ran to him for comfort. Comfort she didn't get. He hadn't yelled at her but he'd made some callous remarks, cutting words, words that hadn't left her just yet, even five months on.

She'd sat at the pretty little wrought iron table and bought him a coffee. For all she knew, he could prefer tea. Eleven o'clock turned into half past, the minutes ticked by and with every passing second, Tabby could feel her heart sinking lower and lower. He must have had a change of heart and not had the decency to tell her.

Tabby waited and waited but by the time two o'clock had come, she figured he was a no show and so, she'd gathered herself up, tucked the book under her arm and made her way home. The book now lay in tatters. Once she'd gotten home, she'd hurled at with such force at her bedroom wall that the spine had split, pages scattered all over her bedroom floor. She hadn't bothered to clean it up.

Fine, she told herself as she stood with her door shut, angrily kicking the broken book as she paced. This was getting stupid now. If he didn't need her, then she didn't need him. She nodded but inwardly, the pep talk really hadn't worked. The crux of the matter was that by not turning up, Zephir had really, truly hurt her. It was a physical pain, like he'd jabbed a knife into her ribcage, hilt deep and jiggled it. No matter what she told herself, it didn't change her mind. She was in too deep. She was emotionally invested in Zephir but she felt slighted. He was the one who said he wanted to get to know her. He was the one who initiated this. He was the one who wanted her to play by his rules. He was the one who'd broken her heart.

The funny thing was, the further she got from Zephir, the closer she got to her parents. Her home life had improved drastically. The fighting had stopped, her mum and dad were more affectionate with each other and Tabby had stopped lying. She lied to protect her dad's feelings, to protect Zephir but enough was enough. Five months was too long and she couldn't help but feel like she was being lead on, dragged along. Fine. She was going to face this entire thing with bitter indifference. No more crying, no more childishness. She needed to grow up. Fast.

Tabitha got changed, slipping into her old pair of jeans, thin jumper and battered sneakers as she balled up her dress and shoved it into her laundry basket, burying it deep beneath her other clothes. She didn't want to be reminded of this day. It was a little after six in the evening as she trudged downstairs and schlepped to the kitchen, her dad the first to look up.

The tall redhead offered him a weak smile. "I'm going out," she declared and her parents shot each other a look. Her dad parted his lips to protest but she held up a hand to try and silence him. "I'm not going to see him," Tabby replied with a shrug of her slender shoulders. There was no need to give that person a name. Everyone knew it was her half-brother. Could she call him that? He didn't feel like a brother, half of otherwise. He felt like a stranger who was messing with her head. "Sweetie," her dad began, reaching out a hand towards her. "You can if you want to." Holding herself stiffly, she shook her head, her carefully constructed curls unraveling as she squeezed his hands. "I'm not going to see him ever again," she replied and her voice had a tone of finality that made her mother frown. She smiled again, her upset thinly veiled. "I'm just going for a walk. Besides, we're out of milk," she concluded. "I won't be long." With that, she closed her front door behind her.

She got to her neighbour's garden before giving up. Tabitha sat on the garden wall, the cool summer night breeze kicking up her hair as she stared at her shoes. This was her own fault, though. It was always her fault. She'd been too full on, she'd pushed too hard, she'd forced him into talking to her. The letters had been plentiful at first and he'd seemed interested in how her schooling was going but, like always, they'd dried up. She sat still as she swallowed. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was truly unlovable.

The sudden realisation hit her with such force, she hadn't seen it coming. Unable to help herself, a single tear escaped her eye and made a slow, sad path down her porcelain cheeks before dripping off her chin hand splashing on her thigh. She wasn't stupid, she'd always kind of known that. She had friends but none that she'd really trust. Except Stephen. Stephen would know what to do but he was all the way up in Scotland and she cared for him too much to just knock on his door without warning. He didn't know about Zephir, either. She'd been dying to tell her friend, she needed to tell someone but she daren't, all because she was trying to protect the Healer.

Sat by herself, she recalled various snippets of their conversations. Specifically when she'd told him they were related. No. I have two sisters and you are not one of them. His words still rang, clear as a bell and they were often repeated when she was upset. Listening to them play back, seeing the way he'd looked at her like she was something he'd trodden in, Tabby let out a sob and the sound sliced through the silence of the sleepy suburban neighbourhood. Pitching forward, she tangled her hands in her hair, pulling them backwards to rest on the nape of her neck. When Zephir was good, he was very good but when he was bad, he was awful.

She reached up to wipe her nose on the back of her left hand, sniffling pitifully as she stood and began to walk. Yeah. A walk. That'd be good. She wanted to tell her dad everything but she couldn't. He'd hurt her too but she loved him, so deeply and to know she might upset him again….well, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Tabitha was used to shouldering burdens. She told herself frequently that she was fine, that she was okay, that she was handling things but it was taking it's toll on her and every day, she felt less and less like the happy sixteen year old she was this time last year.

It didn't take long for her to reach the centre of her little village, the shops weren't that far. Her family lived near a small Muggle town and Tabitha often enjoyed people watching, they were fascinating and oh-so funny. She paused at the curb. Cars were odd things, she didn't truly understand them but the road was mildly busy, a car every few minutes or so as they trundled along. The shop was on the other side and she needed to cross it before a sudden stupid and horribly reckless thought occurred to her; what if?

How fast did those things go? Surely not faster than a broom in a Quidditch game. She chewed on her lower lip, the wind seeming colder as it whipped her hair, the hairs on the back of her arms standing to attention as her slender body let out an involuntary shudder.

It wouldn't hurt.

Tabitha was getting desperate. She so needed to feel something. Something that wasn't anger or hurt, upset or depression, she needed something new. Exciting. She needed a jolt of adrenaline. A car approached, she could hear the engine in the near distance and she made a split second decision. Taking a quick breath, she waited until the car came closer and she stepped right out into it's path, her big chocolate brown eyes clenched shut, ready for the inevitable impact.

Zephir felt sick to his stomach at what he was doing. There was an element of disbelief at the fact that his legs were still pounding the footpath, steadily carrying him to his destination. He wasn’t quite sure why he hadn’t chickened out yet. Why he hadn’t cut his losses and apparated back to his suburb in the city, far away from this. He relived his morning briefly, and the events that had led to this moment. This ridiculous decision. Fighting the rising panic felt like a task that was far beyond his threshold. In his head, he equated it to trying to tie up a cubic block of water with a piece of string. Instead of achieving any kind of success, he was drowning and completely tangled up in wet thread.

The healer had been contacted at four that morning and asked if he could come in for a shift at the hospital from five until ten. He didn’t want to agree, but he needed the money, and it should still have given him plenty of time to see Tabitha. At the end of his shift however, there had been a message sent to the hospital that there had been an accident during a large shipment of Smigprickle squirrels to a research department in the ministry, and that a large number of ministry employees had been bitten. Nasty little shits, he’d thought, amidst a pulse of panic. Of course Smigprickle squirrels weren’t allowed to exist near humans of any kind, as their bite induced a rapid rot of the skin and muscle around the bite. It was potentially fatal. As he was working in the Dai Llewelyn ward at the time, naturally Zephir had to go, with the other available healers, to look after those infected.

It took hours. And it was messy. Zephir was exhausted, and sickened by the smell of rotting flesh. When they’d finally taken care of everyone at ground zero, and transported patients back to the hospital, he’d needed a moment alone to get over the horror of what he’d just seen. Luckily there were no deaths, and very little permanent damage to any of the patients. One man had lost a leg permanently, but magical prosthetics were incredible nowadays, Zephir reflected. It would be horrific for the man… But Zephir had seen worse. Of course he’d missed his meeting with Tabitha, and after an hour of deliberating and debriefing himself after his ridiculous day, he’d decided to go to her house.

And that was why he felt sick. Of course he’d owled ahead, explaining the situation. The letter was addressed to the Whiting family, because Tabitha had told him that she’d told her family about the meeting they’d planned for earlier that day. Zephir’s min was single-tracked right now. He was going over and over and over the possibilities of what would happen in the next twenty minutes. His feet beat out a steady rhythm for him to think to. He had a string of words and sentences, and knew exactly what he’d say, whether Charlie or Tabitha or her mother answered. He had a planned course of action for if someone that couldn’t possibly be any of those three people answered. Or if no one did. His hands were shaking at the idea of taking to his father for the first time, and he felt like he was going to throw up but his steps didn’t falter. Shoving his hands roughly into his pockets, Zephir tried to combat the fear and waves of sickening, twisting anxiety.

He wished he hadn’t apparated so far away from her house now, but when he’d done so, he’d been trying to give himself some time to psych himself up to doing it. His stare was stony and he was completely devoid of expression, and he doubted that that was going to change much tonight whether he got to speak to Tabitha or not. Of course, now that he was walking, there was no way he was going to pull out his wand and magically teleport himself closer. He was terrified. Absolutely terrified.

That was when he saw her. It shocked him, to see her so close when he’d expected to have to knock on her door and possibly go through the impossible experience of seeing his father for the first time. She didn’t understand, did she? It was the most traumatising part of his life, and he didn’t want that particular experience to happen. Ever. But I’d do it for you, he thought blankly. “Tabitha,” he called, but she seemed intent on whatever she was doing. He hurried his pace to catch up to her, but she’d stepped out in front of an oncoming car.

She wasn’t moving.

It was a split second decision that he threw himself into unrestrainedly. It was burning calf muscles as he pushed himself to reach her in time. It was a flash of red hair and his brown coat flapping in the wind and the piercing sound of a car horn ringing through the air. It was the impact of them both hitting the road, hard. Gravel against skin. Knees and elbows and feet knocked against the ground. They tumbled several times and he was up in a flash, dragging her to her feet. He didn’t care if he hurt her, he just needed to get her somewhere safe. He hauled her off of the road and on to the footpath beside it, practically throwing her to her feet.

“Fuck, Tabitha!” he exclaimed, hands moving to her shoulders in a flash, brown eyes searching hers with high levels of intensity. His voice grated out like metal on rock as his fingers dug into her skin, scared that if he let her go she might dissipate before him. “Are you fucking insane?!” She was fine. Fine. He tried to tell himself this, but a part of him wanted to punch something. Adrenaline coursed through him and he had to consciously stop himself from clenching his hands around her upper arms because he didn’t want to hurt her. His voice rung with disbelief and frustration and shock, as well as fury and desperation. He needed to let her go, He wasn’t ready to let her go again. His mind was working in overdrive, taking everything he’s just witnessed and going through it frame by frame. There was no way she’d stepped out by accident. He’d reacted instinctively, and his instincts had been completely correct. His brain worked through this validation as he stared her down. He forced himself to let go of her, but tensed automatically, totally ready to catch her if she tried to disappear.

Zephir made quite an imposing figure when he was angry. He wasn’t physically large, per se, but he was tall. She was tall too, but he was furious. His thought patterns were branching out in different directions, exploring things like the possibility that she was, actually insane. Or horribly depressed. Or a mix of both. He shook his head, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. The fact that he cared so much frustrated him to no end. He’d never felt like family was defined purely by blood. Charlie, for example, was not his father. Biologically, yes. But in all ways that really mattered… no. He was insignificant. Zephir couldn’t bring himself to think the same about Tabitha however. Zephir though he might throw up.

He felt as if he was tethered to her with cables of steel. Steel cables, wrapped a thousand times around whatever part of his brain it was that was in control of irrational thinking. It was the same with his other sisters. He was subject to a completely unswaying compulsion to protect them. Tabitha was something of his.  The way he felt about her was completely irrational, but he couldn’t control it. She was family now, and had to be protected. Obviously. She was doing a good job of evidencing this herself currently.  “Are you trying to fucking kill yourself?” he asked slowly, his voice a little quieter but no less intense or meaningful. His words cut the air like a steel blade. They were cold. Concise. He’d flipped from hot rage to ice cold rage in moments. He felt dangerous. His heart was beating the adrenaline around his body at an astounding rate, and he swore he could feel his pulse in his fists. His complete, undivided attention was focussed intensely on the girl in front of him.

Shakily, the young man ran the back of his hand against his mouth. Inwardly, he was trying to calm down. Trying to come up with a course of action wasn’t working for him. In fact, he was failing horribly. Uncharacteristically, he was having trouble considering his next actions and was instead focussed completely one what had just happened. The pragmatic side of him knew that he needed to calm down so that he could think things through, so he took a deep breath, his nostrils flared with anger, and his eyes full of furious questions.

This wasn't the type of impact she was expecting. She didn't really know how cars worked, the mechanics confused her and she didn't have the time to sit and read about intricate wiring like Stephen would have. Stephen. Ah, Stephen. It amused her to think that she was thinking what he was doing at that moment. Probably at home with his sisters and his parents, the picture of a perfect family. Would he come and see her in hospital? Tabby figured she'd be going straight there if someone found her lying in the road. Or straight to the morgue, depending on what would happen.

Death. Seemed appealing at the moment.

Time seemed to slow down, frame by frame, dragged out. The horn almost burst her eardrums but she was flattened to the hard, uneven surface from the back. She hit the road with such force that all of the air was knocked clean out of her and she couldn't get up, something was pinning her down. Her mind was playing catch up. What could that be? The trajectory was all wrong. The car should have hit her legs, she should have gone sideways or up and over the windscreen or underneath the wheels. Why was she on her front?

Then came the searing pain. To protect herself, Tabby had extended her hands to try and break her fall but something felt a bit off. Her wrists felt heavy, sore. Her palms were shredded, as were her jeans. The denim was ripped, her knees scuffed and there was a graze under her right eye where she'd fallen and bumped her head. The wounds felt hot and sticky, bits of dirt and gravel were sticking to the open cuts. The jolt from behind her had shocked her and pushed her hips forward so hard and so fast, the bones had hit the concrete, too. Tabby was a skinny girl, there wasn't much to her after all. There was nothing to suppress the force. It felt uncomfortable but not really that sore. Being hit by a car actually hurt considerably less than she'd imagined it to. Funny that.

Tabby had no desire to move. In fact, she couldn't move. She was crumpled in a heap on the floor, dazed and confused. Did anyone see? Oh that was embarrassing. She had no choice but to comply when she was hauled to her feet, her knees wobbling a little. Everything was cloudy. Fuzzy. Foggy. She could hear a commotion, chatter? Someone was yelling. At her? All she could hear was a dull ringing in her ears, like someone was having a conversation with her but she was underwater. Oh this was strange.

Whoever had her was manhandling her. He or she was being too rough, too strong. And they knew her name. She blinked, the background fading as she tried to refocus and re-evaluate. Okay. She hadn't been hit by the car and she wasn't dead. Was she dead? Everything was so blurry and she was utterly perplexed. She didn't really believe in Heaven. She wasn't that daft. But was this the after life? If so, there weren't any angels, harps, clouds or pearly gates.

Zephir.

His familiar face loomed in front of hers and it made her head spin. Her stomach lurched, twisting and turning and she forced herself to swallow. He was looking at her strangely. She must have begun to realise what was happening because she felt sharp pains all over her body. It was his fingers. They were holding onto her too tightly, his nails were digging in, tearing her skin and she frowned, writhing and unsuccessfully attempting to escape his grip of iron.

Was she insane? All of a sudden, Tabitha laughed. Loud and clear as a bell, properly, totally, full on laughing. It must be delayed shock. She found the entire thing hilarious. He needed to stop saving her. He didn't need to save her. Maybe she didn't want to be saved. Insane. Yeah, she thought she was. Crazy clearly ran in the family. She felt a twinge of pain, her body automatically trying to distance itself from him. She didn't want to be near him. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to speak to him and she certainly wanted to stop being shaken by him. She wasn't ready to see him again. Had she been rational, she might have thought there was a good reason he didn't turn up today but no.

Tabitha hadn't said a word yet. Confused and feeling decidedly lost, she simply stared at the Healer. Her big brown eyes were unfocused but so like Zephir's, it was scary. She could stand on her own two feet now. She was fine. He could let her go. He wasn't getting any answers out of her. She looked down at his hands on her shoulders, wondering how they'd gotten there. The graze on her cheekbone looked red and sore, a trickle of blood making a slow streak down her cheek, much the same as her tear had done some moments ago. Everything just seemed to...weird. She stared at his much bigger hands. Why was he still holding her? She was fine. She didn't need or want this.

Ah. Now that was a question.

Was she trying to kill herself? She looked back up at him, her eyes glassy, almost like they weren't looking at him; they were looking through him. Tabitha gave a shrug of her left shoulder and found that that joint hurt, too. Everything hurt. Her wrists hurt more than anything, she thought her left one might be broken. It wasn't hanging right and she couldn't wiggle her fingers. Her spine hurt from Zephir's weight, her knees were bleeding, her head was spinning but at least she was coherent. Sort of.

"Thought about it," the redhead finally stated and it was the truest thing she'd ever said to him. She had thought about it. Often. Usually in the moments before she fell into a deep sleep, entertaining what would happen if she did die. Would anyone really, truly miss her? Zephir wouldn't miss her. He needn't say it. She wasn't stupid, she understood his signs. Her parents might be a bit upset but they'd get over it. It was a spur of the moment thing. Dying wasn't really her style but she was just so so so unhappy. Maybe it was a cry for help. Someone needed to see that she wasn't okay. She didn't have the balls to admit that, yes, she wasn't okay. Yes, she wasn't coping. Yes, her head and heart were in bits but nobody even noticed her. She was so desperate. Desperate to feel something. Anything.

She blinked again quickly, feeling a bit more human. What was unusual, however, was that she seemed indifferent to his concern. She felt indifferent to absolutely everything lately. That was why she'd stepped out. She was so sure she was dead inside, unable to feel but she needed to feel something. Pain, panic, adrenaline. Speaking of adrenaline, it was wearing off and pain seeped back into her very bones. It was good, though. Pain gave her something to think about other than him and the mountains of questions; what was he doing? Why was he here in Bath? Her mind went back to what he'd said months ago; you can't keep showing up. Likewise, he couldn't just save her life. She hadn't asked him to. This was her little corner of the world and right now, he was not welcome in it.

She really wasn't herself.

In some sort of bizarre role reversal, Zephir seemed angry and he'd been yelling. She wasn't yelling. She'd spoken three words as he swore and shook her. This was a bit weird. As he wiped his mouth, she gently pried his other hand off of her shoulder and pushed his hand back at him. Wasting no time, she retreated. She couldn't deal with him. With this. With everything. The last thing she wanted was physical contact with him. The skin he'd previously touched felt like it was on fire.

Physically, she was fine but emotionally, she was damaged. Zephir couldn't help her with that so there was really no need for him to be there at all. Calmly, Tabby stooped to pick up the loose change that had fallen to the floor, extending a long index finger to the shop a little way away from where they were. "I need to get milk," she explained. "And I have to get home," she replied in a clipped tone that was so unlike her own. It sounded cold and robotic. She gave a nod, her red hair ruffling before she took a few wobbly steps in the direction she'd just pointed to. Her steps were slow, like a toddlers. Every single step hurt but it hurt a Hell of a lot less than being so close to him.

The redhead was in some kind of daze and Zephir’s mind whirred like a machine to find the answers. Could she be on some kind of drug? Tabitha definitely seemed like the kind of girl who would be terribly affected by that kind of thing. If her day-to-day life was anything like any of the times they’d interacted, then she was a highly-strung, barely-together emotional wreck. He didn’t know what to think about that. Watching her now was almost scary, and he couldn’t even describe her as a frightened deer. She was more like… a ghost. Less than that, even. She seemed empty. Her head might as well have been lolling around on her shoulders. She might as well have been limp in his hands. Tabitha wasn’t herself.

Thought about it.

Zephir openly stared at her while she spoke. His breathing had slowed, and rational thought was coming a little more easily now. What were his options? What was the next step? Tabitha was crazy. Zephir’s lows were excruciatingly dark for the man, but he’d never really contemplated suicide. There had been moments when the idea of somehow causing himself to be lacking in awareness completely, to the point of nonexistence, was somewhat appealing… but really it had never really been an option. There was always a better route. Death wasn’t a pragmatic choice, and Zephir was a pragmatist through and through. He snapped back to the moment. The girl was pushing him away, but he wouldn’t have any of it. Cars zoomed past them to his left, and he felt himself take an instinctive step to the side, ready to catch her if she tried again.

He tensed slightly as she moved to pick up some of the money she’d dropped. This whole thing was ridiculous. “I’m taking you home,” he told her seriously. His anger had subsided somewhat, but the man still felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was a strange sensation. The healer disregarded her words automatically; she was being horribly irrational. The young man drew his wand and followed her two steps forward. She was shaky and slow and couldn’t really offer any real resistance. The healer knew what he had to do, he just dreaded it. Tabitha needed to get home, regardless of whatever feelings he had about their father. Zephir reached out and took her arm firmly, taking a step to the side and instantly being assaulted by the familiar feeling of apparation. It was uncomfortable, and the man held his breath out of habit. He didn’t think he’d met anyone who enjoyed that sensation.

They materialised with a Pop! outside Tabitha’s house. He felt a flutter of panic in his stomach, but didn’t hesitate as he knocked firmly on the front door. He let go of his sister’s arm, but there was no way she was getting away. He needed to get her somewhere safe, and the logical thing to do would be to give her back to her guardians to take care of.

Everything was slow.

Time was slowing. Wasn't that peculiar or what? Ha. Funny. Her body wasn't doing what she wanted it to. Her actions were slow, laboured. The shock of the near miss was starting to wear off and all she could feel was pain. Sore. She ached everywhere. Knees, back, wrists, hips, her head was throbbing. She had the sudden desire to curl up somewhere warm and sleep. In a dim recess of her brain, she remembered that medical conference she attended.

A sharp blow to the head. After effects include drowsiness, confusion and temporary incapacity the man who was wearing a bow tie had told the packed room. Did she had a concussion? Maybe. She was walking like a baby deer with legs so long, she didn't know what to do with them. Her steps were slow and clumsy like a baby, her knees wobbling as she fought for control. She'd be fine if she was allowed to sit down and he would stop asking her things. The need to get away from him was almost overwhelming. Her mind was screaming for her to sit but her body was screaming to get away. Away from Bath, away from this, away from here, away from him. If she could run, she would have.

She blinked at him, her big chocolate button eyes wide and glassy. "You've never thought about it?" Tabitha asked softly as he shot her that look. "Death? I think it's perfectly normal," she rabbited on, shrugging her sore left shoulder as the cold breeze floated by and kicked up a lock of her flame red hair. It was messy. The fall had ruined her outfit. There was a leaf and bits of gravel in her hair. She paled again as she stared at him. None of this was really his fault. She had issues long before she turned up in his life.

"It's fascinating," she whispered, taking another step back. Being so close to him hurt. "Humans are so…fragile," she began offering a weak smile. "Here one day, gone the next. Amazing," she said, sound awestruck. "Why didn't you let it hit me?" The redhead asked, looking directly at him. He wasn't there for her today. What gave him the right to be there for her now? She had parents. She had friends. Sort of. She didn't need Zephir. She was perfectly fine, thanks.

When he said he was taking her home, she kept on walking like a drunk toddler, arms outstretched either side of her to try and keep her balance. He was being so silly! He didn't know where she lived! Silly boy. "No thank you," she replied, her tone clipped and precise and much unlike her usual voice. Home wasn't that far away and she was fine. It was just shock. If she could make it to that bench over there, take five minutes to calm down and think, she'd be fine. If asked why she'd taken so long, she could say she bumped into Mr. Thompson and Bonnie, his golden retriever.

"Leave me alone, Zephir," she mumbled. She was floppy and sore and tired and the last thing she wanted was his hand all over her. Unable to really put up any sort of fight, she frowned as he took her arm and almost instantly, she was gone. Yuck. All the spinning and twirling made her feel icky. Once her feet were back on terra firma, her knees buckled and she hit the floor. He still had hold of her wrist, somewhat holding her up. "I don't feel well," she complained, placing her free hand on the tarmac and forcing herself back onto her feet.

Her home was nice. Plush gardens, bird houses, small walls, cheery people. Zephir didn't belong her. He didn't have a plush garden, a bird house, a small wall and he definitely was not a cheery person. And he was ruining everything. When she turned up at his home, she was only inconveniencing him but here? Here he was fucking with her parents. Yeah sure, their relationship wasn't the best but they were all she had now and things were improving. Him being here was putting things in jeopardy of going back to square one.

The nausea kicked up a notch and caused her to press her fingers to her mouth. Her porcelain skin tinged green in the setting sun and there was only thing for it; her tea was coming up one way or another. Stepping away, she heaved was vomited in one of her neighbours beautiful jardinière. "You have to go," she said gruffly as she wiped her mouth and brushed herself off, hastily smoothing her hair and clothes. "You can't be here," she hissed at him. "You have to go," she stated again, giving him a sharp shove in an effort to get him to start walking. "Now," she said through gritted teeth. His apparent inability to just leave was really starting to grate on her nerves.

"My dad can't see you," she said again. It was no longer "our" dad, it was "her" dad. Hers. Not his. If she wasn't welcome in his family, he was not welcome in hers. "Go home, Zephir," she pleaded. She'd lost the anger and all that was left in her tone was simply hurt. She heard the door unlock and before it was opened, she took her chance. Childishly, she took a deep breath and ran. Tabitha bolted. Turning on her heel, she sprinted, her long legs not taking her very far. She was half way down her garden and she threw herself behind a nearby hedge. She was too old for hide and seek but to her, this made perfect sense.

Her mother was the one who opened the door. "Tabby?" the petite blonde asked, looking around the door, only to see Zephir standing there. Recognition dawned almost instantly on the older woman's face as she took off er glasses. "Oh," she said simply, offering a faint smile.


[sorry, I didn't know how Charlie would react.]

Tabitha was babbling about the fragility of human life, but Zephir didn’t listen to anything she was saying. He needed to take her home. Maybe she needed to be on some kind of medication or something? Perhaps she was supposed to be, and had forgotten to take her medication or something… He wanted to ask her parents if she was seeing someone. A professional kind of someone. If she wasn’t, then maybe she should be. Zephir could certainly recommend someone at the hospital… “Come on, Tabby,” he said again, helping her to her feet after she fell over. The healer was trying to be gentle, but he was at a loss. He didn’t know what he should be saying. What kind of situation was he in right now? He’d just seen his sister try to throw herself in front of a car. Now that the adrenaline was ebbing from his system, the man could only think that she was completely crazy. It irked him. A lot.

The dark haired man felt a flash of irrational anger and frowned at the surge of emotion. Mentally he tried to work out where it was coming from. Irrationality was his worst enemy. It took him a moment, but quickly came to realise that the answer was obvious. His father. He was angry at Charlie because something was wrong with Tabitha. The feeling was a little irrational, he supposed, but it was very clear that this was exactly what he was reacting to. He blamed the man, because if he’d taken care of her properly, then the redheaded girl wouldn’t be stepping out in front of cars. Zephir remembered what he’d been like at sixteen. He’d thought he was totally mature and grown up. The difference here was that emotionally, Tabitha wasn’t very mature at all. She didn’t seem to be able to cope with change well. It stressed him out.

He had to get out of here.

You have to go. Zephir glanced at the redheaded girl, finally listening to what she was saying for the first time. She was right. He really couldn’t be here right now. The sounded more than irritated though, she was desperate. The man drew the back of his hand across his mouth distractedly before letting it fall loosely back to his side. Had Tabitha just thrown up? He could smell it… not that it really affected him. Zephir had dealt with vomit and worse at the hospital. The man had an early shift tomorrow, and he was aware of the setting sun. The shift in light looked nice on the suburban setting, but the hedges and little painted fences did not feel apt for the bizarre situation he was in. Zephir felt like he was in a bubble of his own. He didn’t fit here. Tabitha’s tone indicated to him that his presence here wasn't just offensive, it was abrasive. He frowned. “Okay,” he answered, a little dazed.

Zephir was in a no-nonsense kind of mood at the moment, but she was right. He didn’t belong. He had to leave. But he couldn’t go just yet. He had to drop her off or… something. The latch on the door made a soft clicking noise and Tabitha’s expression changed. He turned back to face the door, suddenly very afraid of what might be on the other side. He had to behave like an adult now, though. He was grown up. In his twenties. A professional. The idea of meeting his father like this shouldn’t make him feel so… uncomfortable. The man refused to name the emotion he was feeling ‘fear’, because it was so illogical. Charlie was just a man, after all. The door opened, and he was almost surprised at the fact that a woman answered. Of course… Tabitha had a mother and a father.

His heart was beating too quickly, but his expression was serious and mature. He wouldn’t let this affect him. He couldn’t. “Mrs Whiting?” he asked, his mouth suddenly very dry. She was smiling, but he couldn’t. Zephir’s manner was professional, but a stray thought managed to escape his strict control and he wondered briefly what it was that Charlie saw in this woman. Or what she saw in him. Or whether she’d known that Zephir existed before Tabitha had tracked him down. And how they’d met. And whether she was a half-blood or a pureblood. How had none of this come up in the conversations that he’d had with his sister? Okay, he thought tiredly, shut up now, brain. “Tabby tried to hurt herself. She’s not well…” he trailed off after hearing another sound from inside the house. The young man’s vision was unfocussed for a moment as he tried to see past the woman blocking the doorway. It had to be him. Charlie. Zephir’s long-lost father.

He swallowed against a dry throat, suddenly feeling the panic rising again. He realised with disgust that there was a slight tremor in his hands. Ugh. No. why was this happening? Why could an irrational emotional reaction affect him physically like this? He hated it. Hated it. “She’s in your garden. I’ve got to go.” He paused again for a moment, fixing Tabitha’s mother with a serious stare. His voice was stony and his expression very serious, but the emotions were real. And it stressed him. “I think she needs help. Really… Feel free to owl me.” Zephir heard footsteps approaching from behind the door and took an involuntary step backward. He was behaving like a boy. A stupid, irrational teenager. Why was the prospect of meeting this man so terrifying? Why did Charlie have that kind of power over him? Zephir followed his accidental step with an intentional one, and in moments he was off of their front step and walking away from their perfect little house. His shaky right hand was halfway into his pocket, feeling for his wand. He heard a male voice somewhere behind him, but he didn’t hear what the man was saying.