"She'll love it, there's no way she could say no with a diamond like that. Merry Christmas."

Jasper smiled as the last of his customers for the day, a young and grinning man buying a massive engagement ring, trailed out the door, bearing tidily wrapped Christie's packages. The bloke was so happy that Jasper almost felt bad about transfiguring the diamond that morning. Almost. She would never know. Christie's wrapping, gold ribbon against black box, was iconic around the holidays, which were incidentally now and most certainly his busiest time of year. He'd spent part of this morning decorating the shop for Christmas with loops of gold garland, white lights in the window twinkling against the jewels on display. Christmas was one of his favorite times of year, not only because he sold loads more merchandise than at any other point. He loved buying gifts. In fact, that was his plan for the rest of the evening, once he locked the door in a few minutes' time. Harrods was the best part of Christmas.

He was spending a few minutes restocking the cases where pieces of velvet had been left vacant by eager customers when he heard an unusual shuffling upstairs. He paused and looked at the ceiling, following the footsteps above. Someone was in the study. The shop door was quite obviously visible, which meant that whoever was there had used the back. Boys Club, then, or Cal. Probably not Cal, he normally came in through the shop if he knew Jasper was there and he was supposed to be at his lab tonight. Jasper had told him about shopping and he'd suddenly remembered some pressing work. Everyone else would just come in through the door too if they saw Jasper's lights on--everyone but Atlas. Atlas, then. He sighed and swished his wand to lock the front door and draw the shades, then bounded up the stairs.

At the top he took a left into the study. Atlas was standing in the middle of the floor uncertainly, his arm held at a strange angle away from his body. His sleeve was tattered, huge chunks of it missing entirely. Even though it was freezing outside, he had no coat. He looked oddly grimy, rumpled, almost disembodied. Jasper took another step into the room, but Atlas didn't turn to look at him immediately.

"Atlas? You okay mate?"

He tricked the lock on Jasper’s backdoor with little trouble. It was automatic, didn’t even have to think about the spell after all these years. Jasper never changed it. He bounded up the steps, stumbled and fell twice and when he burst out of the staircase and into the hall there was no sound, no trace. He had to be here, Atlas turned on his heel, stalked toward the bedroom, nothing, the kitchen, nothing there was a lab notebook, the corner of a cardboard box painted in bright yellow and blue serving as a marker, Atlas backed away from it like it was a snake.

Back through the hallway and into the study, nothing. Where was he? Where was he? Atlas’s eyes landed on a bottle of scotch and two glasses, out which meant Jasper might soon have had cause to use them. Where was he? Atlas looked down suddenly dimly recalling that this was the holiday season and that Jasper did actually have a job. A job that sometimes he even sought, to if there was prophet to be had and the Photons or the Life Takers or whatever band of the moment didn’t have something going on. He could’t go down there, there could be people. He lifted a booted foot and stomped, hoped the noise would carry.

His arm hurt. Atlas shuffled around the sofa, toward the mantle piece. There was a small line of wizarding photos. Jasper wasn’t the sentimental type but there were little bits of things he had allowed in his adult life. Atlas focused on the one to the far right. Taken about a week before graduation in 7th year. Will was reclined and watching Wendell warily as the man tromped along one of the schools infinite supply of chest high walls. Atlas himself was seated to Will’s right with Apollo next to him, Apollo had the corner of Atlas robe in his hand, a bedazzler in his other. Atlas watched as the expression on his face changed from trepidation and tolerance to outright horror when the bedazzler made contact. Jasper was the only one looking at the camera, elbows in the grass and patented smile on his face, only looking away when Wendell inevitably fell from his perch and then turning back to the camera and shrugging as if to say, ‘oh well what did you expect?’.

Atlas watched the picture, didn’t hear Jasper come in. Atlas? You okay mate?. He jumped back from the picture as if he had just been burned and found himself face to face with Jasper. “I did something horrible….I think…I don’t know.” He blinked, moved to try to get closer to Jasper, bumped against one of the chairs.

“If you take the body and you put it under duress there are certain things that result.” He stepped up to Jasper and pressed a hand flat against the other man’s chest. Jasper looked down, affronted and confused. “Like the bugs in 4th year. The bugs in the jars do you remember them? The way they moved? And then the way they didn’t?”

“Magic’s back.” He pulled away from Jasper; he couldn’t look at him anymore. “Magic’s back and I have a bug in my basement.” He stepped back again, brought his hands up and ground them hard into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to but I did….”

Atlas jumped at the sound of his voice, stumbling slightly on the deep pile of Jasper's carpet. He'd been staring at the picture near the center of Jasper's mantlepiece. Quite intently, considering he'd seen it thousands of times, was in the bloody thing. When Jasper turned toward the picture, his younger self flashed him a smile. He looked over at Atlas and didn't feel like smiling at all. Atlas was an unhealthy greyish color and there were smears of something dark across his knees and on his left hand. It's not something dark, it's blood. Christ.

Jasper's eyes moved upward and caught Atlas' left arm, and he felt a sudden wave of nausea so strong that he actually had to turn away, gagging. The skin was mottled with bright, shiny patches like newly healed skin. This was infinitely worse than whatever he'd been expecting. Had Atlas been hexed? It had to have been magical; he would have healed himself if it had been just a burn. Swallowing rapidly, Jasper made himself look at Atlas again, carefully avoiding his arm.

“I did something horrible….I think…I don’t know.”

Atlas took another stumbling step forward and Jasper caught himself shuffling backward. Stand still. He's your friend, there's no reason to panic. But he wanted to panic. Atlas didn't look like himself, there was too much white showing in his eyes, something wrong and hard about his mouth that made Jasper uncomfortable. Atlas had always been perilously close to the edge of normalcy, maybe he'd finally teetered over.

“If you take the body and you put it under duress there are certain things that result.”

He took another step and put his hand against Jasper's chest. Jasper recoiled, surprised by the contact but oddly thankful that it wasn't the other hand. He knew he would have been sick then. Jasper was repulsed by injury, by scarring. It made him think of the event that caused the wound, and it was practically intolerable. He needed to breathe normally. Atlas was speaking again, his voice wavering off pitch. Jasper hadn't seen him like this since the soul--had only seen him like this that one time. Nothing that bad could have happened again--

“Like the bugs in 4th year. The bugs in the jars do you remember them? The way they moved? And then the way they didn’t?”

What? Jasper's mind was blank for a minute, then it offered up an image of a basement classroom fourth year, sitting between Wendell and Will, watching their DADA professor flick his wand above a cringing spider on the head desk. Imperio. Crucio. Avada Kedavra. The spider danced, flipped into spasms, vanished. Fourteen-year old Jasper's stomach turned. Four years later, it would the same way in a remote part of India, facing a Muggle tourist in a mildewed ruin. In his study, twenty-six year old Jasper felt it again. Atlas couldn't be serious. He had to mean something else. It was Atlas, a man so compassionate that he'd adopted an apocalyptic skeleton out of pity. Well, compassionate except for--

“Magic’s back.” Atlas' voice lilted oddly and he stepped away.

--Cal. Oh f--k.

“Magic’s back and I have a bug in my basement.” He stepped back again, brought his hands up and ground them hard into his eyes. “I didn’t mean to but I did….”

Jasper felt sick again. Everything was becoming detached in his world. Atlas had gone mad, was babbling. He had to be confused, there was no way, an Unforgivable--he knew better, surely.

"Atlas, you didn't. You're--was it him? What the f--k did you do to him?" He couldn't think of what question to ask first and they all boiled out. He didn't even feel like himself; Jasper Christie didn't speak like this. It was undignified. But Atlas and his burns and blood all over him and Cal, because he had to be talking about Cal, there was no one else. "What happened to your arm? What's in your basement? You can't be serious about the bugs--Atlas, c'mon, an Unforgivable, you can't--"

He was about to say do that, but then he looked at Atlas again and knew that he could.

He wasn’t looking at Jasper but if he had been he could imagine what he might have seen. Anger, and disbelief and hatred. All of them were emotions that were alien to be seeing from the other man, but Atlas could hear them in his voice, see them in the way Jasper was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the way he had locked his knees in an effort to make himself taller.

Atlas, you didn’t. But he had and both of them knew it, at least Jasper was coming to know it, slowly. You’re— Whatever Jasper was going to say was lost, gone, Atlas would never get to hear what he had been about to say because it was as he said it that Jasper realized what the bug was. Who Atlas mind grated, who, hes a person, not a thing, proper person. Like Darien was a person…Atlas thought he might throw up. But Jasper was still talking he needed to listen.

was it him? What the f--k did you do to him?. Atlas should have brought a bulleted list. He could hand that off to Jasper and just disappear somewhere…forever. What happened to your arm? What's in your basement? You can't be serious about the bugs--Atlas, c'mon, an Unforgivable, you can't—

“This went array…I, was myself, too much myself. I don’t do well when I have to be me.” He looked at Jasper then and was surprised to see that his whole hadn’t been overcome with anger. Atlas had expected stone faced, livid range he hadn’t expected worry. But there it was, in Jasper’s eyes more than anywhere else. Atlas frowned at them, blinked, tried to warp the expression to something else that he would be able to understand. He needed things to be the same, change was counter productive at this point. The panic was starting to lessen, the madness was receededing. Atlas wished that it would stay because the cold light of sanity was going to be so much worse.

His arm twitched against his side, as if to remind him that Jasper had asked a question. “He was trying to defend himself…he should have aimed for the head. Someone should have taught him.” He stalked past Jasper, the motion stricken and jerky, he was tired, the spells had been taxing. He bullied his legs, they were going to carry him back home, it wasn’t that far. “We have to go. I don’t know…” he stopped at the door to the back stair case, Jasper was behind him, following at a cautious distance, like he was scared of him. Fair enough. “You’re my mate Jasper.”

This was going to be it he realized. Jasper standing at the top of the steps as Atlas blinked up at him. Atlas supposed there should be flashbacks, some sort of song playing in the background. There was just silence. “We have to go, I left him. Didn’t want to carry him. Could have made it worse.” He raced down the steps, legs and lungs burning, entered the open door of SHOP and hobbled into the basement, he could hear Jasper behind him.

Atlas was looking at him expectantly, as though he was waiting for Jasper to do something to him. But Jasper didn't know what to do, because Atlas hadn't told him anything concrete yet. He was just babbling. Things went awry. Well, obviously, Atlas. That's a contender for Understatement of the Year. I ostensibly performed an incredibly horrible spell on someone completely defenseless. Things went awry. Jasper could feel a weird, shaky anger building up in his chest. Atlas was still talking, holding up his arm.

“He was trying to defend himself…he should have aimed for the head. Someone should have taught him.” He moved toward the door and Jasper followed silently, quickly. “We have to go. I don’t know… A pause and he looked back, eyes wide and fearful. You’re my mate Jasper.”

No no no. Atlas looked like he wanted to cry. Jasper was so angry that he literally could not speak because his entire throat and chest were vibrating with it. Atlas was halfway down the stairs now, head tilted upward, and Jasper wondered how hard it would be to push him down, watch him somersault over and crash into the wall of the landing. How satisfying the sound would be. It scared him how unlike his thoughts those were.

“We have to go, I left him. Didn’t want to carry him. Could have made it worse.”

Then Atlas was gone, sprinting down the stairs and across the alley to the closest door of SHOP. Down into the basement, Jasper catching up by taking the stairs two at a time precariously downward. They'd been right next door, this had happened while he was selling that man the engagement ring, smiling, thinking about what he was going to get Apollo for Christmas. Atlas had been here with Cal, doing God only knew what. He took the last step hard onto the stone floor of the basement and skidded, wheeling around to face the shadowy room. There was Atlas, the oddments of his basement and--

--nothing. A smear of blood on the floor. Jasper spun. The walls of the basement were old, rough stone, and he put both hands on Atlas' shoulders and slammed him back against one. The running had been a release somehow, and he found he could speak again, gasping in air.

"I am many things, Caedmon. But at this point--one of them is most certainly not your mate."

His voice had been level until now, but it was unsustainable.

"Where--" He jerked Atlas forward and back so his head bounced against the stone-- "is--" shake, shake-- "he?!"

He turned again to look out again at the empty floor. There was nothing there. The blood glistened lazily in the light from the single bulb on the ceiling.

"Where is he?! Come on Atlas, you know!" One hand slid down to the ruined skin of Atlas' wrist. He gagged as he touched it, but tightened his fingers and twisted them. His voice dropped into a snarl, rising slowly across the words. "Does that hurt? Maybe someone should have f--king taught him how to throw acid better! So he could protect himself from barmy f--ks who kidnap him and do--"

It occurred to him that he didn't even know which curse it had been. God, any of them would be horrible, but-- He reached down and snatched at Atlas' wand. The other man resisted for a moment.

"F--king give it to me, Caedmon!" He tore the thing free and pulled out his own wand. "Prior Incantato."

The result made him gag, and he had to look away from Atlas, hunched over for a moment with his hands on his knees, willing himself not to vomit. Of all the spells, of anything he could have done. The other man's wand fell from his hand and clattered on the floor. This was it; Atlas had gone mad, he was gone. One of Jasper's oldest friends. It was better to think he was gone, than to think he was still Atlas and such a monster, someone capable of this. He turned again, thinking he could be calm, but the second he caught Atlas' face he realized it was utterly impossible. His fingers dug into his palm where they were curled around his wand.

"You CRUCIOED him?! How could you even f--king think of that? You've gone out of your mind, not that you were ever more than barely into it!" He found himself close to Atlas again, as though it had happened without his knowledge, practically pressing him bodily into the wall, straining upward to be face to face, his voice dropping and shaking with rage. One hand pressed up onto Atlas' throat, fingers digging into the soft flesh under his chin. "I should f--king kill you right now. It's inhuman, you're inhuman. Tell me where the f--k he is. Where his body is, if that's how much of a monster you've become."

Atlas stood at the bottom of the stairs, mouth hanging open starring at where Cal had been, ought to be. There was the blood…it had happened there was blood, there was Cal where was he? Atlas looked up the stairs as Jasper bolted past him, no smears on the stairs, Cal hadn’t taken the stairs…Atlas would have looked more but suddenly he was against the wall, Jasper’s long fingered hands pushing back against his shoulders with all the strength the spindly man could muster.

Atlas looked past his shoulder at where Cal should have been. I am many thing, Caedmon. But at this point—one of them is most certainly not your mate. No. And you never will be again will you? Jasper’s face and neck were red from exertion and the fear was gone from his eyes when shook Atlas against the wall like a rag doll. Where is he!? Each word was punctuated with the crack of Atlas’s head against the stone.

Jasper turned and let go, looking around the room wildly, as if maybe if he looked away Cal would be there. Atlas brought his right hand up to the back of his head, it felt a little sticky, Jasper was stronger than he looked. Where is he?! Come on Atlas, you know! Jasper’s hand closed around the burn eliciting a hiss of pain. He didn’t try to shake the man off; his grip felt like a vice. It would have been useless. I don’t! He tried to shout back but all that came up was a half moan. Does that hurt? Maybe someone should have f--king taught him how to throw acid better! So he could protect himself from barmy f--ks who kidnap him and do—. Jasper let go but the moment of reprieve was short lived when the other man reached for his wand. Atlas resisted, in part because now Jasper would know, beyond any doubt or reasoning what Atlas had done, but also because he had so recently required his magic. He’d be powerless without it, he’d be…like Cal…Atlas let go.

Jasper gagged and Atlas could think of no better reaction. He closed his eyes against what the wand showed, turning his head against the stonewall. He watched Jasper’s back as the other man retched; Jasper’s shoulder blades came together, nearly touching with every heave that wrung itself out of him. He hadn’t meant to…he thought you had ‘to mean it’ that’s what everybody said but he hadn’t….Whatever was in Jasper’s stomach seemed determined to stay there. The jeweler stood, stayed facing the wall. Jasper turned, looked as if he was lost and then tightened his grip on his wand. Atlas had seen how far he could go, maybe now it was Jasper’s turn.

You CRUCIOED him?! How could you even f--king think of that? You've gone out of your mind, not that you were ever more than barely into it! He swallowed, wetting his throat so he could answer, try to answer, but Jasper was faster. His hand knotted around Atlas’s throat pressing into his wind pipe. I should f--king kill you right now. It's inhuman, you're inhuman. Tell me where the f--k he is. Where his body is, if that's how much of a monster you've become.

His body? Did he really think...Atlas was struck by the image of Rudolph in the tiny back garden digging a hole with his brittle little skeleton hands. Every time he tried to put the shovel the ground one of his fingers cracked off and the cracking sounded like bone because it was and then he thought of Cal and....Maybe he had killed him...maybe Cal was dead and he had hallucinated those moments where he had checked the mans vitals and Cal had looked at him. He couldn't blame Jasper for thinking it, there were so many places in SHOP Atlas could hide a body.

The face of Jasper’s anger was terrifying, but it was right. He was right, Atlas didn’t fight the grip, he looked everywhere but Jasper’s face, but everywhere but Jasper’s face was worse. He caught sight of the hand print on the back of the wall. “ I didn’t think….I didn’t mean….” Jasper’s grip tightened, and this time, unaware of the action Atlas raised a hand to stop him. His right hand tugged at Jasper’s unyielding wrist before giving up. “You should, I am, I don’t know."

"I don’t know where he is Jasper. I….”He swallowed, he could feel Jasper's thumb more prominently as he did so. “He was right there…he couldn’t have moved.” Jasper’s eyes asked why. “His ribs are broken, acid burn to the throat…. punctured lung….” He should stop, but now he was confessing and it was hard. “He wasn’t moving…after I….” He couldn’t say it. “He was breathing but he wasn’t moving, I came to get you.” He looked at Jasper helplessly, “He said your name. God Jasper I wasn’t going to….”

Atlas' eyes shifted away from Jasper and back. Away again, flinching at something on the wall and returning to Jasper's face once more. The light in the basement was an unhealthy, jaundiced yellow that put spectral circles under his eyes. He wheezed slightly, but Jasper didn't drop his hand. His mind was still working to believe this. Atlas. They'd been friends since they were barely even people. He'd put his life on the line for the man, barely weeks ago, with that misbegotten transference experiment. But that should have shown him the problem; Atlas didn't know when to stop.

“ I didn’t think….I didn’t mean….”

Didn't mean to. Oh, sure. Jasper squeezed harder and Atlas' hand flailed up against his arm, which only made him flex his fingers more until it slipped away again. He relaxed slightly so Atlas could have enough air to confess.

“You should, I am, I don’t know."

God, he probably had killed him if he was telling Jasper he deserved to die. Not that Jasper would ever have it in him to kill someone. Even in the extremity of anger he just wanted to hurt Atlas. Maybe because he knew that, for someone with such an obsessive mind, living with the guilt would be a thousand times worse. That, at least, if what he thought was true, was a small comfort.

"I don’t know where he is Jasper. I….” He paused to swallow and Jasper unconsciously jammed his thumb in harder. He'd never expected this kind of compulsive violence from himself. But then, he'd never had something like this happen to someone so close.

“He was right there…he couldn’t have moved. His ribs are broken, acid burn to the throat…. punctured lung….He wasn’t moving…after I….” A pause. Coward. Beating up people weaker than you, then you can't even confess properly. Jasper's lips pressed together in disdain. "He was breathing but he wasn’t moving, I came to get you. He said your name. God Jasper I wasn’t going to….”

Jasper let out a gasping laugh at the last sentences. "He said my name?! Are you--is that supposed to be some sick way of making me feel better? You Crucioed him, but my name may have been his dying words?" He dropped his hand contemptuously, pleased at the red welts along Atlas' throat. "Well, thanks, what a comfort."

He turned away from Atlas and looked again at the blood on the floor. A smeared mark on the wall and another place a few feet away on the stones covered in tiny droplets. Aerated blood, Jasper realized after a moment. Punctured lung, God, God. It was intolerable to look at. He raised his wand and the spattered place on the wall exploded in a flash of red. Somewhere in the back of the basement, something metal clattered onto the floor.

"What part of the spell did that happen during?" He spun back to Atlas and aimed at the handprint, obliterating it. "That one? Was that before or after the acid burns? Did he even throw acid at you, or were you just clumsy pouring it on him?!" Snap of his wand and there was a hole in the floor. "What happened to him if he wasn't moving when you left?! Did he make a miraculous recovery and walk out?!"

He glanced around the room. No blood left. Back toward Atlas, wand out to hold him still.

"When did you stop meaning it, exactly? After the ribs? No, no, you still had the punctured lung to look forward to. I'm guessing after he was unconscious. Possibly once he was dead? Is this some sort of sick coverup? Is his body here somewhere?!" He put his wand under Atlas' chin and tilted his head up. "Tell me the truth, Caedmon, you can't just lose someone. Here, I'll help you get started, just repeat after me--After I Crucioed him..."

Atlas flinched.

"Come on, Atlas. If you can do it, you can certainly say it."

Jasper’s laugh harsh and hallow made Atlas blink try to draw away, but he was already against the wall there was nowhere else to do. Jasper barely had the breath for it, the shock of it reverberating through his smaller frame. Atlas had never in his life heard Jasper make a noise like that.

He said my name?! Are you--is that supposed to be some sick way of making me feel better? You Crucioed him, but my name may have been his dying words? Atlas didn’t know what he meant by it, it had jut seemed important. He wondered if Jasper might kill him after all, play the whole situation out like some Greek tragedy, or terrible horror film. Atlas hoped he would make up his mind soon the more time Jasper spent not killing him the more time they lost in trying to find Cal. Jasper’s hand loosened and then fell away entirely. Atlas didn’t dare move to massage the skin his friend’s hand had just left.

“I just thought you ought to know.” He wheezed out, turned his head to cough once, and then again. Jasper’s attention was turned back to the far wall, to the bloodstains now marring it. Atlas shoved away from the wall, just enough so that the rough stone was digging into his back. When he raised his wand Atlas had no idea of what he was doing, the flash and reign of sparks blinded him for a moment and he turned his head, blinking rapidly to get the spots out of his eyes.

What part of the spell did that happen during? Atlas was aware Jasper was facing him again only because he felt the rush of air when the man turned. Another flash and the world went speckled again. That one? Was that before or after the acid burns? Did he even throw acid at you, or were you just clumsy pouring it on him?! There was a small explosion, enough to send bits of the clay floor into the air, they feel with hollow little clinking noises as they touched back to the ground. These were parlor tricks, warm ups, Jasper was flippantly using magic to prove a point, punctuating his questions with spells. What happened to him if he wasn't moving when you left?! Did he make a miraculous recovery and walk out?!

Atlas had finally cleared his vision only to find himself starring down Jasper’s wand, not a very good place to be, especially when he wasn’t armed. In a duel he could beat Jasper, things tended to unbalance the man easily, but if Jasper could get a clear shot, when Atlas wasn’t armed and not fast enough to go for his wand. His eyes searched in the dark for where Jasper had flung his wand…too far. He swallowed but didn’t move.

When did you stop meaning it, exactly? After the ribs? No, no, you still had the punctured lung to look forward to. I'm guessing after he was unconscious. Possibly once he was dead? Is this some sort of sick coverup? Is his body here somewhere?! With each sentence Jasper’s voice rose in pitch and tenor until he was yelling, screaming, lips pulled back shoulders squared. Atlas grimaced at the point of the wand pressing into his throat and angled his head up, trying to get away. It was a useless reaction.

Tell me the truth… I can’t. Because the truth didn’t matter anymore, not really it had been completely overshadowed by what had occurred here. As far as Atlas knew Darien hadn’t suffered, not overtly at least, Cal had, still was somewhere? He had underestimated Jasper’s reaction. Here, I'll help you get started, just repeat after me--After I Crucioed him....

Atlas flinched; drove himself back against the wall, the movement of his head drove the wand painfully into the space where his chin met his throat. “I needed to believe him.” He answered knowing Jasper could easily do something unseemly to him from this position. Jasper’s lips flattened into a line he pressed harder. “After I crucioed him,” Atlas’s mouth went dry. “He was catatonic. His eyes were open but there wasn’t anyone there. I don’t know how long the spell went on, I blacked out. I dropped my wand, that’s what stopped it.”

He looked up, at the ceiling at the light bulb, swinging back and forth, disrupted by Jasper’s spells. “I broke his ribs with a aero spell…chest compression. He threw the acid in a bid to distract me and it did. But I lost track of the spell, force had broken the bones before I noticed. That was first. Second was a full body bind, the acid, I threatened to use the bone growth hex….” Jasper would know which one he was talking about, Atlas had owled him about it, told him how uncivilized things were in that part of the world… uncivilized. “He told me what I wanted to hear but I didn’t believe him.” He looked down at Jasper suddenly. “I didn’t think about it, it just happened. There was screaming, he was trying to get away, I hypothesize he did further injury when he flailed.”

Atlas leaned his head down, closer to Jasper’s face. “But he was alive when I left! Unresponsive but alive, if he were dead he’d be right there!” He raised a hand and jutted his index finger in the direction of the area behind him. “But he’s not….I didn’t kill him! I swear!”

A realization dawned suddenly. “You love him. Sh-t you….I didn’t realize.” That hadn’t even occurred…it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. “We need to think of how he could have gotten away, where he might go…I’m sorry Jasper. I just, I felt like I had to.”

“I needed to believe him.”

Jasper felt his face slowly slacken as Atlas continued, cataloguing the complete atrocity of the evening as though he was telling Jasper about the book he was reading or a new flavor of ice cream at Fortescue's. He could barely believe that Atlas could order it so well. The last bit--he'd nearly used a bone growth hex--Jasper bit the side of his tongue so he wouldn't gag again. He remembered Atlas' owl about that; it was one of the most strikingly inhumane things he'd ever heard. The fact that Atlas had even contemplated it assured him that something had gone desperately wrong in his mind.

“He told me what I wanted to hear but I didn’t believe him.” Atlas' voice became more urgent and he craned his neck so he could look down at Jasper, trying to arch away from his wand. Jasper pushed upward to keep the contact. “I didn’t think about it, it just happened. There was screaming, he was trying to get away, I hypothesize he did further injury when he flailed.”

"Oh yes, how foolish of him to flail when he was in excrutiating pain. God knows why he didn't just hold still."

Jasper's sniping seemed to wake Atlas up from the strange stupor he'd given the previous account in, and he leaned down toward Jasper compulsively, shoving his wand back against his palm. His voice jumped over the words, suddenly hysterical.

“But he was alive when I left! Unresponsive but alive, if he were dead he’d be right there!” He flailed out at the floor where Jasper had gouged the blood away with something that was more anger than actual magic. “But he’s not….I didn’t kill him! I swear!”

Atlas paused, swallowed and blinked, and his eyes had changed.

"You love him. Sh-t you….I didn’t realize.”

What? Atlas thought--now? Of all times to bring up something so utterly absurd. Well, he was acting that way, wasn't he? Hysterical. He was as bad as Atlas at the moment. Jasper let his wand drop, a bit ashamed of himself but still boiling over with rage. You love him...I didn't realize Me either, Atlas, because it isn't true. It was none of his business. That was the problem with Atlas. He had to be involved in everything that wasn't his business, and he didn't know when to let it go. It wasn't true, anyhow. It was ridiculous. Concern because Cal was possibly dead wasn't the same as loving him. Jasper didn't. He didn't know what he felt for Cal, but it wasn't as soft as love. Atlas didn't understand it at all. He barely understood it, and didn't need it expressed so incorrectly.

“We need to think of how he could have gotten away, where he might go…I’m sorry Jasper. I just, I felt like I had to.”

Now he was justifying it? Ridiculous. Ridiculous. He took a step back, too repulsed to stand closer. His hands clenched and unclenched because he couldn't figure out what to do with them, with the anger vibrating through his body that didn't have an outlet.

"You had to WHAT?! You had to torture him so badly that you FORGOT IT WAS HAPPENING?! What did you have to know so much that it justifies this?! What did you find out?! Illuminate me! It had better be good, Atlas, because this isn't one of the f--king idiotic conspiracy theories I've humored from you for the past decade-- Cal is a real person and it was a real spell and you can really go to Azkaban for this.[/i]

He started pacing the small open space in the basement, his shoes muffled on the clay. He didn't want to shout suddenly. Sadness was creeping into the anger. The thought of Cal alive somewhere, injured, possibly dying, wasn't really preferable to death. "Maybe you deserve to if you killed him. But you claim you didn't, so come on, find him."

He stopped and shifted from foot to foot, then stared Atlas down. "I don't love him. I'd just like to know he's not dying somewhere. That's compassion, not love, but I doubt you'd be able to tell the difference anyway."

Atlas was just standing. Like he was waiting to cross the street or get a table at a restaurant. Jasper snatched his wand up from the floor and whipped it across the room at him, not caring if he snapped it. He probably should have, Atlas wasn't stable enough to have magic. He raised his own and thought of Cal as hard as he could, every detail, every eyelash and thin finger and angle.

"Accio Ferox."

There was the familiar tug of Summoning, then the magic snapped back at him. The spell had been bounced back. Which meant it had gone somewhere, it had been able to find Cal somewhere. Which meant that Cal had gone somewhere. Jasper made himself breathe. He was somewhere. Alive? Please, please. Atlas was still standing there.

"Come on! You can at least make yourself f--king useful!"

Jasper took a sweeping step backwards, lowering his wand and letting his arms fall down to his side. His hands clenched and unclenched, a bored, restless motion. Atlas took the opportunity to scrub a hand over the raw patch on his throat. You had to WHAT?! Atlas winced as Jasper’s voice hit a perfect pitch and caused a ring in his eardrums. You had to torture him so badly that you FORGOT IT WAS HAPPENING?! What did you have to know so much that it justifies this?! What did you find out?! Illuminate me! It had better be good, Atlas, because this isn't one of the f--king idiotic conspiracy theories I've humored from you for the past decade-- Cal is a real person and it was a real spell and you can really go to Azkaban for this..

This Atlas hadn’t considered, his hand stopped at his throat, came up to his chin in a contemplative gesture. It was actually relatively unlikely, not with what he had, the notes, what Fletcher had told him, he didn’t doubt that given the opportunity Garrow would testify against Cal. He had used an Unforgivable and there were penalties, but he could argue momentary insanity, or any other number of counter arguments. Legally things were likely to fall on his side, but mentioning any of this to Jasper meant mentioning what Cal had done what Atlas had found out. He looked at Jasper who had begun to stalk back and forth over the floor, prowling around the basement.

“Would you turn me in Jasper?” He asked, no accusation just a question. “Hand me over to Will and be done with it?” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I had to know the truth and Cal knew it and he has known it!” He reigned in his voice, one of them yelling was bad enough both and they would never get anywhere. “It doesn’t matter what I find, it doesn’t justify it.”

Some of the anger was spent and now that it was it was being replaced by another emotion, one Atlas was having great difficulty identifying. He couldn’t tell Jasper. Jasper wasn’t listening to him anymore. Maybe you deserve to if you killed him. But you claim you didn't, so come on, find him.

Jasper stooped pacing, turned and faced Atlas. With his shoulders stooped and that imperious look on his face Jasper seemed almost child like. I don't love him. I'd just like to know he's not dying somewhere. That's compassion, not love, but I doubt you'd be able to tell the difference anyway. This wasn’t a time to discuss semantics and Atlas wasn’t going to try, not with Jasper in this mood, instead he just shook his head. He was surprised when Jasper threw his wand back to him, more surprised when he managed to catch it.

Accio Ferox. Atlas looked around half expectantly, nothing. Come on! You can at least make yourself f--king useful!

“What you’re asking is unreasonable. What do want me to do conjure bloodhounds to trace something that didn’t actually move? Doesn’t have an invisibility cloak does he?” Atlas was starting to come back to himself, to reassert himself over the skittish thing that had been in control for far to long. Cal was alive, finding him was a task he could focus on that. “A squib with no magical abilities in a room with no portkey can’t get out by itself. Its impossible. He’d either have to get out physically, or someone would have to…..” Atlas trailed off shoved past Jasper and stepped into the space Cal had previously occupied. He felt something…residue. He marched back to Jasper laced his fingers into the back of the man’s collar and pulled. Jasper resisted, twisted like a kitten when it was picked up against its will. His boots were nice, but they had no traction and he more or less skidded across the floor. Atlas let go as soon as they were back near the wall, holding up his hands and stepping back cautiously.

“You’re the sensitive one. Tell me you feel that? Magical disturbance. Right where he was.”

Atlas had on the face that Jasper loathed. Loathed. Imperious and practically omniscient. Jasper could all but hear the snide, exacting comments in his head. Atlas had a nearly irrepressible desire for correction and Jasper barely tolerated it at the best of times. Now even the thought of it made him want to jam the dull end of his wand into the other man's stomach. Just below the ribs would be best, the soft flesh that covered the liver--Get a hold of yourself, Christie.

He stood in the middle of the floor, still hoping somehow that the Accio would take late effect and Cal would appear. Foolish, he knew, but there it was. False hope was at least momentarily better than no hope. Atlas was speaking, suddenly, his voice full of that horrible knowing.

“What you’re asking is unreasonable[...]A squib with no magical abilities in a room with no portkey can’t get out by itself. Its impossible. He’d either have to get out physically, or someone would have to…..”

There was a moment of silence as Atlas stared into space, then he was brushing past Jasper, away from the wall for the first time since they'd come into the basement. He stopped for a moment in the center of the floor then wheeled back and rushed at Jasper.

He was being pulled across the floor. It was such a bizarre sensation that Jasper thought at first he was imagining it. Surely Atlas wasn't this much of an idiot. But the tightening of his collar and tie around his neck made it true. His soles scrabbled against the soft clay of the floor, but it was too smooth to grip, so he twisted helplessly in Atlas' grasp. It occurred to him that this must have been precisely how Cal felt and the thought made him struggle harder. Atlas dropped his hand when they'd reached an arbitrary part of the floor.

“You’re the sensitive one. Tell me you feel that? Magical disturbance--

Jasper didn't hear the end of the sentence, barely managed to recognize that words had come from Atlas' mouth. He lurched forward, still out of breath, and snatched up Atlas' wrists, pulling him forward. He realized that he didn't have a plan then, so he settled for bringing his knee up into Atlas' stomach as hard as he could, a smile twisting his face when it met that soft bit he'd thought of just minutes before, then flung him backwards and let go.

"DON'T EVER F--KING TOUCH ME! STAY THE F--K AWAY FROM ME, CAEDMON!" Jasper could hear his own voice reverberating throughout SHOP, knew he was spitting with every word. He had his wand out, pointed squarely at Atlas, but his eyes were vibrating with such anger that he knew he couldn't aim a spell.

"Now--" He dropped his voice, his throat was raw from the screaming and his shirt dragging across the outside-- "Cal is an "it" now? I mean, I guess I understand, your grasp on human rights is obviously limited since you tortured him. What did you learn from all your hard work? What did he tell you? What doesn't justify this? It had better f--king justify it to me."

He took a wary step backward, and felt it. Jasper was the sensitive one, and the magical residue was obvious, tingling across his skin. It was strangely foreign, shivering up his spine. It wasn't Atlas' magic, he was accustomed to that in SHOP. Someone had been here, maybe Cal had managed to find someone-- He snapped his wand in Atlas' direction and a spell whisked past his head and exploded against the wall.

"Hurry up, I've got better things to do than listen to you."

Maybe manhandling Jasper had been a poor decision. That was a clear thought in Atlas head as his friend turned around fury written all over his every movement. You should really move was another clear thought but it was the last one for some time because in the next instant Jasper’s hands wound their way around Atlas’s wrist; which he had been foolish enough to leave up in an offertory position.

It hurt, well on one side, the other twinged but it was bearable. There was a moment where he exchanged a look with Jasper silently asking the other man, ‘alright well now what?’. A look stole over Jasper’s face a strange mixture of the expression he used to get when he had just thought of the newest prank to pull, the latest heist, but it was a look Atlas didn’t see much anymore, because he didn’t often have occasion to be in the settings Jasper used it in. Atlas broke eye contact when Jasper’s obscenely boney knee was driven hard into his lower abdomen. Jasper let go. Well, let go with force, and Atlas went to the ground. He managed to catch himself on his hands, let his elbows absorb the shock. He retched, dry heaved when there was nothing in his stomach to come up, repeated the action. Jasper was screaming, his voice wrenched, Atlas gagged and spared his left hand to press into the spot above his liver. He nearly fell when he right arm threatened to buckle.

DON'T EVER F--KING TOUCH ME! STAY THE F--K AWAY FROM ME, CAEDMON! Atlas hacked, looked up at Jasper, refocused his eyes when he found he was face to face with the tip of Jasper’s wand. What were they doing? He hadn’t meant the action to be threatening; it was faster than trying to verbally reason with Jasper. Jasper was making how he felt about it very clear. It might have been funny under different circumstances; Jasper’s shirt was untucked on one side, his tie completely askew, hair in a similar situation.

Now… The voice that had been screaming returned to something more resembling Jasper. His hand came up and carefully straightened out his shirt collar and his tie before continuing. Atlas, eyes always on his wand slowly clamored back to his feet. Jasper had never struck him before, not like he meant it at least. A few scuffles here and there, that was normal but, Atlas retched again.

Cal is an "it" now? I mean, I guess I understand, your grasp on human rights is obviously limited since you tortured him. What did you learn from all your hard work? What did he tell you? What doesn't justify this? It had better f--king justify it to me. Atlas said nothing, watched Jasper step into the area where the abnormality was, there was a slight almost imperceptible crease to his brow and then he turned back firing off a shot far to close to Atlas head for comfort. Hurry up, I've got better things to do than listen to you.

“He was….f—k.” Atlas turned his head and spit. “I went to see Logan Fletcher. He confirmed it Jasper, Calixtus was working for Edward Garrow.” Still coughing Atlas waved a hand at his workbench. “Its all there his formulas, you’ve worked with him Jasper you can see it!” Atlas straightened up, almost approached but Jasper lifted his wand like he meant it and Atlas stayed still. “Fletcher said his name and the whole universe just tipped.” This might be the last time Atlas got to explain anything to Jasper. “He helped him and he was going to get away with it. I just wanted to know the truth. Then it wasn’t enough because Holywell still died, just like Garrow’s test subjects died, and there’s a ward full of people at St Mungos who can’t die because they’re still here but not. It’s not right. But the Ministry and the Aurors and Will, they got their big fish. They got Garrow and they got a trial and he’s rotting but what about the others?”

He sighed, craned his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I thought he was an evil genius…that there was malice in it. I wasn’t wrong about him doing it, but I was wrong about why…he just wanted to be like us.” He looked back at Jasper. “Who would want to be like us? I’m sorry Jasper, I’m so sorry.”

“He was….f—k.”

Atlas paused, coughing and spitting, and Jasper felt his lips peel back horribly into a smile.

“I went to see Logan Fletcher. He confirmed it Jasper, Calixtus was working for Edward Garrow. Its all there his formulas, you’ve worked with him Jasper you can see it!”

He was standing now, uneasily, and Jasper pointed his wand more firmly, glancing over at the workbench to the papers Atlas had gestured at. The formulas were familiar. You've worked with him Jasper. That made him uncomfortable. He felt sullied, used, by the thought that Cal had coerced him into working on something for Garrow--that monster. If Atlas was inhuman, Garrow was something unspeakable. Depending on what Atlas said next-- The other man was looking at him desperately, eyes begging Jasper to pay attention. He could barely listen over the resonance of his own anger in his mind.

“He helped him and he was going to get away with it. I just wanted to know the truth. Then it wasn’t enough[...]

And that tipped him solidly back to anger, because it could never be enough for Atlas. He couldn't let things go. It was why SHOP was full of every piece of garbage he'd collected in the last decade, why he forced Jasper through his absurd "investigations" of conspiracies constructed from nothing, why he hadn't known when to stop with Cal. Jasper believed wholeheartedly in the need for caution and precision, and Atlas understood nothing of it.

“I thought he was an evil genius…that there was malice in it. I wasn’t wrong about him doing it, but I was wrong about why…he just wanted to be like us. Who would want to be like us? I’m sorry Jasper, I’m so sorry.”

The relief was overwhelming, so powerful that Jasper could feel the tension melting out of his muscles and it left him shaking. He realized that he'd thought Atlas was going to tell him Cal was guilty. No matter how horrible that would have been, it would have been the only justification for what he had done. Now there was none. He'd tortured Cal and discovered innocence. Not innocence, precisely. The equations were there; Cal had written them. But he hadn't done them for Garrow. Not for Garrow's purposes. He just wanted to be like us. Who would want to be like us?

"Who would want to be like us? Who would want power like this? Petrificus totalus." Atlas froze and Jasper let him drop stiffly to the floor and stood over him. "If you were blind, wouldn't you want vision when you were in a room full of people who could see?"

He left Atlas on the cold clay and went back to the center of the floor, letting the magic hum around him and trying to sort it out. Totally unfamiliar. It was either a spell he didn't know, or magic that had been performed by something inhuman. Either prospect, coupled with the radio silence that had met his Summoning, filled him with doubt.

"So you tortured him and found out what I tried to tell you all along. He wasn't guilty, Atlas. That's where all your hard work got you. You must be so proud." His voice was calmer now; he was thinking of other things, cataloguing places he could look for Cal. "Look on the bright side, at least you'll learn why they're called Unforgivables."

He flicked his wand and Atlas' limbs fell loose on the floor.

"It's impossible to think that you were ever my friend. Never speak to me again."

He raised his wand, ready to Apparate away, secretly pleased that his last view of Atlas would be the other man cringing on the floor.

All the tension and anger melted off of Jasper, water from the wings of a duck and before he said anything Atlas knew he had lost him. It was the way his face changed, the way he was looking at him like he’d look at someone passing on the streets or one of the countless models. Jasper used people; it was one of the defining characteristics of his whole nature. He used them because they were pretty, or they were smart, or funny but it was a very rare case when Jasper used someone because he felt genuine affection toward them.

These were the really lucky ones, the ones with the privilege to know Jasper instead of just knowing the outer layers for a night, or the duration of a heist. People who got to know that Jasper loved Cary Grant movies, that he would watch To Catch A Thief 24 hours a day if anyone would stand for it, and that his first crushes had been a Ford Sun Beam and Grace Kelly respectively. He had gotten the Sun Beam at 17, Grace Kelly had never worked out. People who know that he couldn’t ride a bike, that seeing other people in pain made him physically ill, that he had one scar and only one scar on the whole of his body, back of the knee the result of a hex, even fewer knew Jasper was secretly proud of the mark. All of these things, small, inconsequential but still valuable things no one ever got to know because Jasper didn’t allow it. Atlas was one of the people in the know.

Who would want to be like us? Who would want power like this? Petrificus totalus. He didn’t try to block the spell, he might have been able to…or he could have cast something else, knocked Jasper off balance but it didn’t seem worth it. He’d let Jasper have this; it was his right. A shadow fell over him but his frozen body wasn’t in a position to look up at Jasper’s face. If you were blind, wouldn't you want vision when you were in a room full of people who could see?.

Then he moved away and Atlas had a clear view of his shoes, scuffed on the edges, laden with dust. Later Jasper would curse and ramble about where they had come from, how much he had spent, how much care went into them. Hadn’t Atlas sold him a pair of boots before?

So you tortured him and found out what I tried to tell you all along. He wasn't guilty, Atlas. That's where all your hard work got you. You must be so proud. Had he been able to he would have closed his eyes, or plugged his ears, those little childish actions you do when something isn’t to your liking, when hearing and seeing something makes it a reality so you try not to. Jasper used everyone but for years he had chosen to use Atlas and that was something, that was friendship, he wouldn’t use him again. Look on the bright side, at least you'll learn why they're called Unforgivables. Jasper let the spell go and Atlas continued to lie boneless on the floor. He did turn his head to look at Jasper, who stood collected and calm, and very far away.

It’s impossible to that that you were ever my friend. Never speak to me again. As was custom it appeared Jasper was going to have the final word, the final act of a friendship spanning over a decade. His wand was up, in a moment he’d be gone Atlas should say something should try and stop him but all he did was watch, letting the words seep in, they felt like little inward pointed daggers. Jasper always had such a way with words, it was a magic all his own the ability to assemble consonants and vowels into something that could really wound that could rend and ultimately destroy. Then he was gone and Atlas remembered how to breath. He pushed himself up off the floor with one arm, mindful of the burn still knowing through his left. When he met the wall he drew up his knees and for the first time since this day had started he thought.

He didn’t know how long, awhile, he might have fallen asleep at one point. He thought and analyzed and pondered, considered ruminated and when he couldn’t anymore he got up and stiffly made his way up the stairs. He moved the hallway like someone dead, eyes glazed, and arm tucked up against his chest. Rudolph appeared around a corner, his dead sockets wide and black, “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE?” Atlas didn’t stop, opened the backstairs that would lead upstairs, home.

“Yes Rudolph, I think so.” Normally he left Rudolph downstairs, this time he let the skeleton follow, clacking up the stairs after him. He didn’t think he’d mind some company, even if it was from the dead. Rudolph hovered when Atlas carefully bandaged the molted hole in his arm, hovered when Atlas opened the door to his bedroom until the wizard indicated he could come in. There were spell books, and newspapers from all over the world arranged in hap hazard piles, Atlas ignored those, shuffled along his book shelf until he found what he was looking for. He pulled the photo album from the shelf and went to the bed climbing up and opening it, skimming over the images.

Rudolph stayed at the end of the bed, one boney hand gripping the foot board. “Even in the cold light of sanity,” Atlas said at last, his eyes stopping over a photograph of Jasper scowling at the camera on the outskirts of a Tai prison. “I’m not sure that I was wrong.”