Sunday morning dawned particularly bright that day. And a sliver of its golden sunlight streamed through the crack between the two otherwise tightly drawn curtains, casting its ray right over the place where Wendell lay peacefully slumbering. That pesky light drew him from his happy slumber. His eyes blinked open, and he looked around blearily not instant recognizing his surroundings through his sleep-glazed eyes. A few more seconds and the world slowly came into focus, though that light still somewhat irritated him. But as the sleep fog cleared his brain, he became aware that he wasn’t in his own apartment. It wasn’t near as nice as this room, though he still felt it was a bit of an upgrade from his original one. No this level of understated finery belonged to Sofia’s bedroom. Of course the much more telling sign was said woman lying next to him.

They had been seriously seeing each other for several weeks, and he spent more time at her townhouse than he had in his own apartment over the weekends. They never went to his place; it wasn’t nearly as nice as hers. But more importantly (at least from his standpoint) was that there was absolutely nothing that could incriminate him here and he couldn’t be positively sure about that in his own home. It would have to happen eventually, otherwise she would start to get suspicious, but for now things were good. He looked over at her; her face was buried in her pillow still fast asleep. It was one of the few times that he ever saw her unguarded. And for a few minutes he watched her sleep, enjoying the experience.

But Wendell, being Wendell he quickly grew tired of this particular activity and decided that it might be nice to get some breakfast. Or rather his stomach decided for him. He gently shook her shoulder, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Sofiiiiiiia, it’s time to get up!”

She groaned unhappily at this disruption to her sleep and swatted his hand away before settling back into sleep. He was undeterred.

“Come on, rise and shine! It’s a nice day! I’ll take you out to get some breakfast and then we can do whatever you want, okay?” He said amused at her stubborn refusal to wake up.

But once more she ignored him, just snuggled down under the blankets some more. He pulled it back and leaned down to kiss her cheek, down her neck, across her shoulder. Every now and then pausing to entreat her out of her dreams. It worked much more successfully than his previous attempts did, though still didn’t accomplish his aims. She shrugged him off once more, and turned over, as if to escape his grasp, muttering in a sleepy voice.

“Nah yet, five more minutes Wendell.”

He jerked violently away from her: his jaw dropping slightly open, his eyes flashing with confusion and hurt, until it all finally gave way to one very distinct emotion. Anger.

“WHAT?!”

The ground was moist beneath her feet and the seductive sent of jasmine wafted through the air as she got closer to her prey, an elderly seemingly defenseless man of fifty and consequently the currently holder of the top most spot on wizarding London’s most wanted criminal list. She was so close now, she could almost make out the writing on his copy of the prophet. Eternal glory awaited her if she nabbed him.

A bee that had decided to buzz around her face broke her concentration. Wait a message from the ministry? Abort mission? She groaned unhappily, giving the message a few swats for good measure, not at all pleased with its news. She was quite happy where she was, on the cusp of glory, thank you very much. She stayed where she was. The ministry would thank her in the end. Her eyes focused back on the criminal… who now bore an uncanny resemblance to Wendell. Wait it was Wendell!

She sighed happily, frolicking happily to her lost criminal love. He gave her one of his oh so classic grins before enveloping her in a welcoming hug. His lips tracing her now exposed neck. “I can’t stay long love.”

Realization dawned. He was dead. “Don’t leave me again. You can’t!” She murmured into his chest, arms wrapping around his body in a vain attempt to keep him close.

In response he slowly began to disintegrate. “Not yet, five more minutes Wendell.” She cried as a violent earthquake shook the garden.

”WHAT?!”

Sofia jolted up, her sleep-clouded mind summoning her wand, ready to face the potential – Dillan? She gave him a befuddled look, setting her wand back down on the bedside, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“Dillan? What’s the matter? Are we under attack?” It wasn’t everyday someone screamed at her to get up, something terrible must have happened. Perhaps death eaters were at the front door?

”…five more minutes Wendell.”

Wendell? Wendell?

Did she know? If she did, why hadn’t she said anything about it? No, he had covered his tracks too well, she couldn’t possibly know. It was—impossible. But then that meant that the only option left was that she was thinking about him. And not him, laying there in bed next to her but him his deceased former incarnation. His other self, the real him. And if she was thinking about him then that meant that she wasn’t thinking about current him. She was using him as a sort of replacement for the other him. Which meant that she wanted the other him and not him at all! Or was it the other way around??

The only clear thing about the whole muddled scenario was that Sofia Robards was confusing as hell! And it was impossible to make her happy. Wendell wasn’t good enough for her. Dillan wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good enough for her. That was what it came down to wasn’t it?

But she wanted Wendell anyways? But she couldn’t have him. She couldn’t. Because Wendell was dead, and he couldn’t just up and come back to life. Not even considering the slightly unusual circumstances surrounding his death. Shocked, confused and frustrated he took it all out in anger, his usual way of dealing with things.

”Dillan? What’s the matter? Are we under attack?”

“Of course we’re not under a bloody attack!” He snapped throwing away the covers disgustedly. “But I’m glad to see you’ve remembered who your sleeping with.”

He searched around the room to locate his clothes tossed haphazardly over the chair in front of her vanity. With nothing but an unpleasant scowl in her direction, he got out of bed and went to throw them on. Of course his attention was so distracted by the argument he was brewing that he barely managed to do his shirt buttons up properly. In fact he had to undo them and restart it twice, which made him look foolish (and therefore even more irritated).

“Of course we’re not under a bloody attack!”

They weren't under attack then why the hell was he yelling at her? He had no right to wake her and screech at her till after she had her morning cup of tea. She wrapped the sheet around her self. It was not allowed. Sofia's hands clenched, little half moon indents appearing moments later in her palms as confusion gave way to a safer emotion anger.

“But I’m glad to see you’ve remembered who your sleeping with.” He continued.

"WHAT?" She burst out not even thinking the reaction through, her wand already nestled safely back in her hand. What on earth was he implying? She thought they had come to terms with one another, where becoming used to one another and dare she say they rather liked each other. Not love that was too soon. But lust and attraction were defiantly major components of their relationship. Her body went numb as her mind replayed his last words while Dillan fumbled with his buttons.

remembered who your sleeping with

It still don't make sense. She was exclusively seeing him and had never said otherwise...the dream. Wendell. Her unfortunate habit of saying anything to stay sleeping. She began to giggle, which blossomed forth into a full set of hysterics. This was ridiculous. Absolutely positively ridiculous. He should be able to place the name - as a dead man. Merlin help her was she going to have to convince him she wasn't having an affair with a dead man? Arty was going to love this latest development. She could picture it now. Hiya Arty, my boyfriend just broke up with me cause I mumbled Wendell's name in my sleep. Apparently he's the jealous over reacting type and I'm screwed for all eternity in the dating game. Want to get lunch?

She needed to stop laughing though truth be told it had turned more into a set of hysterics. She needed to think of sobering things like her father, her mother...the hysterics died down, replaced with a lack of any emotion. Sofia had begun to shutting down process. If Dillan was going to end it she was retreating to a far happier place - and breaking things off with him first. "Dillan you can't think that I am anything less than committed to you. If you walk out of that door without at least talking to me, please just don't come back."

She started laughing at him. Not a sarcastic laugh, not even just a brief chuckle but collapsed in a full-blown case of hysteria. He had never seen her laugh like that. It was a bit cruel of her. Of course she couldn't know exactly why he was so upset. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so upset, but he felt that it was justified. Even under slightly more usual circumstances, a certain amount of anger would be justified. Finally she gave off her hysterics and looked at him a lot more sober, and also a lot more withdrawn than he'd seen her in a while.

"Dillan you can't think that I am anything less than committed to you. If you walk out of that door without at least talking to me, please just don't come back."

And he suddenly felt even worse than before. Utterly pathetic, and completely unlike himself. He stilled staring at her. What did he care if he ever saw her again? He didn't need her! He didn't need anyone, as he had very well proven when he left home. Long-term relationships of any sort were an unnecessary inconvenience. Then they expected things of you, and made a fuss when you didn’t live up to them. Sofia had been fun; a good sort of temporary amusement and now it was over, just as it should be. Any longer and it could only get messy, and he didn’t go for that sort of thing.

So he should just grab his coat and tie and leave. That's all there was to it, there were plenty of other girls that would trip over themselves to have him. Even more so now that he looked like some sort of muggle comic book superhero. There was nothing of any importance keeping him here. Just a stupid, brunette auror who didn't matter all that much anyway. She wasn't even that pretty! Well...okay she was pretty hot. But that was the extent of her charms! And there were a ton of hot girls. He’d go pick up Jasper and they’d hit the town. Jasper always knew the best places to pick up models. Models were hot, maybe hotter than Sofia. Not as smart obviously, but that was completely irrelevant. His hand twitched towards the coat thrown haphazardly across the chair. This was it! He was leaving for good!

"I thought he was just an informant."

‘You. Are. Pathetic. Go home to your mummy and cry a little why don't you!’ He taunted himself.

“Maybe I learned things a bit wonky, training in America. But I’m pretty sure that moaning an informant’s name in your sleep is a bit unusual.” He sounded petulant, and he knew it. But for some reason his mouth was moving independently of his brain and arms and legs were refusing to move at all.

Her face felt frozen as she watched him debate whether she was worth it. The jesture might have been subtle but he had done it. She had seen his hand twitch. It might have been for his wand but in Sofia’s eyes it was one of abandonment, she had seen it so many times before. Through Edward and the weeping messes he turned each and every one of the women he didn’t care a wilt for, through Edward, though each and every one of those so called pureblood gentlemen that professed love or at least attraction and then left their so called precious ones at the drop of the hat. Apparently Dillan was one of…

The twitching stopped momentarily, as a piercing stare took its place.

"I thought he was just an informant."

Oh dear not that again. Just an informant. Merlin the lies she had been telling herself. If she had gotten past that blinder she might not have been so taken aback at the bloody funeral, she would have been better compartmentalized, she would have been master of her own carefully packaged emotions. No tears would have been shed and no heart break would have occurred. She would have recognized the root of the disease and ripped it out. She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. She could only parrot back what he said.

“He was just an informant.” She repeated weakly.

“Maybe I learned things a bit wonky, training in America. But I’m pretty sure that moaning an informant’s name in your sleep is a bit unusual.”

If only he would just stop talking. If only she hadn’t said a word at all. If only, if only, if only.

“He was just an informant.” She repeated again, this time in a whisper.

Thinking was not going to explain things to Dillan. Nor was cutting perfect half moons into her palms - that was only going to stain the sheets. Still Sofia’s face did not unfreeze, nor her hands unclench, as her mind did the only thing it knew how to do with her emotions in such situations, shut the pesky things down completely. A double edged sword of sorts, she wouldn’t embarrass herself with tears when he left, beg him to stay, but she also wouldn’t be able to explain herself properly. It had happened so many times before, with family, friends, all those that had mattered at some point. The hurt wouldn’t come till later.

Only this time she didn’t want it to come at all. This could work. She could maybe…

“No, he wasn’t.” That hadn’t been what she meant to say, if she could move her face she would have had the decency to look horrified.

Dillan gave her a look. One that did not promise things would end well. Her nails bit into her palms harder.

“He wasn’t just an informant Dillan, he was a person. A person that had a family, a life, maybe even some poor abused waif of a wife, either way I cared about what happened to him, silly as that may seem.” This should have been delivered in a jumble of rushed sincere words, rather than a stiff monotone, directed at the foot of the bed rather than the livid man. She attempted to make eye contact but instead found the air above Dillan’s head to be much more inviting. “Besides it’s my fault he died, I did something I ought not to have and now that choice has been haunting me. I keep thinking that if I had done things differently things would have, could have ended better for him.”

She shrugged. “Its no matter. Judge me as you will."

"He was just an informant.”

That's right! Just an informant, a nobody! Good. It's settled then. Just...an informant. For some reason the statement didn’t make him feel better

“No, he wasn’t."

It was like she hit him over the head with a ton of bricks. He stared at her disbelieving, waiting for her to go on, but all the same rather wishing she wouldn’t. His hand which had utterly failed at finding his coat came instantly to the side of his temple to vainly try and massage away the stress headache that was forming.

“He wasn’t just an informant Dillan, he was a person. A person that had a family, a life, maybe even some poor abused waif of a wife, either way I cared about what happened to him, silly as that may seem.”

That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be because she had just been using him for the tips he gave her, just the way he had used her to keep the aurors off his back. It was a symbiotic user relationship, in which caring was very strictly forbidden. Flirting was acceptable, but actual caring was most definitely not allowed on either side. There was a line, a big fat white chalk line that acted as impenetrable as a brick wall. Caring was bad.

“Besides it’s my fault he died, I did something I ought not to have and now that choice has been haunting me. I keep thinking that if I had done things differently things would have, could have ended better for him.”

No.

No. No. No.

She was not allowed to feel guilty for his "death." Because then he'd feel guilty for making her feel guilty. It would be an endless ring of guilt that could only ever end by him exposing the truth. Then she wouldn't feel guilty...she'd just hate him for all eternity. He tried to remember when and why he had decided not to tell her that he was still alive. It had been during one of those long hours he spent cooped up inside of that uncomfortable, dingy little cell. It had been after Ballantine had overheard his discussion with her and Will, but before she had taken him to the interrogation room.

Ah, yes. Ballantine. That one-woman force of nature who saw everything entirely in black and white. He knew if he mysteriously disappeared from the ministry in the middle of the night suspicion would fall on Will and Sofia. So he couldn't tell them where he was going, in case they were interrogated about his whereabouts. Not that either of them would have willingly ratted him out, but he didn't put it past Ballantine to force Veritaserum into the mixture. It protected him, and them in a way.

But apparently it had, produced some cruel side affects that he hadn't anticipated. Sure he had assumed they'd be grieved over his "death," but when the day came that he could reappear as himself, everything would be fine again. Except that, it wouldn't be fine. He was beginning to see that, and it wasn’t a realization that he liked. He was a bit of an idiot.

“It’s no matter. Judge me as you will."

"I- he's...not you. No." He stumbled over his words, unable to actually say anything that he really wanted to say. But he felt that silence after such a revealing speech to be intolerable.

“I can’t. Sofia, I really can’t. You’re wrong.”

About everything. He didn’t have a family to speak of, and most certainly didn’t have some abused wife. He made a miserable wreck of his life, all on his own without help from anybody else. None of it was her fault, he had never done a thing to warrant anything other than her scorn. And she was most definitely not responsible for his death. At all.

He could tell she was confused by his inability to form coherent sentences.

“Look, let’s just forget it alright? I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

If I hadn’t come up with that stupid plan, none of this would have happened. He sunk onto the chair in front of her vanity.

“Just don’t blame yourself for him. Please, just don’t. I’ll help you find him, if that’s what you really want. But he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

Oh Merlin!! What was he thinking?

"I- he's...not you. No."

He was doing it. There was the start of a completely expected response. Though as far as breakup speeches were going this one was off to an epically bad start. He couldn’t even get his its not you its me speech done properly, it was instead coming out in a series of pronouns. Yet somehow this didn’t make his rejection any less painful, nor did it keep her chest from tightening up. Something was wrong with her. She usually was able to handle people leaving her with grace and poise and, most importantly, without an iota of feeling.

“I can’t. Sofia, I really can’t. You’re wrong.”

She was all wrong for him. To forward, to independent, to herself to fit into his typecast of the pureblood miss probably. Dam him. Making her feel something for him, making her think he was someone different. No he was someone worse, breaking up with her when all she had was her dignity and a sheet.

“Look, let’s just forget it alright? I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

Quick and clean break, that was what he wanted. He probably was regretting that very party she invited him over for tea and now was just trying to back away from her as quick as possible. It was below her dignity to beg, to ask for reasons more than what he was giving. If Dillan wanted her out of her life she was not going to make a scene. It had been fun while it lasted, been almost dreamlike, but like all good things it had to end. Perhaps it was best he was backing away before she got to attached, to close.

“Just don’t blame yourself for him. Please, just don’t. I’ll help you find him, if that’s what you really want. But he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

…

What? Sofia blinked back at him, her confusion written on her face as he sat down and made himself comfortable. If this had been a normal argument or situation she would have relaxed her guard around the man long enough to get dressed.

“Did I hear you right?” She asked, head tilted to one side. She was having some crazy dreams lately. Dillan gave her a look that suggested she was a bit slow on the uptake and gave a nod in answer.

“Right so you aren’t leaving and we aren’t just going to forget the past couple months?” Another looked, this one of absolute confusion came from the man.

“And we are still seeing each other?” She continued now, her tone expressing her disbelief. What on earth was going on? Where had the breakup scene gone? “ I don’t understand what’s just happened and how we got here.” She remarked, removing herself from the bed - at what would have been a perfect moment for her to prech on Dillan's lap, kiss, and make out up.

However this was not to be, a few swift wand movements later her black armor was in place, the bed made, and she was perched on the farthest corner from Dillan, watching and waiting for his next move warily.

“Right so you aren’t leaving and we aren’t just going to forget the past couple months? And we are still seeing each other?"

“Of course not, where would you get that idea?” He replied looking thoroughly confused. Honestly, where did she come up with these things? That wasn't what he had been saying at all. Of course, knowing Sofia this was probably just her way of avoiding the conflict all together. He ought to have taken a leaf out of her book and just been done with it. With a swift movement she was up out of bed, dressed, and had the bed made, then sat there staring at him intently. It certainly didn't fill him with any sort of confidence on the matter.

"I meant to forget the argument, unless you'd rather..." He cocked his head to the side, trying to decide what exactly she was thinking. He had never learned to be a legilmen, and therefore he met with complete failure on that front. She just had that perpetually wary look on her face again, the one she wore ninety percent of the time, as though at any second someone was going to try and curse her. Which he supposed as an auror, was a pretty legitimate fear. Nevertheless, it was a bit disheartening to see her using it on him, now.

"I just--overreacted."

Well, he hadn't really. He still thought that it was a perfectly valid reaction and she wasn't taking his feelings seriously. Well...maybe "feelings" wasn't the proper term. Because as he had been steadily repeating in his head for the last few minutes there were no "feelings" unless lust counted as one. She sat there still as stone, and he realized that he was going to have to make the first move on this particular occasion. She'd either accept his offer, or kick his arse. But it wasn't as though it would be the first time. He swiftly stood up and strode across the room, setting himself down next to her, and grasping one of her hands.

"I'm sorry."

And he really was, though not for the same reasons that she imagined. But at this point, he found it impossible to tell her the truth, so he would live in his lie until he could find a graceful exit. Though it was becoming perfectly clear that "graceful" was going to appear a bit more like a grusome battlefield than anything else.

"Look, did you want to go get some waffles or something?"

I'm sorry That phrase was magic to Sofia's sorely addled brain. She still did not really know what had just happened, still wasn't quite sure what was about to happen but he wasn't leaving her. They were still together in their relationship of - of what? Now was not the time to analyze what they had. They had a - a relationship based off of.. analysis was out for the time being. All she cared about was he wasn't leaving her and he was trying to come back.

The tightness in Sofia's chest loosened, as she felt her face unconsciously soften in response. Not that she would have been broken if he had left her. She did not need a man to make her, especially one that she was just rebounding with. Wasn't in love with. Lust! That was their relationship. Lust and work. They were drawn by those two factors alone. It was a relationship of practicality -No that wasn't right. It didn't feel like her last one which had most definitely been one of practicality. They just were bodies drawn to one another, that cared about one another, wanted the other to be happy.

"Look, did you want to go get some waffles or something?"

No. No she did not want some waffles. She had this inexplicable desire to cry to be quite frank. He had disarmed her with sorry and was now attacking her with kindness. Her eyes were watering and she was now feeling rather embarrassed for having unconsciously caused the conversation to begin in the first place.

Instead of voicing all this however she blinked at him, more as a way to regroup after the attack than anything else, and offered a tentative smile. "I'll pass on the waffles Dillan. I don't feel very much like eating. But you go along and get some. I'll be here - I've got some files to sort though before I ..." voluntarily "...have to go see my mother." Unsure of what to do she stood up and alternatively gazed at her feet and him awkwardly.

If he hadn’t been able to tell that she was unhappy with him before, he was now. She barely tolerated her mother at the best of times, and now she was saying that she’d rather spend time with the domineering old bag than with him? That was a pretty steep drop in esteem even by her standards. Trying not to look too hurt by this betrayal, he nodded ‘understandingly’ and slowly stood up. If space were what she wanted, he’d give it to her. It was strange that he was having a fair bit of difficulty trying to convince himself to leave when only a few minutes earlier he would have been willing to rip the door clean off its hinges in order to get out.

“Alright then, I wouldn’t want to hold you up.” He stooped to give her a brief peck on the cheek. And even then he felt as though he were pushing his luck. He walked over and picked up his coat, which came easily to him now, and slipped it on. He glanced in the mirror above her vanity and made certain to check the look of disappointment that had unwittingly stolen across his features. If she didn’t want him here, he wasn’t going to intrude.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow morning then?” It sounded awkward and stupid sounding, all things considered. He would see her of course, they worked in the same office, but whether or not she would speak to him was a different matter entirely. Her response was still rather detached sounding, and he wondered in spite of his denial that he intended for them to break up, if some irrevocable cracks had split them anyway. He shook his head trying to clear the thoughts, and generally failing pretty miserably. Then with a brief goodbye, and one last unhappy glance, he left closing the door behind him with an all too definitive sounding click.

As he exited her townhouse he imagined her going through her apartment and thoroughly scourging it of all traces of his presence. Wiping him out of her life with that same determinedly detached look on her face. Coldly excluding him from her thoughts, and barely acknowledging his presence. Tomorrow would prove to be terribly awkward at best and at worst an utter disaster.