Sickness Finished

Sitting in the waiting room of the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas, Alexa leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes closed, and sighed. They had been here for three hours, and heard nothing so far.

She didn't have to open her eyes to hear the sound of her father pacing across the waiting room floor. She squinted her eyes shut harder, as though to block out the sound, which was beginning to make her head ache. He hadn't stopped pacing for the entire time they had been waiting.

"I don't know what's taking them so long!" Alexander Mackenzie said for the hundredth time, or so it seemed to his daughter. Without moving anything besides her mouth, Alexa responded, for the hundredth time.

"The intake nurse said they had to do a lot of stuff to get her settled into her room. I'm sure we'll be allowed to see her soon…" Alexa trailed off, knowing it was pointless to attempt to calm down her father. Feeling more than a little annoyed with him, an ugly thought crossed her mind: Why do you care all of the sudden? You left her almost a year ago. But Alexa quickly shook the thought away, lifting her head from the wall and moving it back and forth. It was unlike her to think anything uncharitable of someone else, but her father, who had indeed divorced her mother almost a year ago, was severely getting on her nerves. And she was exhausted.

She had been awake since yesterday, however many hours ago that was, with the time change of crossing over oceans and countries. From the Hogwarts Express, to the airport in London, the flight to New York, followed immediately by another to Dallas and one to Houston. Then the awful cab ride to their dingy hotel room not nearly close enough to the medical center, where they had stayed long enough to throw down their luggage before heading to the hospital. Her father had barely given Alexa time to refill her pet rat, Rascal's water bottle and food bowl after his long trips in steerage, before he was pulling her out of the door.

Sitting still again, Alexa reflected momentarily on how grateful she was that Rascal had made the journey on three different planes, and seemed no worse for wear as she had inspected him on their cab ride and in their hotel room. She wondered idly how he was doing now. He had been so excited to see her at the airport, having not ever been separated from her for very long. He had squeaked incessantly at her, begging to get out of his cage, until her father had snapped at them both from the front seat of the taxi. Alexa had said nothing, but her mother had quietly laid a frail hand on her leg to reassure her.

But now her mother had disappeared into the bowels of the hospital. Her arrival, and her dreadful cancer, had been expected, but that doesn't mean there had been much time for any nurse to prepare a space for her in the packed medical center. Her mother had explained to Alexa that MD Anderson was a premier cancer center in the United States, and very hard to get admitted into, as everyone wanted to go there. So they were very busy.

Alexa could understand that, but she still wished heartily that someone would come update herself and her father, if only to stop his incessant pacing for a brief while. Just as this thought had crossed her mind another time, someone in scrubs appeared at the waiting room door.

"Hi, I'm Janet! I'm going to be Claire Mackenzie's nurse for today. Can I show you to her room?" Janet was bright and friendly, smiling and petite, blonde and stout. Alexa liked her immediately.

"Well, it's about time!" Her father ejaculated angrily. Janet's smile barely faltered as she apologized, and Alexa respected her even more than she liked her at that moment. Anyone who could deal with her father…

Janet escorted them to an empty hospital room, Alexander following briskly right behind her, and Alexa more wearily behind him. As soon he had registered the room was empty, Alexa's father stopped short, jabbing a finger accusingly at Janet.

"Where the bloody hell is she?" He snapped, and Alexa let out a restrained, "Dad.…" Alexander whirled to face his daughter. "Don't you start!" Then back to Janet. "Well?" He asked impatiently. Alexa understood that he was under a lot of stress, from the trip and the situation, and that he must be more exhausted than she was, but she was still embarrassed of him, scuffing her old trainer into the hospital tile.

Janet just looked at him with another smile. "I'm sorry, they must've taken her down for some tests when I came to find you." She turned a more genuine smile toward Alexa. "If you guys will just settle in here, she should be back in a few hours." Janet quickly turned and left before Alexander could protest.

So Alexa found herself sitting in a different room, one that was still empty but for her pacing father, as she waited. Once again, she leaned her head back against the wall, closed her eyes, and sighed.

Part Three: Rest and Relaxation… Is There Really Such a Thing?

Exhausted, Alexa fell gratefully onto the bed in the hotel room, cradling her pet rat, Rascal, in her hands over her chest. He chattered gratefully, happy to be out of his cage and back in her presence, after being apart for so long. She released him, and he quickly crawled up to her shoulder and sat there, even though she was laying down.

Her father was in the bathroom of the hotel room, cleaning up after their long, long couple of days. Alexa would go next.

After their long traveling to the United States, Houston, Texas to be exact, they had finally gotten her mother settled in the MD Anderson Cancer Center that evening. It was now almost 1 o'clock in the morning, and as Alexa stared at the ceiling of the hotel room while Rascal continued to tell her about his adventures the past few days, chattering constantly, Alexa's mind drifted.

As usual, she found herself back in Hogwarts, among friends, and the boy she loved. Henry Knight had professed his feelings for her just before the end of term, just as Alexa had found out about her mother's condition. It had been a moment full of emotional turmoil, she had liked Henry for a long, long time, despite his apparent lack of interest. His confession, on top of the new knowledge of her mother's sickness, had almost been too much for Alexa to comprehend or bear.

As she thought about Henry now, she did a quick conversion of the times from the US to the UK. It would be 7:00 AM there. Would Henry be awake?

Sitting up, she settled Rascal on her shoulder in his usual spot, before moving to the hotel telephone. She had memorized his number, and quickly dialed it along with the country code. It rang several times, and my answering machine kicked in. Alexa quickly hung up, feeling nervous about it.

After her failed attempts to reach Henry, her thoughts turned to her friends Lucia Fox and Simon Kincaid. She had addresses for them, but no owls to use to send her messages. Finding some hotel stationary, she sat at the desk available and quickly wrote notes to both friends. [Available later in Letters] She would have to ask the hotel to send them by Muggle mail for her when she woke up tomorrow. And in case she couldn't reach him by phone, Alexa wrote one more brief letter for Henry.

Finished, she flopped back onto the bed, supporting Rascal so he wouldn't fall. Her mind was so empty, for all that has happened. She was just so bloody tired. She couldn't wait for her father to finish up in the bathroom. Instead, she quickly changed into her pajamas and slid under the blankets of her bed. Time for some rest.

She was running. Not from something, but toward something. She barely noticed her surroundings; only that it was a long, long white hallway, with florescent lights interspersed above her, seeming to flash as she ran past. She was panting and desperate to get to her destination. Something was terribly wrong, and she knew it… She just didn't know what it was. There was a door at the end of the hall, slightly open. Sprinting as fast as she could, gasping and crying and terror, she stretched out her hand to open the door…

Alexa woke up gasping, covered in sweat. Rascal squeaked slightly, sleepily, from his position on the pillow next to hers. She sat up abruptly, and through the blankets off herself, swinging her legs out of bed. It was 4:00 AM. Her father was asleep in the bed next to hers, snoring softly. Alexa stood there for a moment, feeling the terror course through her. What had that door led to? And what impossibly horrible thing was behind it? Would she ever find out?

Part Four: "You Have to Be Ready for Anything…"

Alexa watched her father leave the hospital room to go grab some lunch in the cafeteria. When he came back, she would go. They took shifts in the daytime, so that her mother was never alone. In the nighttime they went to the hotel, and prayed that nothing happened while they were gone. Not that either of them were really much for praying. It just seemed like the thing to do.

Alexa hardly ever talk to God, or a higher power, or whatever she thought it was. She wasn't sure what was out there, or what she even thought was out there, most of the time. But lately, she had laid in her hotel bed each night, begging someone, anyone, but her mother might get better. Surely someone was listening. Surely someone cared.

But there was no denying that her mother was slowly getting worse, even in just the week they had been here in Houston at the MD Anderson Cancer Center. They had started Claire on a rigorous chemotherapy routine, even though her body was already weak from the cancer itself. The chemotherapy was probably the best shot of destroying the cancer… If it didn't destroy her mother first.

Alexa watched from her chair near the hospital bed as her mother slept fitfully, turning her head and muttering slightly, her face pinched with worry. Alexa reached forward and stroked her mother's hair, hoping to soothe her. But suddenly her mother's eyes were open, staring blindly at her daughter. Unlike her own green eyes, which she had gotten from her father (along with his red hair), her mother's eyes were a clear light blue. Alexa looked into them as they rolled around sightlessly for a moment before latching onto her daughter's face. Alexa had a vague stirring in her memory, and realized her mother's eyes were much like Henry Knight's…

Claire looked at her daughter for a moment, finally awake fully, and reached out a frail hand to grasp Alexa's. Alexa clasped hers gently, as her bones had become frail like the rest of her. Her mother opened her mouth to speak, and a rasping noise came out. Coughing, she cleared her throat, and Alexa dropped her hand, scrambling to get her a glass of water from the rolling table nearby. Claire accepted it gratefully, drinking it slowly, before she handed it back to Alexa to set on the table. Then their eyes met again.

"Alexa," her mother began, her voice soft and rasping, very unlike the voice Alexa was used to from Claire. "Alexa," she repeated slowly, as though feeling the name in her mouth. She smiled slightly, sadly. "I need you to be strong. For yourself, and for your father." Alexa made to say something, but Claire waved a hand, cutting her off. "We don't know what's going to happen. You have to be ready for anything." She stared hard at her daughter now, her smile gone.

Alexa gulped, as her stomach dropped. Then she said softly, "You don't know what's going to happen. You can't talk like this. You may very well get better." She tried to infuse the last sentence with the hope she had trouble feeling, and was unsuccessful. Her words fell flat, and her mother just smiled again.

"I know you're going to be okay. You're tough, and you will get through this," Clare murmured as Alexa dashed at the tears now running down her face. Claire reached up slowly and put her hand gently against her daughter's cheek. "Be ready for anything." Then she dropped her hand, and, exhausted, fell back to sleep.

Alexa sat there silently, tears pouring down her face, not knowing what to think. If there was a God, why was he punishing her mother this way? Why was he punishing their family? What have they all done wrong?

Alexa stood in the familiar hospital room, parting the curtain slightly to look out into the rain that poured down around the hospital. It made everything blurry, difficult to see, and Alexa reflected how this seemed to represent her life lately. Everything was blurry, nothing was clear, and who knew what was going to happen at any given time?

Her father was sitting in the single chair in the room, fast asleep, his head resting on his arms, on the edge of her mother's hospital bed. Her mother was awake and gently stroked his hair. Alexa had seen all of this, and turned away to the window to hide her less than charitable feelings toward her father. How could her mother be so forgiving of a man who had left her for another woman?

With a sigh, she finally turned back to the scene behind her, and watched as her mom gazed fondly at her father as he slept. Finally, she couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Mother, I don't understand… How can you… Even stand to have him around, after what he did?" She leaned against the wall below the window and slid down it to sit on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Because he loved me enough to leave her and come back when I needed him most," Claire said quietly so as not to wake her husband. She lay back tiredly on her pillows, her hand still resting on her ex-husband's head. "I know it's hard for you to understand because we split up –"

"You didn't just split up!" Alexa interrupted vehemently. "You got divorced," Alexa said this last more quietly, reining in her temper. She also didn't want to wake her father, because no matter how she felt about him at the moment, she could not deny he had been devoted and worried, exhausting himself in taking care of her mother in this time of trouble.

Claire sighed tiredly. "I know. But he hasn't even been talking to that woman anymore. It's over between them." She smiled slightly down at the back of her husband's head, buried in his own arms.

Alexa finally blurted out the truth, something she had been holding inside, too worried to upset her mother in this state. But she could hold back no longer. "Mother, he's been talking to someone on the phone several times a day. How do we know it's not her?"

Before her mother could respond, her father raised his head tiredly. Leaning back in his chair, he took his arms off of Claire's bed, taking one of her hands in his own. "You're right Alexa," he said, his voice seeming to ache with exhaustion. He looked back at his daughter, his face tired, but other than that almost expressionless. "I have been getting a lot of calls. But they have been from work. They don't appreciate my being gone for so long, to say the least." He looked back at his ex-wife, and then his daughter again. "I've been meaning to tell you. If I don't come back by the end of the month, and I don't see how that is possible with what's happening, they are going to let me go." He ducked his head into his chest, as though ashamed.

Alexa was astonished. Her father had been working at the same bank for as long as she could remember. Surely they had some loyalty to him. "They're just going to… Fire you? That's not fair!" She found herself springing to her feet, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "That's just wrong!"

From the bed, Claire nodded. "I wondered, I heard you mention Dick's name once, so I knew you were talking to work." Richard "Dick" Macrae was her father's boss for many years. Alexa still felt stupefied.

But even as she was trying to process this information, something worse happened. She saw her mother yank her hand from her father's, where they clenched into fists at her sides, much like Alexa's hands. But her mother's eyes were wide and blank. She could see nothing, and Alexa was suddenly afraid.

Her mother's back arched almost obscenely off the hospital bed, and then she began to throw herself around as though a ragdoll, making horrible noises in her throat as her arms flailed and her body twitched uncontrollably.

Alexa stood there with her hands over her mouth, paralyzed, but Alexander leapt to his feet and bolted toward the hallway, yelling for help as loudly as he could. "I think she's having a seizure!" He yelled.

Suddenly Janet was there with two other nurses, and they quickly turned her mom on her side, causing the horrible choking noises to lessen. But then her mother stopped moving at all, and there was a moment of ominous silence before the heartbeat monitor flatlined, sending out its screeching, long noise of distress. One of the nurses bolted from the room, calling for a crash cart, Alexa thought, but she couldn't be sure. Now doctors and nurses came into the room, shunting her father back against the wall, where he grabbed his daughter and held her tightly. She still had both of her hands over her mouth in shock.

"Paddles!" Somebody yelled, and another person yanked her mother's hospital gown away from her chest. There was a buzzing sound rising in intensity that Alexa couldn't place, as another man grabbed two flat paddles and pressed them deliberately to her mother's chest. Again her mother jerked, a rag doll, something broken, and Alexa burst into tears, though silently. As they coursed down her face, someone yelled "Clear!" and the paddles were replaced on her mother's chest. She jerked again, but the heart monitor continued its insistent screech, the line flat at the bottom of the screen.

Again with the paddles, and again her mother's body flopped grossly… But this time the heart monitor stopped screaming. There was a tiny beep, a pause, another small beep, and then the heart monitor resumed its regular rhythm, as her mother's heartbeat came back.

Standing in her father's arms, as the nurses and doctors spoke to one another seriously before many of them left, Alexa could only feel shock and terror. Though she had been brought back, there was no denying that her mother had just… Died. Shaking horribly, her father's arms clenched around her to lend her support, Alexa could only wonder if next time, Claire's heart wouldn't restart, and Alexa's heart would finally, irreparably break.

As her mother was taken for another barrage of tests, and her father was on the phone speaking vehemently with his boss, the hospital room was terribly empty, and Alexa couldn't stand it. Standing abruptly from her watchful position in the chair in the corner, she strode out of the room.

At the moment, Alexa, who was not ever inclined to anger, was very angry indeed. Angry at her mother's nurses and doctors, who could not seem to make her better no matter what; angry at her father for having abandoned her mother, letting her get this sick without anyone noticing because he had been with another woman; angry with her mother for being sick in the first place; angry with her friends, who did not seem to have time to write to her very often, when she desperately needed them to; and particularly angry at herself because of her complete helplessness. Fists balled up, arms held stiffly at her sides, she marched down the hospital corridor, glaring at anyone who came across her path.

It was only when she reached the waiting room, filled with families and friends of patients, that her anger was completely swept away. By hurt. All these other patients here at MD Anderson had so many people to support them. Just look at this room, overflowing with people, visitors, supporters, family and friends… And then she thought of her mother's lonely hospital room, where only she and her father stayed. Why were they so alone? Didn't her family have anybody?

But she knew the answer to that. Her parents kept to themselves, and what friends they had were only acquaintances, more than anything else. Alexa was the only one to have close friends, though she didn't have many. And there were no other family members for the Mackenzies, or her mother's family. All of her grandparents had passed, and her one uncle, her father's brother, had not been speaking to Alexander for as long as Alexa could remember. Though he lived in Scotland, she had not seen him since she was three years old.

So no, there wasn't really anyone else. Feeling a little sick, Alexa backed out of the waiting room as quickly as she could, her head down, and her face flaming with embarrassment at her previous anger, knowing that it was completely pointless. It helped no one, anger. It generally only made things worse, and her experience. But, mild-mannered as she usually was, she had been driven to it by the complete helplessness and seeming hopelessness of her family's situation.

Her mother was dying. It seemed now only a matter of time. From the chemotherapy, her hair was now gone, having all fallen out on her pillow one morning. There were deep hollows under her eyes, the whites of which were slightly yellowed, as was her skin. Her nails were brittle, her muscles atrophied, her whole body shrinking away between the cancer and the chemotherapy. And there was absolutely nothing Alexa could do about it.

Her mother was hanging onto life, tooth and claw, but in the end it would be a losing battle. Though she hated to even think it, and never admitted it to herself, in the back of Alexa's mind, she knew she was losing her mother. Hence her anger.

The harder her mother hung onto life, the harder her father was found hanging on to her mother. He was going to be destroyed by her death, putting his very soul into her recovery… Even though any such recovery was impossible at this point. Walking back up the hallway with her hands shoved in her pockets and her head down, Alexa let the tears fall. She would be losing a father, in many ways, as well as her mother.

But no, no! She mustn't think like this. Dashing the tears from her eyes with her hands, she walked more quickly and decisively back to her mother's room. She would not give up hope, even when hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her completely. She must hang in there, like everybody else was…

But then she remembered the repeated dream she had been having at the hotel.

She was running frantically, not from something, but toward something. Desperate and panting, her feet pounded the tiles of the whitewashed, empty hallway, it's florescent lights flashing by above her head as she raced by. At the end of the corridor, there was a door, slightly ajar. In all the times she had had the stream so far, she had awoken before she had reached it. But this time, her hand outstretched, her fingers had just brushed the door, pushing it open enough to see…

But she couldn't remember what she had seen, as she had awakened just at that moment. She was afraid she already knew what was behind the door. Her mother, no doubt. And, very possibly, Death.

Alexa opened her eyes slowly, laying on her back in her hotel bed. Her father was already bustling around, getting ready to go to the hospital. He had said nothing to her so far, as was per usual. But this wasn't a usual day. Today was her 13th birthday… Not that she expected anyone to remember. And that thought wasn't bitter. It was just honest. There were more important, more serious things going on.

So Alexa got herself ready that morning as usual, as though nothing was different, perhaps putting a little extra time into petting Rascal, who squeaked at her encouragingly. He seemed to know, but he always seemed to know. Slipping him into his cage, hating having to leave him there during the day, she followed her father as he muttered to himself down to their rental car. They quickly and silently headed to the hospital. Alexa kept her head down, also as usual. She had begun to dread the trips to the hospital, watching her mother deteriorate slowly, but surely.

Her feet dragged as she willed herself down the hospital hallway to her mother's room, her father speeding ahead of her, disappearing into the room long before her. Her dirty trainers scuffed along as, with a sigh, she turned into the hospital room… And froze.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!" Her mother, her father, her mother's nurse Janet, and several other people from the floor were gathered in the room, which was festooned with birthday decorations. A banner hung across the windows, declaiming, "Happy 13th Birthday Alexa!" in her favorite color of royal blue. There was a pile of gaily wrapped presents on the rolling table next to her mother's bed, and everyone was smiling at her.

Alexa blinked, blinked again, and then slowly smiled. She ducked her head slightly as tears filled her eyes. She had assumed everyone had forgotten, but it turned out that no one had. The nurses and hospital staff quickly hugged her and congratulated her before leaving her with her parents who smiled widely at her and began singing happy birthday. Her father came around the bed and hugged her, ruffling her hair. He kissed the crown of her head and whispered, "Happy birthday Lex. Sorry if it seems like I forgot. We wanted it to be a surprise for you." He gave her another squeeze, and then turned her and pushed her toward her mother, whose arms were outstretched.

"Happy birthday, little one," her mother whispered, their cheeks pressed together as Alexa held her gently. "I know it's not the same –"

"Mom, it's great. Truly," Alexa interrupted quickly. Because it was.

"Come on in open your presents! Your friends sent some by owl to the hotel over the past few days; I hid them from you," her father said proudly. Alexa couldn't help but laugh. She walked over to the table, and saw gifts from her parents, Janet, her mother's team of doctors, Henry, Lucia, and Simon. She picked up Henry's box, pocketing the letter that was enclosed with it to read privately. In the box were two beautiful necklaces, one a wolf with a moon reminding her of her werewolf boyfriend, the second a beautiful sun, a crystal in the center surrounded by golden flames. Then there was a crochet badger reminding her of her house emblem, making her smile. She hugged it to her chest. Finally was a rainbow swing, obviously intended for Rascal. Henry was so thoughtful that way!

Lucia had sent her a beautiful silver horse necklace, along with a Howler! Luckily everyone besides her parents were out of the room; she quickly ripped it open as it began to vibrate, and it burst into song. Lucia's beautiful voice was trying to sing happy birthday with interruptions from someone familiar that Alexa couldn't place. The whole thing made her laugh out loud, which she had not done in a long time. It was the perfect gift.

From Simon was a beautiful hand-drawn picture of Rascal, which she held lovingly for a moment. It was perfectly detailed. Rascal was sitting up and looking alertly out of the picture. She had known from Simon's last letter that he was going to take up drawing; she had not known he would be so good at it so soon!

From her parents, she received a new set of trainers, royal blue! She immediately put them on. They were Chuck's, and she loved them instantly. She also received a small carved wooden horse that she knew her father had made himself, and a crocheted butterfly made by her mother. Trying not to tear up over the gifts, she again hugged her parents.

From Janet and the team of doctors was a jumper with the emblem "We Can Do It Together" – MD Anderson. Somehow they had also made it or found it in royal blue, and she quickly slipped it on over her T-shirt, though it made her a little bit sad. She promised herself to wear it every day she could.

She looked all around her again at the decorations as her father cut her a slice of cake, and felt warmed by the love of everyone she knew. It was a bright spot amidst the darkness and she wasn't likely to forget it anytime soon.

Part Eight: "Time of Death…"

Alexa's birthday, now several weeks past, had been the highlight of her stay in Houston. A highlight, because everything had gone downhill from there. It was now August. On August 1, her father had gotten the call, the dreaded call, from his job in Inverness, Scotland, that they would be forced to let him go from his extended absence. Losing his wife slowly, inch by inch, and having lost his job, Alexander felt hopeless. Listless. He moved like a ghost between hotel and hospital, barely noticing his daughter. Putting all of his focus into his dying wife. Alexa knew that he would die with her, even as he would not. She would lose both of her parents with the loss of one.

For there was no denying now that her mother was going to die. They still treated her, but the cancer was winning. Her skin was a yellow color, and clung to her skeleton so that it seemed like she hardly had any skin at all. It was papery thin, her hair was completely gone, her eyes sunken deep in her head, primarily red and yellow in color. It was so difficult now to look at them and see if any of the clear blue that was their original color. Not that Alexa could bring herself to look into her mother's eyes much at all lately. They were dead eyes. Gone.

So every day they went to the hospital, to hear her mother's rasping, choking voice. A voice that slowly subsided into silence. She hardly spoke at all now. She mostly just stroked Alexander's hair as he sobbed silently into the bedclothes beside her. Every day. And every day Alexa alternately stood and stared out the window into the smoggy Houston skyline or stood at the foot of her mother's bed, silently lending support, silently tearing her heart out.

And every night they went to the hotel. And Alexa would crawl up with Rascal, her boon companion in these tough times. And she would not cry. But she would stare, dried eyed out of the window into the night, dreading falling asleep, dreading the dream that awaited her. Every night.

She ran down the hall, once again. Not running from something, but toward something. The hall was completely whitewashed, the florescent lights flashed above her head as they passed quickly by, the only sound that of her racing footsteps and her racing heartbeat. The door at the end of the hall of a slightly ajar. She knew now what was there. Her mother, and Time, and Death. If she could just get there, and stop Time, stop Death, one or the other, perhaps both. Certainly that would be enough to save her mother. She could never get there! Always she woke just as her fingers brushed the door!

But! Tonight was different. Her fingers brushed the door, and it swung open at her touch. Bursting through the door, she came to a sudden halt. She was confronted by what had to be a hospital bed, shrouded by a privacy screen. But she could see the two figures standing at the end of it. One, cloaked entirely in white. Time. It was looking down, she could not see its face. The other, cloaked entirely in black. Death. It was looking at the bed, and she could not see its face. They did not turn as she entered the room and the door closed behind her.

"You are too late," a deep voice intoned. "You have not come in Time."

"Death comes for us all," another voice rasped slowly. "You cannot stop it."

With the cry, Alexa ripped back the privacy screen knowing her mother should be laying on the bed safely. But the bed was empty. Horrified, she looked into the faces of the figures standing at the end of the bed. Time looked at her, a pure white face, featureless, Timeless, no face at all. Death looked at her. A skull. Fleshless, dark, no face at all.

"She is with us now," the voices said together, though the faces moved not at all. Then they turned away, and became one with the shadows of the room, disappearing forever.

Falling to her knees, Alexa began to scream in despair. She clawed at her throat, where the three necklaces she wore seemed to close around her, choking her. Tears finally streamed down her face, blinding her as she screamed and screamed and screamed…

And screamed and screamed. Her father grabbed her arms, yelling, shaking her, desperate to wake her up. Suddenly she stopped screaming, realizing her dream had ended and she was awake. She stared at her father in horror. "Daddy," and some part of her realized it had been many years since she had called him that, "daddy, we have to get to the hospital right now!" Alexander saw the look in her eyes and after a moment's hesitation dashed away to get dressed. Alexa quickly captured Rascal who was hiding under the pillow, terrified, and put him in his cage before getting herself dressed.

They tore their way into the hospital, up to Claire's floor. They froze coming out of the elevator, seeing a flurry of activity outside of her doorway. Then they rushed into the activity themselves. Alexander had his daughter's hand and bulled his way through the crowd, using his broad shoulders to push his way into the room. And then, as the two figures stood at the end of the bed, reminiscent of two other figures who had stood there in Alexa's dream, Time did stop. The room seemed to empty as Alexander and Alexa stared down at Claire, who stared back at them, but without seeing. Alexander's hand almost crushed his daughter's, until suddenly he was gripping the railing at the foot of the bed, sobs racking his huge frame. But Alexa stood quietly frozen, feeling very small, hearing only the rasping voice that said, "Time of death, 3:17 AM."

Mentioning@ Lucia Fox,@ Henry Knight, and@ Simon Kincaid

It was Scotland, so of course, it was raining. Not a heavy rain, just a drizzle, but enough to bring out umbrellas and dampen everything, including spirits. The very tiny perception of motorcycle cop and hearse, followed by Alexander's car with his daughter Alexa sitting in the passenger seat, proceeded through Inverness toward the dilapidated cemetery towards its edge. It was all Alexander could afford anymore.

There had been no grand funeral in a church; it had been expensive enough to ship her mother's body in its cheap coffin from America to Scotland. So there would be a short graveside service provided by a Father who was a friend of Alexander's, who would do it for free despite Alexander's protestations, before her mother was finally laid to rest, eight days after her death.

It had just taken forever to arrange things stateside, and then there was the flight here. And then arranging things here, and now finally the burial. Even though it had been eight days, Alexa was still in shock. As Alexander's tiny car proceeded behind the hearse, Alexa's stared out of the passenger window numbly, he mack, or raincoat, wrapped tightly around her, pulled together by freezing white hands that couldn't seem to feel anything. Rascal was not with her today. She and her father had had a row about it at the apartment. He deemed it highly inappropriate for the pet rat to come to the burial, where Alexa had thought of him as her only solace. So now she sat in solitude and silence without a friend, her father's large frame bent over the steering wheel in the tiny car, neither of them speaking to the other, neither of them seeming to notice the other was even in the car. Each was too wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Alexa once again ran through the litany of things she listed in her head as "never." Never again what her mother smile at her. Never again would she hug her hello or goodbye. Never again would she kiss her cheek, greet her, give her words of comfort, encouragement. Never would she know exactly what to say in Alexa's times of trouble. She would never be proud of, excited for, or pleased with her daughter ever again. The list went on and on. And on some more.

Alexa was fully aware of the fact that she was brooding, but she couldn't seem to drag herself out of it. She had long ago stopped writing to her friends from Hogwarts, even before her birthday, even before hope had died, long before her mother had died. She missed them terribly, but couldn't seem to pick up a quill to scratch out a sentence to any of them. It made her feel sick to try. It made her feel sick to not.

These days, she felt sick doing anything. Mostly she lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling, absently petting Rascal as he curled up on her chest, remaining quiet as she was quiet. But just his presence was a balm. Just not enough of one, unfortunately.

She tried sometimes to write in the journal that she had purchased for herself added to her shop in Houston. Taped into the front cover was a sketched picture of Rascal drawn by Simon Kincaid. When she sat at the desk and tried to write, Rascal usually was perched on his rainbow swing, a gift from Henry Knight. When she couldn't think of anything to write she fiddled with her two bracelets: a golden bracelet that said Three Amigas on it. One of those friends was gone, but Lucia Fox was still around. The other bracelet was a Celtic leather braided one, that had a matching sibling on Henry Knight's wrist. The three necklaces she wore were from those two friends (well, really one best friend, and one boyfriend, to be more accurate). But even as she was surrounded by these things from her friends, reminders of them that she kept close to her daily, she tried not to think about the people they represented.

she was brought back to reality suddenly when the car swerved abruptly on the wet pavement. with a screech. She grabbed at the window and the windshield as her father cursed vehemently, regaining control of the small vehicle. Then silence fell again. Alexa glanced sideways at her father, wondering what had happened, but he just glared ahead, saying nothing. So she went back to her contemplation of the wet, gray, dreary world outside. And so was she who saw the cemetery first.

It's iron fences were rusted away entirely in places, sagging dismally and others. Gravestones had sunk in sideways into the ground, and the whole place was terribly overgrown, grass and trees covering many of the stones completely. She couldn't help but grimace as she looked away. Her father caught her expression, and muttered almost apologetically, "…All we could afford…"Alexa was quiet for a moment, ashamed. "It looks great dad. She'll be happy here with all the trees." Alexa murmured, taking a new look at the cemetery. Her mother had loved trees.

It was a grueling burial. The hole had already been dug, but it was partially filled with water now as the drizzle had turned to a hard sideways rain. The Father, the cemetery manager, Alexander and Alexa had slipped and slid their way down the hill to where the hole was. The three men carrying the coffin had almost dropped it twice. As everyone was soaking, the Father hurried through his speech, and the winch that was meant to lower the coffin into the ground got stuck, requiring one. of the men to return to a shack on the other side. of the cemetery to search for a replacement part. The Father escaped and made his goodbyes during this time, and the men from the cemetery as well as Alexa and Alexander stood wet and miserable in the wind and the rain as they waited. Finally, the coffin was in the ground. Alexander threw a wet handful of mud onto the coffin which splattered sickeningly, followed by one thrown by his daughter. Then they quickly left, leaving the grave behind them, their tears mixing with the rain.

"Rest in peace, mother," Alexa whispered brokenly as they left the cemetery.

Part Ten: The End

Alexa shut the lid on her Hogwarts trunk with a minor slam, forcing everything down inside of it. Three years worth of junk lay at the bottom, and crammed on top of it were some of her older things, and all of her newer things, purchased yesterday at Diagon Alley in London. With a sigh, Alexa seated herself on top of her trunk, and took one last look around her room to see if she had missed anything in her frenzied packing, done last minute – of course – this morning before she left for London with her father.

The room in the Inverness flat had been simply furnished and practically undecorated. She and her father, after her mother's funeral last month, had been forced to move into a cheaper flat, one that her father could more easily afford with the last of his money as he scrambled around to find a job. Right now he was working as a janitor at a local high school at nights. Alexa was thankful that it was at nights. Then no one could be haunted by his vacant expression, his empty eyes, his zombie walk. She was sure high school students would be disturbed by him otherwise. He seemed not to have come back from America, not to have come back from Houston, not to have come back from the hospital room where her mother had died. Part of him had died there too. And so, in effect, Alexa had lost two parents that night…

But she tried not to dwell on it too frequently. If anything, and she knew this was an awful choice, but she couldn't seem to help it, she avoided her father. Just as much as he avoided her. That also helped, she thought, him working nights. It forced him to sleep during the day, so Alexa saw him in the mornings and the evenings before and after work, and that was about it. He didn't know that she peeked in on him while he slept, just to make sure he was still there, just to reassure herself that he was still breathing. Because sometimes she wondered…

And today was the big day. Back to school. She knew she should be excited, and part of her was. Really, a big part of her was, because it meant escaping this hell that her life seemed to have become. But she dreaded having to tell her friends about her mother. She had stopped writing to them long before her mother had passed, and had told no one except Henry yesterday when she met him shopping. He had been great, supportive and loving as usual. But it had still been hard to tell him, and she couldn't imagine telling Lucia and Simon. She did not look forward to that…

But she did look forward to seeing them, nonetheless. Desperately. She looked forward to even just seeing the outline of Hogwarts on the horizon tonight through the windows of the train in the twilight. Knowing then that she would be coming home, to her real home.

But as much as she was excited about leaving, part of her dreaded it as well. What would her dad do without her? How would he make it, though he was barely making it now? These were questions she didn't want to ask herself, especially because she had no good answers. Only bad ones…

And she tried and tried to stay away from those answers, because they terrified her. And made her angry, and sick to her stomach. Best not to think about those thoughts, if she could help it. But sometimes, they just snuck up on her no matter what she did to try to avoid them. Ugly thoughts, scary thoughts. Thoughts of a dark future, without any parents.

She slammed her hands down angrily on either side of her legs where she sat up on the trunk. No! Shaking her head rapidly, her loose red hair flying about her face, she calmed herself and pushed her hair away from where it had tangled in front of her. she wouldn't go there. Not today. Today was a good day, today she was going back to school, to see her friends, back home as it were. Which reminded her, she was running late.

Quickly scooping up her pet rat, Rascal from where he watched her on the empty desk, she talked him into her sweater, and grabbed her trunk, dragging it out of her room and into the kitchen of the flat. "Dad!" she bellowed. "It's time to go!" She had seen him getting ready after she had woken him this morning, so she knew he was around somewhere. He couldn't be far in this tiny place.

And there he was, with his hair unwashed, not brushed, his eyes a little vacant and confused. His shirt was a little dirty. Alexa quickly handed him his jacket, accustomed to his appearance. "Let's go," she said kindly. Taking the trunk in one hand, and his and the other, she carefully maneuvered them down the narrow hallway to the door of the flat. Time for her third year… Please let it be better than my last, she prayed to no one in particular.