trans_9 | Spared [Open]

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Spared [Open]

"Reducto!"

Cedric had found a spot in the grass of this strange city's park from which to work on his spellcasting, starting with some target practice. He'd pushed back the sleeves of his plantsuit as far as was possible and made long movements with his wand, alternating between creating fast streams of bubbles and shooting them down. The almost childish game of bubble-popping was a simple diversion from the stream of thoughts that was flowng just as fast, one that hadn't stopped since the moment he realized he was alive: I'm about to die. It was hard to comprehend, when it seemed like his life had been going so well just hours ago.

Yet these Ohm had thrown everything off balance. Cedric had gone straight to Stacy to ask for his memories restored, as he'd never rest until he knew the truth of what happened. It had been just as hard to remember as that unicorn princess had predicted. Sure, the curse that was meant to kill him had been thrown off by another attack, but he'd heard awful yells. Harry's. When the sedation had worn off and he'd opened his eyes, he'd had to struggle not to scream.

That was what had happened to disrupt the course of history. For now, he had been given days, weeks, maybe months or a year or two to live, that long until he left this crew behind and met his fate. People had talked about their worlds being restored after the war. The Ohm were supposed had something that would fix things as they were meant to be, and 'meant to be' was his death. If he didn't die during the war, he'd be meeting his end immediately afterward. Time couldn't be changed, not even with a Time Turner. It had to happen.

Cedric was living on borrowed time. No one knew how long it would be until they won. They were going to win, he was sure. A small selfish part of him hoped that it would last a while, that he would have time to finish his unfinished business and learn more, but that was unfair. He couldn't allow the needless deaths to hang over his conscience any longer than necessary. The countless innocents killed during the Ohm's attack needed to live, not him. Billions of lives resurrected in exchange for his death, that was fair. He was the spare, not them. No matter what his father said or the Goblet decided, he wasn't special in the eyes of the universe, was he? He was just...

The spare who had been temporarily spared. A bubble waiting to be popped. Pop, pop, pop went the bubbles as his wand moved more precisely. If this was all the life he had left, he might as well do it right.

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"It's not so bad when you go flying afterward." Cedric would always love that part.

"Yes, there have been Muggle-born witches and wizards. There's a lot of them, actually. And we don't really understand why, it just happens."

The wizarding world had many wonderful things, but it fell woefully behind with any sort of scientific investigations.

"So you're like healers, but you use those technology things? It's got to be one of the hardest jobs." Watching people get hurt, the pressure, the pain...he'd always felt uneasy in the hospital wing, no matter how much he'd trusted Madam Pomfrey to put him back together.

"I don't think I'd like flying. Sounds like you run a risk of falling." Besides, Howard's seen up-close what happens when teens fall several stories. It's far from pretty.

"We have healers too." He shakes his head. "It's not that bad. Mostly it's just being able to think fast and stay focused, which I'm actually pretty good at. You go through so many jackets with all the blood though, for serious."

Right. Muggle medicine. It was supposed to be quite good for the ordinary wounds they faced here...ordinary was very likely to be gory, of course. He didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Then you see a lot of non-magical wounds? Holes, tears...and worse, huh?"

Oh boy.

"Sometimes. Sometimes we just get weird stuff, like this magical clock that turned people into little kids. I never got my thank you card for helping figure that out, by the way." He gestures pointedly at Cedric, as if it's Cedric's fault no one appreciates him or something. "You sound like you've got a weak stomach for that sort of thing."

"Not about injuries, no. I'm a Seeker, I see the worst of them. Concussions, broken ribs, bad slices, splinter incidents. And the tournament was worse, I've almost been cut to pieces and had my face burned off. It's more...I just want to feel it. The scope of the war."

That was the thing that was new to him. He'd train and fight hard, of course he would, but he needed to be ready.

"What's a Seeker?" Howard gets the feeling that Cedric means something more than someone who just looks for things. Must be a wizard term. "Worst I've had is a bitten foot so far, and some cuts and bruises. But I've been real lucky. Normally kids like me wouldn't last half this long in a sort of war situation."

Lucky and smart. Although given how many stupid things he's done for the sake of the mission, lately, 'lucky' seems to be outweighing 'smart'.

"Oh! Sorry, I should be more careful about my words. A Seeker's one of the positions on a Quidditch team. We catch the ball that's worth the most points and usually decides the game, so we get fouled most often. Large flying balls regularly crashed into me."

Cedric wasn't making Quidditch sound very fun, was he? Ah well, just flying was one of the best parts. "So the crew's good at organizing and protecting each other, then?"

He hoped that was what it meant.

"So you're really serious about this Quidditch game stuff. You're like an athlete," Howard says in a tone that one usually reserves for people who pick their nose in public. But then he lightens up a fraction. "I guess that means you're pretty fit, though. I've been getting into shape, running and stuff."

He shakes his head. "No, we're awful at it. But it's not really our fault. Spacey Stacy doesn't give us near enough information to organize jack. And if you ask too many questions, the Daligig break your legs."

Edited 2011-10-07 23:59 (UTC)

"That happens?" Cedric looked rather alarmed. "They're the ones who placed us in this mess, we're the ones putting our lives on the line, and we can't know what's happening and why?"

Well that was entirely backwards in his opinion.

"Supposedly, Han shot first. I mean, my patient. Their name isn't actually Han, that's just a movie thing. I can't use their real name because of confidentiality, you know?" Howard defaults into his babble mode, which is one of his favorite retreats when he's talking about something that makes him nervous.

"But yeah, pretty much, we aren't allowed to know much. We don't know if we're on the right side of the war. We see glimpses of battles and the Ohm destroying stuff, but anything can be painted to make one side or the other look bad in a war. And we go on missions where we end up stabbing the people we're supposed to work with in the back as often as we don't."

He makes a stabbing gesture with one hand. "Not literally stabbing people in the back, but you get my drift."

Cedric's eyebrows shot up. Yeah, that was a definite problem. "That's true. I've just had my memories restored, but...since they were edited out in the first place, they could be edited or false?"

Things were so incredibly confusing. He didn't like the mentions of backstabbing and betrayal, but he would do what he had to.

"To sum it up, we're flying by the seats of our trousers. In a manner of speaking." Plantsuit material, in his case, as he hadn't been down to the boutique to get some trousers yet.

"You never know." Howard shrugs. "I, for once, would be royally ticked if I got stuck with these memories by accident. But I got a bitemark and whip scar that match up with my memories, so that's something in the 'probably real' column.'

He makes a noise between a giggle and a snort. "'Trousers'? Man, you really are British."

"Right. So our worlds were destroyed by them, but there could be another reason." It made his head hurt, really. But they'd learn as they went.

"Is there a problem with being British?" Cedric almost pouted, folding his arms over his chest. He was puffing it up, really trying not to laugh.

"Don't think too hard on it. I do, and all I do is give myself migraines."

Howard shrugs and grins. "No. It's just that being Californian is better." Said with a cheekiness that would be more at home on an elementary school playground.

Cedric laughs, just a little. Not bad, not bad at all.

"So you're a Yank. Never would've guessed," he teased. "Sometimes I wonder what life would be like out there. Nice and dry, for a start."

"Unless it's foggy, but I lived by the ocean, so that's kind of par for the course. I don't really have anything else to compare it to, since I never left the state." He waves a hand around his head. "Until. You know. Spaceship. So it's true what the say about it always raining in England? Is it like Seattle or something?"

"It's a slight exaggeration. Off by a hair, I'd say," he laughed. "We've all mastered rain-repelling charms by second year." Oh, many days of protecting their school bags had taught that lesson well. Ink had an annoying tendency to run.

"It sure would be nice to see rain or sun again, though," he whispered. "At least we know how to dress for the weather?"

"That sounds way more useful than star charts or whatever." Howard shakes his head. "I don't like not having the weather. That's what it was like back home after the world went crazy. You know how hard it is to find shapes in clouds without any clouds? Really freaking hard."

"I liked to look at them too," he admitted, staring at the clear image of a sky above them.

"But...there was a war or something there, right? How'd it stop the weather?" Howard was so guarded that he doubted he'd get an answer, but he thought it an interesting enough problem to ask about.

"I hear we're supposed to get weather, I just haven't seen any yet." He stares up at the sky too, unconsciously mimicking Cedric.

"Nah, war would've at least made sense. The world just stopped making sense. All the adults vanished and kids got superpowers and we got stuck in a fishbowl. But it's a long story and probably not the first thing you want to hear on your stay here, right?" He shrugs. "Anyway, much as we don't know anything about here, Stacy's way better. I can live without weather if there's at least some form of order."

"That is weird," Cedric had to agree, wondering how on Earth all of that could happen. "I could listen if you really want me to, but...yeah. At least we have something of a life here."

So far. Even if it is war and therefore not one of his favourite things.

"I'm not looking for therapy," Howard says defensively. The way people extend their ears always weirds him out. It's one thing for a friend to do, but a relative stranger? It makes him want to just pretend he's a normal kid from an average background, but then he'd eventually have to explain all the survivalist quirks, and it's hard to explain his eating habits without a context.

Howard tilts his heads and squints a bit, trying to both change the subject and put Cedric on the defense. "That's the second time you've mentioned having a life here. What happened to you back home?"

Cedric ducked his head. "Of course not. Sorry. But I've heard we have those?"

He knew when to drop a subject, though, coming around to Howard's next inquiry. Hitting right on the sore spot he was trying to think about and not think about at the same time. It was very confusing to be doing this.

"I died. The most evil wizard in modern history ordered my execution when I realised I was somewhere I shouldn't be. They said something happened to stop it just before, but when we set things right, that's the end."

"And like I said. Really not looking for it." He's considered the idea of looking for counseling, but decided against it on Stacy. Too many conflicts of interest, and it's hard to belief in patient confidentiality when there's a history of mind-controlling demons getting set loose on the ship.

There's a little flash of satisfaction in Howard's eyes that he guessed right, but it's quickly replaced by a more somber expression. A kind of sympathy, even. If they set things right he's probably not far off from death either. "And you're still going to help in the war effort?"

Cedric looked as though he believed the question was ridiculous. How could he just sit by when so much suffering had happened?

"Yes, of course I am. Those memories weren't rays of sunshine. Billions of people died. Of everyone from my planet, there are only a few of us left. And if we fail...I could've misread it, but it sounded as if existence itself will stop. I can't let that happen just to save my own life."

He had thought about it fleetingly, though. It was hard not to with the human drive for survival pressing at his mind.

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