Why?

[Arden Patricks]

Expecto patronum… expecto patronum….
I swallow dryly, closing my eyes briefly and clutching onto my wand in my pocket as I make my way past another pair of dementors. My head is filled with things I’d rather not think about, so I’ve been inwardly muttering the same two words over and over again for what feels like a lifetime already since I’ve been here even though I’ve just arrived. I know that the spell doesn’t exactly work unless it’s spoken and all, but at least I won’t forget what it is and at least I’m not thinking. Much.

Clearly I haven’t been thinking for a while now, or else thinking too much, because for some reason I’m here, in Azkaban, voluntarily. And I feel sick with fear and bad memories, and it’s all for someone that I don’t even like and have only sporadically spoken to in about the last nine or ten years. It’s been ten years, certainly, since I finally gave up on being his friend and pretended that I didn’t care at all. And the many, many low points of our sporadic friendship are featured fairly high on the last of things I’m trying not to think about right now, partly of course because I am here to see him and partially because many of them are some of the worst memories of my life, right up there with Travis and Andra dying and various awful fights.

So why am I here? I ask myself again as I finally approach Logan’s cell, pulling my hands out of my pockets and crossing them protectively over my chest with my wand still clutched in my hand. Because we used to be friends? Because that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason.

[Logan Andrews]

Logan lay on his back in his cell, contemplating the futility of his new life. Yesterday he'd contemplated the futility of his old life. Tomorrow, he might compare his findings. The day after that he would figure out whether he planned to kill himself by starvation, asphyxiation, or if he was just going to lie on the floor and wait to melt into the stone. The day after that he was going to put his plan into action.

Could be worse...
He wanted to kick his own subconscious for saying that. No, he wanted to stab it, to crucio it, torture it up until it's last breath and push it off somewhere high.
It did not get any worse than this. It was endless hour after endless hour of boredom and it stretched on and on and on and on.

He was thirty in four months. Thirty years old in...yeah, roughly four months. Average male lifespan...well, it's about eighty or something. Possibly, he wasn't so sure on that one. That was about fifty years of endless hours of boredom.
No, suicide. Definitely.

He wondered if one of those little sunshiney visits would occur to him today. He wondered if one of his visitors would come by to stare at him as if he was something mutated and strange today.
He wished he had something sharp, and he'd shove it right through the bars and no one would come and stare at him and interrupt his contemplation. They didn't even ease the boredom, pointless visitors.

Liam had come to see him a few times, and he supposed that had warranted some entertainment. Liam was so easy to mess with, all Logan had to do was smile and remind him about the empty cell next door and he was winning, a few more casual remarks and Liam was out. Logan always won when Liam came.
Marilyn had come a couple of times too, brought Finley with her. She didn't say much and neither did Finley and neither did Logan. It was always weird, and he didn't like that much.
Adalia had seen him, she brought Finley too, but not her own kids. No. Never.
That was really about it for his visitors.

He almost regretted never setting down roots. Maybe someone would come and see him who he wanted to see if he had. He was nearly thirty, as he'd already established. That was plenty of time he could have spent starting a real family, maybe even going so far as to give a shit about someone else.
He snorted at this thought, shaking his head wryly. This place was already driving him nuts.

Just a few more days...
Yes, just a few more days and then he was out and hell was waiting. About time, he supposed.

After a moment, he dimly started to wonder how long he'd been lying in the same place, stifled a bored yawn and got to his feet. Brushing himself down of dust, he started to tread the familiar pacing length at the back of his cell, in the shadows away from passers-by. He had to pace occasionally or his limbs would seize up and he'd found out the hard way that just added to his depression.
He watched little clouds of dust rise where his feet hit the shadowy stone floor of the cell, and he decided that he'd contemplated the futility of this life just about enough and maybe he should move on to the next stage of his plan.

[Arden Patricks]

Nope. Definitely not a good reason, I tell myself firmly, very, very slowly approaching the cell where my once best friend is pacing back and forth. I swallow again, hard, and ignore the voice that's telling me it's stupid to be here because I haven't cared in years. But just because I haven't cared in years doesn't mean I don't care now.

My arms have fallen down to my sides without my realizing, and I cross them again but a little more loosely, and put my wand back in my pocket. I nod even though he's not looking at me, finding that I can't make a sound once I open my mouth so that's the best I can do.

Nobody deserves to be here. Not even him.

[Logan Andrews]

"Get out," He didn't look up. He could feel someone was there, someone of the non-dementor variety.
He hated dementors, but so does everyone else on the planet. He hated to be the same as the general population, although on this count he was. Of course he was. No one likes dementors.
No one likes to suffer that way. Logan had enough bad memories to make it so that he really suffered whenever a dementor glided past.

He might possibly be glad of a visitor - maybe he could fuck with Liam's head again. But he probably wouldn't. He didn't feel like staring wordlessly at his sister, because she cried and he couldn't understand why she would even do that. He didn't feel like watching Marilyn cross her arms in that self-righteous way while she hung around and waited for Finley to say something he was never going to say. Finley was never going to speak to him, which was good because Logan didn't want to speak to him either.

Although, occasionally, he might find himself wishing that he acheived better than this.
Simply because...because all of his acheivments were worthless now. After everything, the career he'd worked so hard to develop, the reputation he'd built up to be so feared...it was all worthless in here.
He'd always known this is where he was going to end up, but he hadn't really counted on what would happen to him when it did. He'd just sort of envisioned it as 'the end' and now it was the end and he was still lingering in here, wasting away.

With a bored sigh, as if his visitor had made him look up just to verify that it wasn't someone he wanted to see, he spared a glance in the direction of the bars.
He didn't think he'd moved so fast in months, but he was standing by the front of his cell within what felt like miliseconds.
No, this was a little more interesting.
"Arden...what-...?"

[Arden Patricks]

I half-flinch at his first words, mostly because of the state I'm in more than because they're startling or painful. Almost amusing, really, in kind of a sick, 'well ha, I'm not going to' way and also maybe because they seem like a confirmation that yep, it's really Logan there. So that's sort of... amusing, for lack of a better word. But it's quite a bit closer to heartbreaking to see him in there, looking just a bit too wasted and... well, just being in there in general because he really shouldn't be. I've long since acknowledged he's a despicable scrap of a human being, but I swear that if I thought it would work I'd break him out of there right now.

But I still can't think of anything to say, or anything to do besides just stand there gawking at him, and I'm on the verge of leaving when he stands up abruptly and makes me jump out of my skin, stepping back into what seems to be a little too close vicinity as a pair of dementors, which is the only reason I step forward again.

"Hey," I manage, eying him cautiously, the word seeming entirely out of place here. "You look a bit worse than the last time I saw you."

[Logan Andrews]

"Just a bit," He murmured in response.
He knew he looked an awful lot worse than he ever had. He'd never taken much pride in his appearance and he'd never looked particularly healthy, but he'd never reached the point of skeletal before and he'd never quite looked so gaunt.
He had much larger problems than his appearance at present.

He was very glad to see her and he didn't quite understand that at first. It'd been a long time since they'd last seen each other, and even longer since they'd been on good terms, but the sense of relief and that brief moment of elation that stabbed through his miserable montage of self-pity was really quite surprising.
If there weren't these damn bars in the way, he might have lost his composure and done something ridiculous like hug her.

"What are you doing here?"

[Arden Patricks]

"Yeah," I nod, looking at him more closely and biting my lip. I have the strangest urge to hug him all of a sudden - just about as strange, I suppose, as wishing I could break him out of here. I hadn't realized that I was quite that softhearted.

I look down at the floor at his question, not at all sure how to answer because I still don't know myself. Not really. At any rate the answer is ridiculous, but I guess it's the only one I have.

"Stubbornly unquenchable, stupid sense of loyalty I guess." I shrug slightly. "Ian told me you were in here and... I guess I was bothered for god only knows what reason."

[Logan Andrews]

"Thank you," He murmured under his breath, hooking his arms through the bars so he could lean on them to look out at her closer.
Along with 'sorry' and 'please', 'thank you' was a phrase that rarely passed his lips. But he didn't care anymore.

He'd been in here a long time, it seemed. Days, weeks, months, whatever, they all blended into each other. He could hardly tell if it was day or night, and the only way to roughly estimate the passage of time was to take note of when certain people walked past. Some visitors came back to see other inmates at regular intervals. His didn't, and most of his refused to talk to him, let alone tell him the date or time.
He didn't much care about how long he'd been in here anyway. He just wanted to get out now.
Just a few more days, and then he could be in hell. He was pretty sure that hell was going to be better than this. And he wasn't even sure where that had come from and how it had got lodged in his head, because when he'd come in here, he hadn't even believed in heaven or hell.

"Thank you," He repeated under his breath as if the first time didn't truly show the depths of his grattitude.
It was good to see someone that he actually did care about for once. She'd long since stopped being his friend - he was pretty sure at least, but he'd never considered her anything less.

[Arden Patricks]

I shrug again, eyes on the floor. I've never understood that about him, how he could still seem to consider me a friend, and thank me for what seemed to me like a fairly harsh statement. Most of the time I think I can follow the logic of his thought processes, even if it's a bit twisted, but I don't understand anything when it comes to our friendship. Former friendship. Whatever it is.

I shake my head after a moment, partly to refuse this ridiculous gratitude of his and partly because I don't know what to say but can't just stand there blankly. All the usual sorts of things one might say to an old friend... 'how've you been?' for example... just don't really fit. I still don't even really know why I'm here.

[Logan Andrews]

He half-wondered if it'd be really strange if he asked if he could touch her. Just once and just briefly.
It wasn't anything ridiculous like he thought he might be hallucinating and needed proof that she was real. He knew he wasn't that crazy yet, not yet. And even if he was hallucinating, he would not have hallucinated her because he knew that it just wouldn't happen.
She was breaking all of the logic he'd set down just by being here. Which was quite inconsiderate.
But he wanted to touch another human being. He wasn't sure if he really was starting to go stir-crazy and the isolation was doing strange things to him, but he couldn't feel any warmth anywhere. His own skin was like the same cold stone of the walls around him, that's how it felt at least, constantly chilled.

Maybe it would be best if he would just go mad. He'd end up like all the others in here soon, yelling all throughout the night because they're tortured. This is where torturers come to get a taste of their own medicine. It was much worse than any physical pain, much worse, and he hadn't even gotten as bad as the others here yet.

He still wasn't quite sure why she was here. It would have to be some really warped loyalty to bring her here. There must be an ulterior motive.
Instantly uncoiling his arms from the bars, he sunk back just a little bit, far enough away to be as unresponsive as he was with his other visitors if the need arose, "Why are you really here?"

[Arden Patricks]

I step away just a bit, taken aback, and shake my head again. "I... I don't really know. Just... like I said. Because you used to be my friend and apparently that still means something even though I'm perfectly aware it's ridiculous." I shrug slightly, then look down at the floor again as I try to figure all this out. "I guess... I just wanted to see how you were. I don't know." I laugh very slightly on that last sentence, shaking my head. I know it doesn't make any sense.

[Logan Andrews]

"You wanted to see how I was," He repeated softly, expression hardening further, "I'm in Azkaban, Arden. How do you think I fucking am?"

He didn't want to be angry at her, because she was the only visitor he'd been so glad to see lately.
He couldn't help but be angry with this place, and himself. He should never have gotten caught. He wouldn't have gotten caught if he'd not come home. He was an idiot and paying for it.
No, no, you're paying for your sins.
He frowned a little at this, resolving never to think that again. If he started thinking that, he'd be openly acknowledging what he already knew - that he deserved this place, and then the guilt would eat him from the inside out and he'd go mad and end up just like every other wreck in this place.
That wouldn't happen to him. No.

"No," He shook his head slowly, as if disagreeing with her statement.
He was disagreeing with her statement, you don't come to this place to see how someone is, no one's loyalty is that twisted.
"You're here to tell me I deserve this," He murmured taking a cautious step back towards the bars to look out at her, "Aren't you?"
Marilyn had told him so, Liam had too. His son had told him so, which he thought might have hurt but really didn't. Logan knew he deserved this place.

[Arden Patricks]

I wince slightly, because he's perfectly right and I knew the words were wrong even as I said them. But somehow I can't come up with the right ones because I really, truly have no clue why I'm here - unless I really am the sort of person who puts so much weight on childhood friendships that she'll go to bloody Azkaban out of loyalty to someone that she doesn't even like.

To be honest, I probably am. I hope not, but it's certainly possible since I can't come up with anything else. But I do know that I'm not here to tell him he deserves it, and I start shaking my head before he even finishes speaking.

"Nobody deserves this," I mutter softly. "Not even you. And what kind of... why would I be here just to gloat?" I ask, crossing my arms again in more of a stubborn stance than a protective one. "To laugh at the fact that you're here? That doesn't make any bloody sense. I'm here because you used to be my friend and I feel like I should. You're like a brother, Logan. A brother that I wish had turned out different and I don't particularly like, but family just the same."

This is actually quite an insight on my part, and I feel it explains a hell of a lot about our relationship that I never really could explain before. I've never felt the need for family loyalty based on blood, and stupidly assumed that meant I didn't have that kind of loyalty at all. But there's a lot that makes more sense now.

[Logan Andrews]

"You're an idiot, Arden," He stated simply once he was sure he could force all of the previous suspicion and animosity out of his voice.
Now he spoke in a purely apathetic way, not even bothering with tone or facial expression because it was pointless anyway.

He didn't really want to hear about that, and he didn't really bother to point out this his family did come here and gloat. Or cry, in Lia's case, but she did manage to choke out occasionally that it was so much worse because it was for the best.
For the best, the greater good.

Hadn't that been his original intention? For the greater good.
That's what his original take had been in the whole war, he'd decided a couple of days ago when he'd tried to think about it. Signed up for the greater good - even if it was to save himself as he thought it was the best move for himself then, started off with all misguided intentions, before he'd become caught up in it, been warped after discovering his real talent for it.
So maybe this was for the best after all. He hated it when his sister was right.

He also hated that Arden was here. He'd much rather be planning out his rapidly looming suicide, and it was pointless for her to suffer in here, because she must really be suffering in this place.
Everyone suffered in this place, and surprisingly, he found that instead of not caring overly whether she did or not, he'd much rather she got out of here and escaped it. Even if he couldn't.
"Go home," He muttered, hooking his arms through the bars once again, "You shouldn't even be in this place."

[Arden Patricks]

I laugh very slightly, unamusedly. I can hardly argue with that, except to say that it's neither intelligence or lack thereof that's brought me here. It's ingrained family loyalty, that's all. I can be as smart as I like, and it won't get rid of the loyalty. Or the fact that he's still right, because I really am an idiot and I really shouldn't be here. Not for something as stupid as that. Besides - in addition to loyal and stupid, I can also be quite stubborn when I like. The three traits kind of fit together nicely, being so similar.

"I'll leave when I feel like leaving," I shrug, then realize that would mean I should've left before I even got here. Stubborn loyal idiocy again.

[Logan Andrews]

"Right," He replied slowly, arching an eyebrow but deciding not to push it.
Beyond the initial really weird instinct that was telling him he really shouldn't allow her to be in this place for no good reason, there was also that really selfish notion that wanted her to stay as long as possible or he'd go mad.

"So, anything going on out there?" He inclined his head ever so slightly in the direction behind her.

[Arden Patricks]

I glance over my shoulder for no reason at all, then look back at him and shrug. "No major catastrophes lately. I suppose there's a lot of minor stuff but you'd have to be more specific."

I'm still having trouble figuring out the last time I talked to him, but I think it was four or five years ago and involved mainly stinging, flippant comments on my part. I don't remember what he said back; it was just a weird, accidental meeting someplace I think.

[Logan Andrews]

He shrugged at that. He didn't really want to know anything specific. He just would really like to know anything that might be going on.
In here, it was so isolated. The outside world might have ceased to exist for all he was aware.
He half-wished it had. That would teach those fuckers a lesson.

"Are you planning on coming back?" He asked after a moment, keeping his voice fairly level and indifferent, "Because if you're ever in the neighbourhood, a newspaper would be greatly appreciated."

[Arden Patricks]

I eye him for a moment, then drop my eyes, frowning slightly all the while as I try to figure out the answer to that. This will probably be one of those things, in fact, that makes my mind flipflop so much I go somewhat insane. I really, really hate those sorts of things.

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever do come back," I say finally, shrugging so slightly that it might just be a twitch. But of course I will come back. I can't just leave him like this and never talk to him again. I mean, really I probably can, but on the other hand....

[Logan Andrews]

One of the many things that frustrated him about her, was that he couldn't quite figure out what was going on in that head of hers. The eye contact, the frowns and strange twitches that could be gestures or just twitches.
Did he ever really get what she was on about half the time or was that something that had slipped because he'd not seen her in so long or because of this place messing with his head?

He could successfully say that he had no idea if this meant she was coming back or not, and he didn't really like the uncertainty of that.

"How are you?" The question seemed lame, empty and pointless, but he could think of nothing else to say and didn't want to stand around in complete silence when he had the opportunity to talk to someone for once.

[Arden Patricks]

I laugh again at that, in the same mainly humorless way that reminds me far too much of Fitzy. It isn't quite as stupid of him to ask it as it was of me, but still... we are in Azkaban. At the moment I'm just trying rather hard not to keep reliving what it felt like when Travis died and I sealed myself in my house for three weeks. But I don't really see the point in mentioning that. I'm also rather curious, all of a sudden, what sort of things he thinks about around dementors... what his worst memories are. But that's not exactly something you ask a person.

"I'm... all right," I say finally, shrugging. A nice, generic, useless sort of answer. What the hell else am I going to say? How I work at the library and take care of my niece and all that sort of normal thing like I would to anyone else?

[Logan Andrews]

"Alright is a non-answer," He said wryly.
He was pretty sure he'd heard that before, and he was pretty sure he'd heard it from her somewhere throughout the years and years that they'd known each other.
"It's really quite useless. What have you been doing for the past...however long it's been?"
It wasn't really curious, just some sort of trivial information that he could be dimly aware of during the very long hours that would stretch out between the next break in monotony.

[Arden Patricks]

I can't help but smile very briefly at that. I don't know why. Then I shrug, sighing slightly, and decide that I might as well say something or we'll just stand here silently until I finally leave.

"I don't know how long it's been, really," I shrug, crossing my arms more tightly again because I can't say the next part without bitterness. "I fell in love with a deatheater who got killed a couple of years ago during the Ministry's blasted sweep for people like you... and now I work in a muggle library and babysit my nieces and nephew." I shrug again. "That's about it, really."

It's as good a way as any of summing up about the past eight years of my life. I don't see why he'd care much anyway.

[Logan Andrews]

He raised his eyebrows at that, having to bite his tongue from the insistent 'You fell in love?' comment that had settled and was patiently waiting to be said.
He couldn't really get his head round that. Arden didn't fall in love, it was one of those very few things that they had in common. He wasn't sure how that even made sense because...he never really saw her as a woman, and he'd not really ever taken into account the fact that she even had relationships at all.
He should probably have considered that in the many years they'd been friends.
"My condolences," He replied after a moment, inclining his head very briefly, "And my apologies on behalf of the blasted people like myself."

Then he wrinkled his nose slightly, "A muggle library? Hardly enthralling, I should think."
He supposed he couldn't afford to be that way anymore, hatred on muggles and all their menial little lives got him nowhere in here...it was just wasted. He couldn't help it though.
"And I'm sure the babysitting is very enjoyable indeed. No children of your own?"

He almost laughed at himself then. He couldn't picture her with children, whether they were hers or not and it was a very stupid question. But then again, he'd never ever pictured her being in love either.

[Arden Patricks]

I shrug off the condolences and don't really have a reply to the comment on Muggles, then laugh very slightly in a slightly sarcastic way, shaking my head. "Hardly. Children make me twitchy in large doses. People in general do the same, for that matter." I shrug slightly, glancing at the floor for a moment. It feels like something else needs to be said, but I have no idea what. I'm really starting to hate that feeling.

[Logan Andrews]

"Some things never change," He replied wryly, unhooking his arms from around the bars and resting his hand against the horizontal one that held two verticals together at his chest height, as if testing his strength against it.

He knew there really was no hope for getting out of here. It was just some nervous sort of gesture he'd adopted. He'd found himself pushing against the walls occasionally, or doing like he was now to the bars. It was usually for when the room started to close in, but those awkward times when he didn't know what to say sufficed as well.

It really felt like he was forgetting to say something that was really important.
He couldn't for the life of him think what it was.

[Arden Patricks]

I shrug a bit at that, tilting my head at the same time, and find myself mildly annoyed with him for not saying something it's easier to reply to. Because now it's all silent, and I'm reminded yet again where we are as he squeezes the bars as if testing them. I glance down at the floor again.

"You know I'd break you out of there if I could?" I say quietly after a moment, then laugh very sarcastically and shake my head. "Shows what an idiot I am, obviously."

[Logan Andrews]

"Yeah, it does," He muttered with a slight touch of bitterness.
He'd love to be out of here, he really would, and he'd be smarter, better if he was. But no, he wouldn't be. He'd had his chance, and his second chance, and his third chance...Logan had used up every chance that one person is ever allowed to get, and probably more besides.
Anyone that would even want to grant him another chance was surely an idiot indeed.

He didn't really know where he'd gone wrong, but he knew there were good people and bad people and he knew which category he fell into.
He wasn't sure why, or if he'd just been destined to be that way, or if something had made him that way, or if it'd been his own choices that he made so long ago that he couldn't remember them.
He supposed, maybe you just have to have the bad people to balance out the good. He just didn't know why he'd ended up as one of the worst. He wasn't sure why he was the way he was.

During his adultlife, he'd questioned it a few times and on occasion had tried to stop, but he couldn't stop. He'd made some choice, somewhere down the line, that meant he was stuck to stay the way he was. Or it was some predetermined thing, intervention of a sort maybe, that kept him how he was.

Or maybe he was just going mad already.

[Arden Patricks]

I shake my head a bit at the ground, because I suppose that's the closest I can come to shaking my head at myself. It's ridiculously stupid, really it is. Except maybe it isn't. Because I know I'd do the same thing for Fitzy, even back when I despised him I still would not have wanted him in Azkaban. And I suppose he really is quite a bit tamer than Logan and never did anything as bad.

But, then again... how do you quantify that? How do you decide who's better than another? And nobody, nobody, can possibly deserve this. I agree with Dumbledore - using dementors isn't right. So that's why I would break him out, that's all. It's not just because of loyalty. It can't be. Most of that burned out, to be honest, back around the time he 'killed' Morgan Row. Sometime after that, something snapped. Or I thought it did. So it doesn't even make sense that I'm here.

And I really, really hate how being around Logan always seems to make my thoughts go in ever-more-confusing little circles. I shake my head again, trying to stop that, and look up again.

"You're incredibly infuriating, did you know that?"

[Logan Andrews]

He couldn't help but grin at that, only briefly and not quite properly. He wasn't even sure why that was amusing, but he found it to be.
At least he could still be infuriating to someone, even if he was locked up in here.
"Thank you. Yes, I am completely aware."