I Remus J Lupin:    He made it up in his mind -- knew, before he went, what 
he had to do -- and had steeled himself to it with an obstinancy that only he 
got, when he had fixed his mind upon something, had determined to do it, end 
of story. He was just as stubborn as Sirius, if not more so, when it came to 
matters such as these and this stubbornness was making him ill inside 
because, above all, above all that he had to, he did not want to and felt 
within his stomach and within his heart that he could not. But he came to 
Sirius, anyway; kept himself from falling, collapsing into his arms. He did not, above everything 
else, deserve such things. He did not, above everything else, desever Sirius -- he knew that, now, 
now, more than ever.

siriuslumosnox: Sirius got up from his cramped quarters, hearing the russle 
of movemtn from outside, and leapt across the room, opening the door and 
leaning on it, a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face.  Letting his 
fingers trail through his hair, he looked at the man who stood on front of 
him, and memories demanded to be heard.  This was Remus, his life, his love, 
his mate.  "Hello," he murmured softly. "Care to help out a criminal?" he 
added jokingly.

I Remus J Lupin:    The corners of his eyes crinkled up but there was no 
smile in them; he reached out the hand of a beggar, touched the side of 
Sirius's cheek, fingers soft against it and then he dropped his hand again. 
He didn't deserve such a touch, either, could not allow him these things to 
sway him from his purpose, to lead him away from his path. He would do the 
right thing, however it would kill him; and he would, he knew, die without 
Sirius, but this was punishment, just punishment for himself. He sighed 
softly, and looked away. "...can I come in?"

siriuslumosnox: Sirius lightly tapped the side of the door, and turned around 
to make his way back into the room.  "I told you you didn't need to ask, 
remember?" he called out, chuckling under his breath.  He could tell 
something was wrong, that Remus was unhappy, and he didn't want to shirk from 
that.  Turning back, his smile faded, and was replaced with concern.  "You 
look worried, Moony" he said softly, stretching out a hand. "I want to make 
it better."

I Remus J Lupin:    "...you won't," he said, taking a deep breath, following 
Sirius into the house which was warm, too warm for him -- glutton for 
self-punishment that he was, a man who always felt he deserved it, he was 
tempted to shy away from it. To run. But to run would be to take, again, the 
burden from his own shoulders, to shirk his own duty and his own cross that 
he would bear. 

siriuslumosnox: Sirius raised his eyebrows, and quickly moved across the 
small space, wrapping one arm around Remus' chest.  "Tell me why I won't," he 
said softly.  This was getting far too serious far too quickly, and something 
in his own heart was breaking at the way Remus was looking.

I Remus J Lupin:    His eyes closed, and he lifted his arms, wrapping them 
around Sirius's shoulders for a moment, pulling him gloriously close for a 
moment -- knowing quite well it would no doubt be his last chance at this. "I 
love you," he whispered, "I love you, I love you..." His arms tightened -- 
there was such strength behind him, though he was small, and frail looking 
still -- and then he pulled back slightly. 

siriuslumosnox: Sirius looked at him with a question in his eyes, and cocked 
his head slightly to one side, like a dog.  "I know you love me," he said 
bewildered.  "And I'm honoured that you do."  He ran one hand up Remus' s arm 
and softly squeezed his shoulder.  "Please, tell me what's wrong."

I Remus J Lupin:    He took another deep breath in -- a steadying one. How 
could he live without this? How could he have jeapordized it so? "...I-- I 
did something that I...shouldn't have," he said, very softly. "...I...can't 
ask forgiveness for it, either. I can only-- only tell you, and..." And then 
what? Then that wouldbe it.

siriuslumosnox: Sirius rubbed the shoulder absently, and only half-listened.  
Traitorous thoughts began clambering for attention inside his mind, and he 
looked to Remus for reassurance, but found none there.  Oh Merlin.  He 
couldn't - he can't have...But that's the only thing that could make him hate 
himself so.  He closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall.  "Then tell 
me."

I Remus J Lupin:    It constricted around his heart like a snake, seeping 
coldness, numbness, into his veins, his fingers dug into his palms hard 
enough to draw blood and he found himself speaking -- passionless, mindless, 
words that he would remember later and words he could barely think of to 
describe it. He told him how it happened. That he and Severus had made love; 
that it was his fault, as all things were his fault; that he couldn't say he 
wished he hadn't, for he had, and there was no changing that; there were 
words like, I love you, words like, but I can't ask for forgiveness. I don't. 
I don't deserve it.

siriuslumosnox: Sirius felt his knees go weak, and he slumped into a chair 
behind him, a broken man.  There didn't seem to be much left to say, but he 
had to know.  The details, yes, the devil was in the details.  "W-when?" he 
asked, looking up at the man he loved, his voice cracking, his eyes 
unfocussed.

I Remus J Lupin:    The air went out of his lungs suddenly, the world coming 
back to him, words now having meaning, life remembered in his veins as he 
felt his knees go weak and the muscles of his legs weaken until he was amazed 
he was still standing upright. "Before the masked ball." His fingernails bit 
into his palms.  He felt flesh tear. He was still standing, yes, stomach 
twisting into misery, a deep knot of pain. His fault.

siriuslumosnox: Sirius let out a peal of laughter, short and hysterical.  
"Before the ball.  Before.  You couldn't even say it was an delusional effect 
of your poisoning."  he snorted again, mirthlessly, and looked around the 
small room, clearly in shock.  His lips trembled, and he began to cry, a 
broken man, sitting in a chair with his hands folded uselessly in his lap.  
"Werewolfs asre supposed to mate for life," he murmured.  "You were the one 
thing I always thought I could count on.  You were my life - my soul - you 
brought me back to myself."  He looked up at Remus, and his eyes were 
bloodshot and puffy due to the crying.  "How the fuck am I supposed to live 
without my soul?" he demanded, his voice hoarse and quavering.  "Get out," he 
spat.  "And tell that greasy haired lover of yours that he's very lucky I 
don't tear him in two with my bare hands."

I Remus J Lupin:    He hesitated, faltering. He'd die without him. Silence 
filled him -- pounded behind his eyes, in his ears, filling his blood and his 
muscles. He wondered, for a moment, if he could manage to leave, even on 
Sirius's request. Something he'd ruined, again, something he'd killed -- the 
one thing that was everything, the  one thing that had kept him always alive. 
Sirius. Sirius. He'd hurt Sirius. He could barely think -- and he could 
always think. "I told you," he whispered, voice hollow, "I told you, I had no 
excuses." Two different things, Severus and Sirius; Severus was a folly of 
the man's nature, but God, Sirius was his life, his everything, his mate and 
would always be his mate until-- But it wasn't that, anymore. "I love you. 
I'm sorry." He fumbled. Trembled. The door -- he had to at least make it to 
the door.

siriuslumosnox: Sirius raised himself up from his seat, and stamped over, 
grabbing the door, yanking it open and grabbed Remus by the shoulder, 
propelling him forward and out.  "I don't give a fuck what you say you feel," 
he hissed in the other man's face, tears running down his cheeks.  "It 
obviously didn't mean anything at the time."  He gave Remus a shove, pushing 
him out into the sunlight, and stood in the door, watching his life fall 
apart.

I Remus J Lupin:    He stumbled backwards, found his legs did work, found 
that sickness rise up in his throat, and felt, deep down in himself where all 
he did was hate himself, viciously, passionately, justified; his chest sang 
this song of hate, self-hate that couldn't be combatted by any sort of love 
and would always be there, a sugary sickness that could kill, and had killed, 
had killed this, the only thing that could save it from him. He shook his 
head, his eyes wide. Not all the perfumes of Arabia... "I know," he 
whispered, "I know. I'm sorry. I know." Like a dog -- that came to the foot 
that kicked it -- again -- seeking out that punishment.

And then he turned, and ran.