Caught in the Cold (-Matthew-)

[Amelia Raven Blake]

The sky was overcast, the clouds blotting out the sun although a few strands filtered through the puffy white cotton balls giving off little warmth in the middle of winter. Snow layered the ground in a large icy blanket, the particles breaking up beneath the woman's feet as she walked, shivering violently. The heat escaped her frail body so easily, to say she was malnourished was an understatement. She was like a walking skeleton, ready to break apart at any given moment. She hadn't cared to grab a coat, she honestly didn't care if she caught cold, she'd lost the two people she loved most.

A foggy breath rose before her, spiraling into the chilled air like a ghostly stairwell as she breathed out, her lips slightly hued blue and her fingers lost in numbness. Flakes of fine white powder stuck into the mats of her once elegant waves of blonde. Her eyes, once a beautiful sapphire blue were now dulled with pain, sorrow and days without sleep or food.

She stumbled at that point, her legs shaking like an earthquake beneath the denim of her jeans. Tears leaked down her face, she couldn't feel the hot sadness as it slipped down her pale face, the warmth sucked right out of her. She practically collapsed into the bench, wrapping her arms around herself, waiting for the Grim Reaper to come and claim her for Death, waiting for the cold to seep into her bones and whisk her off into a world of darkness that she'd never again wake up from.

Amelia thought about everything in her life. Up until now, her life had been ...okay. There was so much good, but then there was a lot of good but did the good outweigh the bad? Or were there too much horrible memories in her past? Her parents' deaths. Sully. Clint. John....John...the best thing that had happened to her, the thing that made her life worth living. Alyss...her beautiful daughter, the daughter that she would never forget.

The blonde shivered in the intense cold, her breath coming out in puffs of vapor, warm against the frigid air. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, rubbing up and down her arms, trying to keep what little warmth inside of her as she could. She was starting to regret this, but what's done was done and there was no way she was getting up, to tell the truth, she didn't even think her legs would be able to hold her. So instead of getting up and heading for a warm place, Amelia leaned back against the iced back of the bench and closed her eyes, waiting for death, her whole body quivering.

[Matthew Reid]

With a steaming cup of coffee - fresh from Starbucks - in his hand, Matthew wandered through the snow with a frown. He'd been up half the night last night due to the fact that one of his patients at the asylum had decided to go walk about at eleven and been found in the gardens, screaming that it was all going to burn down. No one could figure out two things: how he'd gotten out of his cell, and how he'd gotten through the asylum and outside. But after that, they'd all been able to go back to whatever they were supposed to be doing. For Matthew, that had been going home and hopefully sleeping. But now he was outside, in the snow and the cold with a coffee in one hand, his other in his pocket, his bag strap across his chest - from one shoulder to the hip on the other side - and across his coat and big woolen jumper.

As his Converse clad feet crushed the snow on the ground, Matthew pushed his glasses up with the warm hand and sipped at his coffee before mentally scolding himself because it was boiling hot and burnt his tongue. Well, at least he might warm up that way...

Seeing someone stumbling, Matthew frowned with slight concern. He didn't know her, from what he knew, and so probably seemed odd for being concerned for a complete stranger but she didn't exactly look healthy and didn't seem to have a coat. Why would anyone go outside without a coat on? He moved over to her silently, watching from a slight distance as she seemed to try and warm herself up by rubbing her arms. He moved a little further away to put his coffee down and pulled his coat off under his bag strap, in order to not have to take that off too, before picking the coffee up and, with his red and yellow jumper still on, held onto the coat with his other hand. As he glanced at her while making sure he had a good grip on the coat, Matthew felt the familiar feeling of panic beginning to bubble inside him. Was she dead? He really hoped not.

Hurrying over to her while biting his bottom lip, Matthew put his coffee down on the bench while moving to put the coat over her. She coudn't be dead already. He'd just seen her moving and being very much awake and he knew that it took a little longer than a few seconds for someone to die from the cold. It was something odd he'd looked up once when he was bored. Matthew had looked up a lot of strange things while he was bored, actually...

"Um, are... Are you okay?" Matthew asked, now stepping back a little while leaving the coffee where it was and moving to crouch down in front of her. "Hello?" His voice was a little softer, a little quieter as he considered that maybe she was unconscious. Perhaps his first question should have been 'can you hear me?' instead of 'are you okay?'. It was pretty obvious she wasn't okay at all. She was seemingly trying to sleep on a freezing cold bench. That was not the behaviour of someone who was okay. That was the behaviour of someone who didn't seem to have the energy left to carry on moving...

[Amelia Raven Blake]

In those few moments that her eyes were closed, Amelia recalled memories of her and John, together...being partners, surviving bullets, laughing, being fools, crying, frowning, grinning, teasing each other, riding in the car blasting the radio; she passionately remembered how they'd randomly change the channel while the other was belting out a tone they were particularly found off...and now...now it was all gone. John was dead. Amelia was left to live and keep living.

Then she was pulled from her reverie as she felt something placed around her shoulders, it was warm. Her eyes fluttered open, dull and blue. Her shaking hands pulled the coat tighter around herself, her orbs of blue meeting the figure of a man crouched before her. It took her a moment to catch up on what he'd said, but when the meaning finally attached itself to her brain she just nodded at him.

"I-I-I-I-I'm f-f-f-fi-fi-fin-fine," her teeth chattered together when she spoke, a shiver racking her body. She shivered violently against the cold despite the coat that had been placed around her shoulders. Her blonde hair fell in tangled strands across her shoulders as the coat fell down a bit and she didn't have the strength to move it back up against her shoulders.

Up close, one would be able to count basically all the bones in her body. She had been starving herself since John's death. She hadn't smiled since then, she didn't smile now and if she did, it couldn't even be called a smile on her quivering lips her breath floating above her. She couldn't feel her fingers, the numbness had taken over not too long ago but she could feel it slowly creeping through her body. Maybe, finally, death had come to set her free. She just didn't want to live anymore, that much was obvious.

She met his eyes, hers holding no hope as they once had. "I'm a lost cause," she stuttered out, releasing his eyes with her grief filled hold, staring sightlessly at the ground. Just come and kill me. she thought, desperate for the comfort of her husband and the reinsurance of her daughter. She missed them too much to go on.

[Matthew Reid]

Relief replaced the panic as the woman opened her eyes. Well, at least she wasn't dead or unconscious. The fact that she seemed to think she was fine worried Matthew a lot, more than it should have, probably. The worry showed on his face as he looked at her silently. He didn't know what to say, and didn't want to anger or potentially upset her by arguing with her. He didn't know what was making her say that she was fine, but he hoped to find out and maybe help her. He was a psychiatrist and a naturally caring person, the want to help her was not something he could control... Not that it was really a bad thing...

As the coat fell, Matthew moved to pull it back up after hesitating for a moment. Maybe she didn't want his help... Maybe she wanted him to leave her the hell alone... She seemed to be extremely underweight, which made Matthew worry a little bit more. It didn't seem possible for Matthew to worry any more about her, even though they'd only just met, but it probably was possible. Matthew had no idea how much he could worry about someone, really. It wasn't something he had ever tried to figure out, either...

As she told him that she was a lost cause, Matthew felt himself frowning. No. She was not a lost cause! Even if she was then he wasn't going to go away.

"I highly doubt that..." He said softly, not moving from where he was crouched while still watching her. "And even if you were, I wouldn't leave you here. It's freezing and you were out here without a coat on..." He trailed off, looking somewhat thoughtful while biting the inside of his bottom lip as his gaze turned to the ground then moved back up to her. "Someone would miss you. Maybe not the first person you'd think of, but someone..." He stated, his voice remaining soft while he watched her behind his large glasses. He shifted a little and looked at the ground again. He wanted to ask her if she wanted to talk to him, but she probably didn't and if he asked her then she might just get annoyed with him or think he was being nosy and he didn't want to seem nosy at all because he really wasn't, just concerned...

"I... I know we've only just met, but... If you want, you can talk to me..." He offered before adding quickly: "O-Only if you want to. I mean, it's up to you..." His words trailed off as he bit his bottom lip again. He felt awkward. This was awkward. She probably really didn't want to talk to him and he was offering her help and now she probably just wanted him to go away instead of... Kind of lurking here, actually... Now he wasn't so sure that he was doing the right thing, though. Maybe he shouldn't have offered... It was done now, but Matthew could feel a familiar tightening in his chest of instantly regretting something. This usually happened when he was talking to people outside of his work... It happened when he said something, regretted it and silently panicked about what the other person would say and think. This was not something unusual for him, unfortunately... To distract himself from it, though, he reached for his coffee and took a sip, now glad that it had cooled down a lot.

[Amelia Raven Blake]

She didn't know why this man carried, she was just a woman at the end of her pitiful road, he had a life before him. Amelia had fallen back into her old ways, not thinking that people should care about her because she just didn't deserve it. She was a broken soul and she didn't think that someone like the man in front of her should care to stop.

She looked up at him as he moved pushing the coat back up to her shoulders. She searched his eyes gently with hers. Why do you care? she wanted to ask, but her voice failed her, instead she pictured John. This man reminded her so much of him. He would stop to help a random stranger on the street because he was just that sort of man. The thought of John brought tears to her eyes and a few dripped down her face, she was still unable to feel the warmth of the salty crystals.

She swallowed, trying to get a hold of herself, looking at the ground, listening to his words as he spoke. She didn't think anyone would miss her. She wasn't worth that sort of feeling, she had never been worth anything. She didn't think she had deserved John's love. He had deserved someone who was prettier and wasn't so damn messed up.

The tears began to drip faster at his next words. Why did he have to be so much like John? She looked away from him, trying to control her tears as they came faster. She could hear the nerves in his voice but she didn't comment, instead she struggled to compose herself.

However, when she did finally speak, her words made the tears rain down once more, "My..my husband died...." she choked out, voice cracking and stuttering in the cold.

[Matthew Reid]

Seeing tears beginning to roll down her face, Matthew couldn't help feeling bad. It may not have been his fault that she was crying - and quite honestly, Matthew had no idea whether it was or not - but he felt bad regardless. He was half-assuming that it had been his fault, because a small voice at the back of his mind was telling him that he'd said something to cause her to cry. He wanted to say sorry but, after the offer, he also didn't want to say anything at all because he was pretty sure she was going to tell him to leave her alone. What she did instead was, possibly, worse. It did explain why she was crying, though. Rather, in Matthew's mind it did. Judging by her reactions and behaviour it was recent, which explained a lot more than if he'd died a few years ago. Of course, Matthew knew that people grieved at different speeds and with different methods. Some people thought about it constantly for days and cried, some people moved on quickly and barely left themselves time to think about it, and others kept busy to avoid conversations about the deceased and avoid remembering that it had actually happened. That had been Matthew's way when his mother had died. His sister had done the first way - including screaming at Matthew because he'd gone back to work as quickly as he could. Though, given the fact that Matthew had also become an alcoholic after his mother died, perhaps his way hadn't been the best...

"I... I'm sorry..." He couldn't think of anything else to say and, while he hated it when people said sorry for someone else dying, it was the only thing that came to mind... Then came all that he knew about different beliefs so far as the afterlife went. He wasn't entirely sure that it would help to tell her about the Ancient Greeks' beliefs as to where good people and bad people went would make her feel any better... That is, where the Greeks' believed they went after going to Hades - ruled by the god named Hades - and the journey to get there which would - according to their beliefs - require them to cross the river Styx by giving a coin, that they would have been buried with, to the boatman 'Charon', then appeasing the three-headed guard dog 'Cereberus' with honeycake... Especially seeing as how Matthew doubted very much that her husband had been buried with a coin for the boatman... "I'm not sure if this helps," Matthew began quietly, holding his coffee between his hands while resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze not on her face for now as he tried to figure out the best way to word what he wanted to say. "but he'll still be with you... I... That doesn't make sense... Sorry. Um..." Sirius Black really had worded that better than Matthew could. So had Neville Longbottom, come to think of it. Well, no, they'd both had pretty much the same wording but that was beside the point. The point was that Matthew was terrible at comforting people and other than just repeating Sirius' words from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban to her, Matthew had no idea what to say. Looking her in the face, Matthew took a deep breath to stop himself from just collapsing into a nervous heap and tried again.

"Some people believe that those who die watch over us..." It probably still wasn't making sense but at this point Matthew just wanted to say something good instead of something incredibly strange. "But even if they don't, they're always with us in our memories and our feelings because we don't really forget anyone..." To hell with it. Bring out Sirius' words. "As a wizard in a film said, 'those who love us never really leave us, but we can always find them... In here.'" As he said the last word, Matthew gently tapped where his heart was before he gave a shrug. "Gary Oldman says that a lot better than me... Sorry about that." He said, scrunching up his face a little with a new amount of awkwardness seemingly filling Matthew.

Well, if you're going to try comforting someone, why not fail miserably and quote Gary Oldman as an insane wizard fugitive? For all Matthew knew, this woman was a Harry Potter fan and the voice of Gary Oldman's soft, English accent could ring in her ears for a little while instead of Matthew's slightly awkward, Las Vegas accent... He took another sip of coffee as he tried to almost hide behind the action of drinking. He was terrible at comforting people, really, but at least he tried? Nope. That wasn't a good thing at all. He shouldn't have said a damn word. Too late now, though Matthew could hope that she wouldn't ask him to repeat it or could ask her to just forget that whole fiasco. Hoping was easier and less likely to make him look completely unable to handle the situation... What situation? The situation of having to talk to another human being who was unhappy - possibly depressed - because her husband had died. One hell of a situation, if you asked Matthew...

((Notes: Can I just laugh at how bad Matthew is at talking to people please? It's just... I feel sorry for him. *Sniff* also, his accent: [x]))

[Amelia Raven Blake]

The blonde looked at him when he said that he was sorry. Her dull blue eyes leveled on his face, "It's not your fault." She ran a hand back through her hair, wincing as her fingers caught in a few knots. She didn't understand how this man could be so much like John, yet so different. She sighed, her breath hovering in the air as a silence settled over them for a time before he began to speak once more.

She nodded, "Actually it makes a great deal of sense, sir." Her French accent came in thick in her words. She rolled the ring around her finger. "I know that somehow he's still with me...it's just hard waking up in the morning knowing that I won't ever speak to him again, won't ever laugh with him again..." She cocked her head at him, a small strand of honeysuckle falling across her face. "Don't apologize for making sense." She told him.

She nodded as he continued on, she had been a ghost she had watched over John despite his disbelief in ghosts. Her memories, yes. She still had memories, ones that she relieved day after day. She still had pictures. He wasn't really gone. He was still there just not in a physical form, then why was it so hard to let go?

Then he quoted Gary Oldman from Harry Potter and Amelia couldn't help the smile that curved her lips. She chuckled softly, "I never would have thought that some day I would be cheered up by a quote from Harry Potter." That very small smile still on her face, she turned to look at him, her eyes glittering slightly, but just slightly.

She offered her hand. When she spoke, she was surprised by what came out, she didn't know what made her say it considering she had never introduced herself to anyone using her real name but for some reason, god only knew, Amelia said, "Anastasia Leroux, but I tend to go by Amelia Blake."

[Matthew Reid]

Matthew nodded softly as she said it wasn't his fault. He knew it wasn't. Logic and his memory told him that it was impossible that it was his fault, especially given the fact that he didn't even know her or her husband, but he didn't say any of this. It was easier to just nod to show he knew or understood or agreed or... Actually, Matthew had no idea why he'd nodded. Perhaps just to tell her that he'd heard her. That was most likely. He still felt a little bad that she'd been hurt. Even though it wasn't his fault and he couldn't have stopped it, Matthew still managed to feel bad. That was magic.

"I know, but I'm sorry that you've been hurt..." That sounded a lot less creepy in his head, truth be told. It also sounded less like he loved her. That was strange. Matthew had never actually sounded like he loved someone without meaning to. "That sounded... I didn't mean..." He pulled a face, his heart making it quite hard to breath as it pounded against his lung with that fact that it had made him sound like he loved her and it was obvious to Matthew if not her. Why the hell had he said that?! "It sounded better in my head..." He mumbled, looking at his coffee now as his cheeks began tinting red. How to become an awkward creeper: Step one - be Matthew. Step two - say something unintentionally romantic. Step three - realise how it could be taken and panic because of it. Step four - repeat step three continuously.

As she said that what he'd been saying made a lot of sense, Matthew realised that he hadn't actually introduced himself. He'd never spoken to someone for more than a minute without introducing himself to them first. How strange. Well, there had been more important things to do than tell her his name, he supposed, like trying to make sure she didn't freeze to death. Actually, she seemed to be at least a little better now... That was good. Noticing her accent, Matthew wondered momentarily how long she'd been in the US before he forced those thoughts away. They were distracting and he hadn't needed distracting while he was trying to cheer her up or comfort her or... Something. Lord only knew what he was actually doing... She told him not to apologise for making sense and Matthew very almost apologised for apologising for making sense. He managed to catch himself before he actually said another sorry, though, and instead just gave a small smile and nodded again.

After he'd quoted Sirius Black like the Harry Potter geek he was, Matthew saw her smile and couldn't help laughing a little at her words.

"It's because it's - uh..." He pushed his glasses up his nose a little, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked at her. "Magic." He said, nodding knowingly while his cheeks seemed to burn just a little bit more at what he'd said. It was terrible. It was so terrible. It also seemed a little bit like he was trying to flirt, in Matthew's opinion and he wasn't. He definitely wasn't. Not only because her husband had died but also because they'd only just met and Matthew had never flirted intentionally with anyone at all in his life. If he'd ever flirted with someone, it had been completely unintentional. "Sorry. That seemed like I was flirting. I wasn't. I... Ah... Sorry..." He trailed off. Why was it so difficult to talk to her like another human being?! Why couldn't his brain just go 'this is funny and geeky but say it' and it not sound strange or have him panicking about it being taken the wrong way?! The many, slight issues with being Matthew...

As she offered her hand, Matthew hesitated a little before taking it. Her introduction made him a little curious as to why she didn't go by Anastasia, but instead of asking any questions, Matthew merely nodded.

"Nice to, um, meet you. I'm... I'm Matthew Reid..." He half-stuttered and took his hand from hers as subtly as he could before he gave a slight point to the bench next to her. "D-Do you mind if I sit there?" He asked, waiting for an answer before he even considered moving. If she said that she didn't mind and that he was therefore free to sit there, then he would but if she didn't then he'd stay here. He didn't mind, though his legs were beginning to seize up a little, he thought. He could easily have been wrong but he doubted it... It wasn't often someone could be wrong about whether or not their legs were seizing up, after all.

[Amelia Raven Blake]

Amelia was unable to get over the fact that this man was so much like John, it just didn't seem possible that they could be so much alike and yet so different. While they were both kind and caring, John was more hotheaded and this man, whose name she would soon learn to be Matthew, was more reserved, quiet. She couldn't help titling him as a friend of sorts right from the off.

At his next words the blonde smiled slightly, personally she hadn't thought it sounded too strange, maybe a little considering they'd only just met but she wasn't creeped out by it in any way. She shook her head and said, "It's fine," she glanced at him. "I know you didn't mean it like that..." she finished the sentence silently, it's not like anyone could love me...I'm actually surprised John did.

She was actually surprised to find that she rather enjoyed talking to him. He took her mind off everything else that was swimming through her head. It took her mind off John. That was a surprise. Talking to him took her mind off the cold that had been stopped by the coat around her shoulders, that she had pulled tighter around herself without realizing it as they spoke.

She shifted slightly on the bench, for a moment taking in the spectacle of the frosted landscape. The park itself was covered in a layer of ice that glimmered in the faint sunlight as it crusted the bare tree limbs. Icicles hung delicately, but dangerously, from the broad overhangs of shops, casting a rainbow of colors across the air when the pale pool of light hit it just right.

She laughed softly at his words about it being 'magic'. She was also smiling. John had never understood her obsession with the books or the movies, but sat through watching them and, despite his promise at the beginning, he always ended up falling asleep and would wake at the last moment of the film to raise a brow and ask, "What happened? What I miss?" And to that, Amelia would laugh and cuff him lovingly before snuggling into him and kissing his cheek. She'd whisper, "Everything." mockingly, before grinning once more at him.

She glanced at him, "Stop apologizing, it's fine, really." Amelia met his eyes, hers shining gently as she assured him. "John never did understand my obsession, as he called it," she laughed softly. "Finally, someone else is, at least I'm assuming, please correct me if I'm wrong, as crazy over them as I am." She smiled over at Matthew for a moment before realizing that she was smiling again. For the longest time she hadn't thought she had a reason to smile, but now, something as simple as Harry Potter and this man she had only just met, had brought one to her face.

Amelia still didn't understand why she'd said 'Anastasia Leroux' and not Amelia Blake, that was the way she always introduced herself, so why was it different now? She shook his hand, a simple, yet firm, up and down and then her hand was slowly lowered to her side. It was a French thing that she had never let go of. She glanced away, her eyes flickering away from his brown orbs. "It's...it's uh complicated," she said, frowning a little, "I guess just call me Amelia..." Amelia Raven Blake was the life she lived now, she had left Anastasia Odette Leroux behind.

"It's a pleasure," she smiled at him and nodded readily to his next question. "Oh! Yes, yes, that's fine! I should have offered, I'm sorry." Her words came out quickly, rushed so that they nearly jumbled together. She felt bad that she hadn't even offered for him to sit on a bench, she had seen him kneeling there. It wasn't fun when one's legs began to go numb from sitting like that for so long. "I'm sorry," she apologized again, frowning slightly, casting him a glance with an apologetic light glittering in her blue orbs.

[Matthew Reid]

Matthew gave a grateful smile, though a very small voice in the back of his mind told him that she was just being polite. He doubted that, but he supposed that it was possible. No, probable. It was probable, but so long as he didn't think it was true then it would be fine. This whole thing would be fine for once... Hopefully.

After he'd possibly (probably) unintentionally fliirted with her and apologised... Twice... Matthew couldn't help the fact that he may have been blushing a little more while she assured him that it was fine. It wasn't fine! It wasn't fine at all! Matthew wasn't going to say that it wasn't fine, though. Why on Earth would he do that? It was a lot less trouble to just nod in agreement and move on as she looked into his eyes. Well, she didn't seem to be just trying to be polite. She carried on talking - mentioning a John who Matthew assumed had been her husband - and Matthew shook his head as the blush died slowly in his cheeks, dulling the red back to his usual cheek colour. He nodded as she assumed he was 'as crazy over them' as she was. Well, it was possible one of them was more obsessed than the other but that was pure nitpicking.

"Yes. Yes I am. It's a slight obsession." He smiled, laughing a little as his small smile turned into a small grin instead. "But when you consider the fact that it started as more of a children's series and less of an adult's series then it's quite strange that they're as deep and as..." He paused to think of the correct word, looking thoughtful. "... I can't remember the word..." He mumbled, now frowning. Why couldn't he remember it? Damn hell what was that word?! It began with I, didn't it? Or did it? Maybe it was E. No, enchanting was not the word though it was a good word. "I don't know it, but... As easy to get into as a series as they are... It's also quite impressive how the books and their themes have gotten more grown up and darker as the series goes on." He said, eyebrows rising a little. Here came the ramble.

"It's obvious when you compare the first book to the last book - or the first film to the last two films - because the first book as a young, child protagonist who loses his parents very early on and ends up in a house that child services could easily take him out of for abuse and then he's introduced to this entirely new world which has things he's never seen before, but he's very humble and reserved about everything. I know a number of people who would have been a lot more vocal about how happy they'd be to get away from the Dursleys - including my sister, actually..." He gave a hint of a frown, pausing for a moment before the frown was gone. "And as he's introduced to this new life, he meets two extremes of one bloodline - Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley - who actually show that not everyone in one group is the same and the series as a whole tackles a lot of real life issues... But by the end of the first book we have this idea that there are things worth fighting for and a young protagonist who has defeated the antagonist of the entire series using things that the antagonist wouldn't... Which also seems to be a theme in the first book because Hermione points out in the room with the potions that it's a logic puzzle. She actually says 'This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic...'. What she means is that the wizarding society is different to the muggle society. Harry and Hermione have been brought up in the wizarding society so once she says that it's not magic, anyone who's used to magic being the answer would be stuck while someone who can see that it's logic and therefore doesn't rely on magic will be more likely to figure it out. It's actually quite brilliant, really, given that there are wizards who don't think that muggles are as good as them but I'm willing to bet that, like Hermione said, if one of them were in that situation then they'd be stuck there and wouldn't be able to think of or figure out how to get out of that situation. It's ironic that she, a muggleborn, figures it out but the sequel has the idea that a muggleborn is somehow not as important as a pureblood... If Ron and Draco were in that situation they wouldn't be able to figure it out..." He trailed off, realising that he'd somehow gotten off of the topic of how the series had grown up with the target audience.

"But... Um... Back with the fact that the series grown up in terms of themes... The seventh book - seventh and eighth films - have this hunt for horcruxes which puts the protagonist and his friends in a lot of danger, which carries on the theme of the rest of the series that friendship and loyalty are important, and again the protagonist uses something that the antagonist doesn't. Harry goes into that forest purely to stop You-Know-Who from hurting anyone else. Also because then he can finish his quest to destroy each horcrux but he doesn't know that Hermione and Ron will definitely be able to do it and it's led by his want to stop the Battle of Hogwarts because Fred's died as well as Snape and he's seen both of them. He didn't actually see Fred die but he's seen the impact of it and doesn't want that to continue with the other people who stayed behind - who were mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs - to go through the same thing as he did with his parents and as the families and friends of anyone who'd already died at this point..." He continued, oblivious as to just how much he was rambling now. "And so he goes off to essencially meet death on his own terms as he doesn't go straight away but finds out whatever he needs to first and it's only once he's ready that he finally does go. This is minicking the story of the three brothers early on. Snape's death does as well, actually. You-Know-Who believes that Snape is the owner of the Elder Wand and kills him, which is what happens to the first brother, while the third brother waits until he's ready before he greets Death. It's interesting that Harry does the same thing, especially because he's probably a decendent of the third brother and the cloak was passed from father to son." He stated, pushing his glasses up his nose a little before sipping at his coffee, which was beginning to cool faster than before. "But with each book it gets darker until we have the death of the protagonist which isn't actually death but more of a limbo-like state due to the fact that part of You-Know-Who's soul had attached itself to him. It's strange that it attached itself to him and not the cat they apparently had... It's possible there was an eighth horcrux at some point but the cat may have died..." He trailed off thoughtfully, now wondering whether or not part of You-Know-Who's soul would protect a cat and allow it to live for longer than its natural lifespan... Another seven books could come from the cat having lived... For once in his life, Matthew was hoping it had.

He opened his mouth to continue rambling, realised that he'd been rambling, and quickly closed it again as another hot blush flew into Matthew's cheeks and he looked down at his coffee.

"I... Sorry. I didn't mean to... Ramble... It... I... Sorry..." He ended up saying, finishing rather quietly. He nodded again at her words and gave her a grateful nod and smile as she told him that he was fine to sit down. Thank gosh for that. She apologised and Matthew shook his head dismissively.

"It's fine, honestly." He told her softly while moving to sit next to her and sipping his coffee again. He was quite glad that his trousers were thick, really, otherwise he would have probably given a noise of surprise as to the coldness of the bench. Given that he couldn't feel it, though, Matthew remained silent while mentally scolding himself for rambling quite so much about the Harry Potter series. Given that it had been about five years since the last book - and at least one year since the last film - then it was no surprise that people completely over-analysed things and noticed patterns as they re-read and re-watched each one. It was quite ingenious of J.K.Rowling, in Matthew's opinion, to put in small things that you probably wouldn't notice on the first read through... He wasn't going to say that, though. He'd already embarrassed himself enough without pointing that out too...

((Notes: 1522 words. The rambling takes up 780 words from '"It's obvious' to 'but the cat may have died..."'... HAHA.))

[Amelia Raven Blake]

Amelia picked up that he wasn't entirely sure with her attempts to assure him that it was fine, but she didn't say anything. She didn't want to bring it up and possibly drive the only person she had actually enjoyed talking to in weeks away. She hadn't seen the blush on his cheeks, and even if she had she wouldn't have brought it to anyone's attention as she would have to John if he was blushing, she'd teased him every time she caught it. She smiled at his nod, the smile turning to a smirk of sorts as her mind brought her back to John and his confusion when ever he'd wake in the middle of a move and question her to no end which would just leave her no other choice other then to laugh at him.

She laughed softly, at his reply. Her laugh wasn't something that had been heard since the day John died in her arms, she could still feel his heart failing beneath her fingers as she begged him to stay with her, the tears a tsunami as they soaked her cheeks, but now here she was smiling and laughing like nothing had ever happened. Something had happened, a very big something had happened and Amelia was glad for the distraction. She cocked her head in thought. Now that she thought about it, they had sort of grown up with the main protagonist and the readers. "A lot of series are like that," she commented, thinking back to a few of the other series she'd read, "Take Lord of the Rings for example, the first book, and move for that matter, started more light and then by the last one it was darker...I suppose that happens to closer you get to the climax?" She shrugged, and fixed him with a soft blue gaze as he began to speak once more.

She listened to his words, interested in what what he was going to get to. Who knew, she thought, that a simple book series could distract me. However as soon as she thought that the memories of John came crashing back, but she didn't have to face them for long for she focused on Matthew's voice instead of the pictures in her head. She frowned slightly when he spoke about his sister, but she didn't ask for she saw the frown creasing his face as well. She wasn't going to ask him to recall painful memories, she knew exactly how hard it was to face the past.

Amelia thought about what he'd said, it was quite interesting as to what he was getting at in his rambling speech, which she actually found both amusing and fascinating. She smiled suddenly, chuckling softly as her thoughts once more went to John. She couldn't imagine how confused he would have been at this moment and couldn't help but laugh. She turned to Matthew and apologized, "Excuse me, but I just couldn't help thinking about how confused my husband would have been listening to this. It's quite amusing really." She smiled brightly at him, her blue eyes shining. The blonde quieted as he once more began to speak, and he pointed out with his words of 'back with the fact the series grown up in terms of themes...' and Amelia realized that she herself hadn't realized he'd taken a path away from his original path of speaking, she hadn't minded.

Amelia watched him as he continued, everything that came from his mouth making sense to her, but would have sent John into a frenzy of questions and confusion. She could just imagine one of his questions being 'Can you explain what a horcrux is?' or '...What the hell are griffin doors and...huffle puffs?'. She had to hold in a laugh at those thoughts, it had been entertaining to tease her husband on his confusion on the whole thing and more then once she'd forced the book into his hands, but he'd be distracted, in his words, either her, or a football game.

She actually hadn't thought about that before, but now that he brought it up Amelia nodded thoughtfully. It made a lot of sense and now she was able to see how close the two stories really were. She was smiling again, it was interesting that he chose to say 'You-Know-Who' instead of Voldemort.

Amelia cocked her head in thought. Now that she thought about they had apparently had a cat. That was an interesting thought. Had the cat survived? She was hoping it had, for two reasons. One, she was quite fond of cats, considering she had one herself and two, then perhaps there was a reason for another book. What an interesting thought. "To tell the truth," she said when he was finished, "I actually had never thought about that." She had actually forgotten about the cat.

She glanced at him when he opened his mouth and then he shut it, looking down at his coffee. This time she did catch the blush and was about to say something when he beat her to it.

"No, no! That's fine, it was fascinating, really. If you hadn't said something I never would have thought of it that way, I'm grateful for your rambling. It takes my mind off everything else," she smiled at him. "I'd rather concentrate on Harry Potter then my husband dying in my arms." There she went again, she just had to bring it into her head again. She muttered out a curse. She didn't want to be like this, she knew she was pushing all the others that she loved away being her old depressed self and she hated it, but this was her husband and it left a mark when the one you loved more then life itself died in your arms.

"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning, glancing over at him in concern. She arched a brow when he took a sip of the coffee. "That's aught to be mighty cold by now," she said, "I could buy you another one, if you'd like...it would make up for leaving you kneeling there for so long," she offered, still feeling bad for having left him like that. But then again she hadn't know that their conversation would last longer then a minute.

[[Notes - hehe I loved his ramble. xD Mine is 1048, it's kind of a fail but oh well. Enjoy!]]

[Matthew Reid]

Matthew smiled softly at her laughter, glad that she seemed to have found amusement in his reply. Honesty really did seem to be the best policy... She commented on what he said, stating that a lot of series were like it, and Matthew gave a found of thoughtfulness. He hadn't read too many series aimed at children, not even Lord of the Rings - though he'd meant to read it many times - and so her using LotR as an example wasn't particularly helpful for Matthew. He made a mental note to read it soon and nodded along before he spoke again. It was possibly true that some series grew up with the audience, though one series he actually hated came to mind almost immediately. The Twilight series had definitely not grown up with the audience and no one could convince him otherwise. He had tried to read them, in all honesty, but they had bored him far too much for him to get past the second chapter. It was thankful he'd only borrowed the first one from the library, really. He could never have forgiven himself if he'd actually bought them...

As she laughed during his rambling, Matthew frowned in questioning. His unasked question was answered quickly, and he gave a hint of a smile. He couldn't imagine anyone being confused by Harry Potter, but then again he'd always been around people who understood it or who were fans... She stated that she'd forgotten about the cat and Matthew smiled softly in amusement. He was silently glad that he couldn't forget things he read because, let's be honest, he wouldn't have been able to completely over-think the first and last books if he could forget things he read... That would probably save him as far as embarrassment, but it would also mean he wouldn't be able to take part in interesting, intelligent and somewhat engaging conversations about Harry Potter. The pros outweighed the cons. Definitely.

Matthew smiled gratefully as she said that it was fine. Well, when she put it like that - with the fact that it took her mind off of everything else that was happening - then Matthew found himself a little less embarrassed about it. She continued and Matthew bit his bottom lip softly. Was it wrong that he felt ever so slightly guilty about what she'd just said? He had, quite obviously, not fatally wounded her husband, but he still felt quite guilty about it. He said nothing, though, and merely nodded. This wasn't awkward. This wasn't awkward. Oh heck, who was he kidding? This was extremely awkward because it was silent. Fantastic.

She questioned him as to whether or not it was fine and Matthew glanced at her as he sipped his coffee. He wouldn't have- no, that's a lie, he would have said it was fine even if it wasn't. He wasn't very good at pointing out issues. He was terrible at it, actually. He hated the idea of pointing something out and possibly causing some kind of conflict. He probably shouldn't have found it so hard to point things out but it just happened and Matthew really couldn't change that. She spoke, though, and Matthew gave a hint of a shrug.

"It... It's fine..." He said softly, smiling a little. It was a little cold but hey, he'd been out in the freezing weather with it. It would be getting cold... He was also talking way too much to drink it, which was probably no surprise given that he'd just rambled about Harry Potter. At her offer, Matthew looked a little uncertain. While he really didn't want her to worry about him and his coffee, because it really wasn't something that needed worrying about, Matthew didn't want to see ungrateful by turning her offer down...

"I... Um..." Matthew looked at his coffee and looked at her again a moment later. "Thank you, for the offer, but it's okay... Maybe another day?" He suggested, raising his eyebrows a little in the hope she would agree to what he suggested. At least that way, she would know that he was completely open to it and he didn't feel quite as bad about saying no.

He was way too much of a peacekeeper for it to be anything good...

((Notes: MATTHEW RAMBLED MORE WORDS THAN THIS POST HAS ENTIRELY. 717 words.))

[Amelia Raven Blake]

Amelia nodded and smiled only slightly. She glanced away for a moment, sighing and swallowing slightly, looking down at her lap feeling the all too familiar sense of prickling in her eyes and the lump rising in her throat. She blinked rapidly, swallowing hard and closing her eyes. She hated this feeling of depression, it was worse then ever before, the silence killed all joy she'd had for those moments. It wasn't his fault and she didn't blame him. Amelia believed that it was her fault.

She sighed shakily. She could still hear Sullivan's words in her ear. "You're weak, Amelia, that's why all of this happened, because you're a weak little girl. That's what you'll always be no matter what." She bit her lip, she'd believed him. She never stopped believing him. Even with John she had believed every word Sullivan had ever told her.

She could still remember all those times...and all that'd he'd ever said...

FLASHBACK

She didn't meet his eyes, she couldn't, she didn't want to see the anger there. She sighed, wetting her lips but she didn't speak, he hadn't told her to, there was just a heavy silence in the room and she longed to break it with words of apology, but she knew he wouldn't take it. She didn't understand why he wouldn't, she really was sorry. Wasn't she?

"Dammit Amelia!" he snapped, his hands latched onto her shoulders and he shook her angrily. He forced her to look at him, his alcohol smelling breath hitting her in the face and she struggled to look away. "Don't you understand? No one could ever love you!"

The blonde winced. She hated when he went off drinking with his friends, the ones that loved to threaten her. He always came home, she didn't hate that he actually came home, she hated what he'd do when he came home. Torture. Mostly with words, but sometimes he'd hit her. Did Amelia care? No, not really...and if she did care she didn't care enough. She believed that he liked - if not loved - her. She was still very much a young naive little girl, she'd lost her parents at a vital age and had no guidance except for the guidance of the nicer street rats, as they were called.

Sullivan had been one of them. He still was...sometimes. She didn't leave him, she had no where else to go and even if she did she still believed he was the same Sullivan who saved her life in the alley after she'd stolen his friend's wallet. She had only stolen it so she'd have money to eat a decent meal, not for drugs as must of the other "street scum" stole for.

"You're a stupid little girl, Amelia, that's what you are! Do you hear me?" Sullivan growled, his eyes piercing her soul and when she didn't answer his hand was a streak through the air before his palm connected with her cheek. The sudden sting brought tears to her eyes, but she wasn't allowed to cry, Sullivan saw it as a weakness so she didn't, instead she just very faintly nodded to show that she had heard him, his hand print leaving a red mark on her cheek and she could feel the heat radiating from it.

She thought it would end then, the pain but Sullivan was angry...and drunk. His fist came down, hitting her in the stomach and she lurched forward and that just made him angrier. Before she knew it her whole body was on fire and there were tears running down her cheeks but even those stung on the way down. She didn't yell out in pain, she just took it, silent tears the only feeling that she showed except for the occasional wince. Again and again his fists, his feet, connected with her sixteen year old body.

She passed out in the end.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon when she opened her eyes, or tried to. One was swollen shut and the other she could hardly open but she managed. She tried to move from the curled ball she'd moved into but it hurt just to move a muscle and she bit her lip hard to keep herself from yelping. She lay there for a bit longer, she didn't know what to do, even a tiny movement hurt.

When she finally took a deep shuddering breath and managed to move herself from the position she'd no doubt been in for the last few hours, she grabbed the edge of the bed and managed to pull herself to her feet. She stumbled to the door and pushed it closer, the house was too quiet for Sullivan to be home. The wooden door clicked gently shut and she, with the help of the wall, made her way to the full length mirror.

Leaning slightly against the dresser, she looked into the mirror, grimacing at her appearance. Her hair was bedraggled and matted strands hung around her face. Her lip was split, dried blood had crusted on her lower lip, chin and cheeks. Her nose was probably broken judging by the crookedness of it. She closed her eyes, she didn't want to see the purple inflamed skin around her right eye.

At length she reopened her eye, stiffly peeling off her once white shirt to inspect the rest of the damage. She guessed several ribs were broken, it was hard to breathe and she could only hope that they hadn't punctured anything important. Bruises covered the length of her body and she bit back tears of pain as she struggled to turn the mirror towards the wall.

It was hard enough feeling the pain, she didn't want to see what he'd done.

END FLASHBACK

[/center]

Amelia tore herself from the past when Matthew spoke again. She glanced at him, giving a slight smile as she listened. She nodded, "Sounds like a plan." She smiled faintly at him, brushing the hair away from her face and in doing so exposing a twisted red scar across the side of her neck.

Suicide attempt number one. [/blockquote][/color]

[Matthew Reid]

Hearing her sigh, Matthew bit his bottom lip softly. He wanted to say something at that point, though he had no idea what to say and, for all he knew, she wasn't interested in what he had to say at all. But then why would she have said it before? Because she wanted to be polite. Thanks paranoia, just what was needed. Matthew glanced at her as she sighed again and chewed on his bottom lip a little more. In all honest, he couldn't actually believe that someone like Amelia - who seemed to be intelligent, funny and rather pretty, which he noticed even though Matthew was more interested in being friends with her and helping her than anything else - would even be interested in talking to Matthew. Then again, Matthew had always been the slightly weird kid who read far too many books and barely conversed with other people... Especially in school. Matthew was a natural escapist who usually tried to get as far away from reality as possible while also having a job that dragged him back to reality with everything that was wrong with it all...

After he'd spoken again, with the suggestion, and smiled back at her with a nod. She didn't seem offended or insulted. Thank goodness for that. Matthew would have hated to insult or offend her. With the smile remaining on his lips as he took another sip of his coffee, the doctor looked around before glancing at her. He noticed the red scar and frowned softly with concern while bringing the polystyrene away from his lips. He swallowed his mouthful of coffee and considered not saying anything, though he was too worried about what had caused her to get a scar on her neck to remain silent. Swallowing again to kill any nerves about whether or not she would be annoyed at his next words, Matthew looked away from her and down at his coffee instead.

"Um... What..." Matthew cleared his throat, finding it rather difficult to speak now that he was actually trying to. Damn it throat! "What happened with...?" He trailed off, glancing at her again and indicating vaguely to the scar. He bit his bottom lip before adding hurriedly: "If you don't mind my asking, I mean. I-It-... Y-You don't have to answer." His gaze turned back to his coffee and he sipped at it, his cheeks once again burning red with slight embarrassment as he tried to just focus on the coffee and not the feeling that had settled. He had probably upset her, or annoyed her, or angered her, or she'd had enough of him. Oh god, what if she thought he was an asshole. Was he an asshole? Matthew didn't think so - though even he had his moments - but first impressions weren't always the same as what someone was actually like.

Oh Christ, what if she wanted to hit him? He doubted it, as it seemed highly illogical given how she seemed to be, but the over-thinking part of his brain considered it an option. He really didn't want to get hit... If she punched him in the face then it was likely she'd break her knuckle and that would hurt her. It would hurt him too, because bone colliding with bone would never be a pleasant feeling, but she'd probably break something... Let her not hit him with her fist, if at all. The fleshy, heel of the palm was good for hitting. Matthew knew that. If she was going to hit him, then he hoped it would be with that part of her hand. Of course, he could have just been panicking over nothing at all. That was the most likely option here, really...

"I..." He tried to begin, though found that the words that had previously been ready slipped away before he could say them. Matthew took a deep breath and, while still looking at his cup, tried again. "Sorry if I seem nosy or... Or if it's a sensitive matter..." That was stupid. It was a scar. Of course it was a sensitive matter. "I... I mean... Um... If it... If you di-didn't want to, um, say anything..." It was beginning to get metaphorically painful. Matthew could feel himself cringing a little at his own words as he chewed on his bottom lip again. "Sorry..." He mumbled, deciding that was the best thing to say while he continued to look at his cup, determined not to bring his gaze away from it. Determined to remain focused on his cup as uncertainty squirmed its way through his stomach, tying it in knots of nerves before the uncertainty moved to his head and produced far too many thoughts of panicked worry for it to be anything could. He was sure he could feel himself beginning to have a panic attack, too. No. Not good. No thank you.

Think of the coffee. No! The snow! Think of the snow. It's nice... Well, it's ice particles in tiny forms of unique shapes which fell from the clouds as water was frozen by the freezing temperatures, though it would have to be four degrees for the snow to fall.

He was probably going to be fine.

[Amelia Raven Blake]

When he questioned about her scar she bit her lip, chewing at it. She didn't want to tell him, she didn't want to know what he'd think of her if she told him. William was the only one that knew about it other then herself. She hadn't visited Jim because of it. She didn't want him to see how far she'd fallen. What would he think of her? There was no use lying and telling him that it was nothing. Lying never got anyone anywhere, besides Amelia didn't care much about anything anymore, so why just look him in the eyes and tell him exactly what she had done? But despite that she couldn't. She couldn't just blurt out that she'd placed a knife to her throat and her son had walked in as she'd been doing it. It hurt remembering.

She still hadn't answered, she didn't know how. She moved her hand to her neck, brushing the tips of her fingers against the nasty scar. She sighed, her breath floating away in a spiral, careless and free. She looked at the ground, shivering slightly as the jacket she'd forgotten she'd been wearing fell off her shoulders again. She moved it just a bit closer around her, but it fell again when she ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath once more. She didn't know what to say, when usually full of the right thing to say, she was now lost for a simple explanation of a stupid scar. But then the explanation wasn't exactly simple, anything that involved thoughts of suicide was never simple.

"...I..uh..." she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and she swallowed the coppery liquid. "Mr. Reid...promise me you won't think any less of me then you already do?" She glanced over at him, her eyes sad and slightly pleading. She didn't want to loose the only person that had succeeded in making her feel better because of her stupid mistake. But then she also didn't want him to worry about her, she didn't deserve that. Not from someone like him. Someone so kind and caring. She certainty didn't believe she deserved the kindness he offered her. She would have to make sure that their paths would cross again so she could buy him that coffee. He at least deserved that for the torture he must have been going through by kneeling there and listening to her.

Amelia knew what John would have said if he was still alive. She knew that he would have snapped, from both sadness and anger. She knew that he wouldn't have tolerated it if she was harming herself. He was most likely rolling over in his grave. If he was watching, as Matthew had suggested earlier, he'd be throwing a fit. He would have given her a hard look and demanded that she never say it again. It would hurt him, like a blow to the heart. Amelia knew very well what would have happened had she done that when he was alive. But then he wasn't alive and he wasn't there to stop her.

The blonde slowly gave a shake of her head. "Honestly Mr. Reid," she glanced at him, "you don't have to worry about that...it's fine...I don't mind telling...." she had meant to say the next words in her mind but they came out, "it's not like it'll actually matter if the next time it kills me." Truth be told, Amelia didn't even know she'd said it out loud. She wouldn't know until he made a comment to it. Instead she just sighed, looked down for a moment, collected herself and looked back at him. "I..I..er...took a knife to my throat and tried to kill myself." She winced as she said it, wishing she could take it back. But it was out in the open now.

"I'm sorry...I..uh..I shouldn't have said...I don't want anyone to worry about me...I'm not worth it..." she frowned down at the snow, not even stopping to admire the beauty of the snowflakes as she once would have done had John and Alyss still been alive.

She just didn't care anymore.