Around 6PM, March 9th, 1891 — Alfred's Flat, London

Alfred had been sitting alone in his room for hours, and he'd long since run out of things to distract himself from his thoughts. He'd opened the window in his room thrice to knock the pile of snow accumulating there down, so that he could keep an eye on the weather. It didn't seem to be letting up, so it was unlikely the floo would be back online any time soon. If they were trying to get things restored at the Ministry, a low-rent flat in a random London neighborhood was hardly going to be at the top of their priority list. Jo was going to be here through dinner, then. Maybe overnight. He wasn't sure where he ought to ask her to sleep. It would have been inhospitable to ask her to stay on the couch in the front room, wouldn't it? But inviting her into his bed seemed far too intimate for their new reality, even if he stayed out in the parlor on the sofa all night. There was Bilton's room, too, which seemed like the most viable option. It was unlikely that Bilton would be able to make it home today, if he wasn't home already, so the chances that he would wander in in the middle of the night and find a strange woman in his bed were fairly low. It was still a fairly weird thing to do, but Alfred wasn't sure he had better options.

Before they got to that, though, they needed to get through dinner. He wasn't looking forward to having to talk with her again, wading through that sea of awkwardness and tension and hurt, but he couldn't stay in his room forever. He'd skipped lunch to try and get preparations on the Voyager done faster, and his stomach was starting to grumble angrily.

He'd stripped down to just a shirt and pants and was sitting on the floor in his room, using tribal magic to light and extinguish a small flame in the palm of his hand. He was trying to find a balance between letting his room get too cold to be comfortable and burning his fingers while trying to hold it; the spell was intended to start fires with kindling, not to be contained like this, so it wasn't exactly friendly to his skin. It would have been easier to have gone back to the parlor, where the fireplace was still lit, but that would mean facing Jo again. Even retrieving a blanket, which normally provided all the warmth his room needed during the winter months, would mean going back to the parlor for a few moments.

Eventually he lost the will to stay there, hungry and cold, even if the alternative was wading back into that tension and grief from earlier. He wasn't entirely sure if Jo would still be there, even though he'd been keeping an ear open for any sign of her leaving. He walked down the hall tentatively, nearly on his tiptoes, and breathed a sigh of relief when he found her still in the chair.

"Hey," he said, determined to at least not start off as awkwardly as they'd ended things before. "Hungry?"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

Jo attempted the floo thrice over the course of four hours. She gave different Hogsmeade addresses each time, hoping that since those floos likely remained online the chances of her leaving would be greater, and each time she remained trapped in Alfred's flat. Each time her resolve not to walk out through the front door died a little bit more. Being so close to him without being able to share even the most basic details about their lives was even more heartbreaking than their tense conversation had been.

She wasn't even gone yet and she already missed him.

The letter was stealthily retrieved an hour into the waiting. Cautiously, Jo felt for the thicker map and unfurled it to pocket the letter before replacing the map to the top of the pile. If their relationship was always going to be this way, then he wouldn't even want to read it, she surmised. He wouldn't want to know what he meant to her or have a way to reach her in the future. That was it, they were done.

Her body tensed when she heard him in the hall. It was his flat, she reminded herself, he could move about as he wished. Still, she had hoped he wouldn't approach her again at all, had thought to leave their goodbye as what it was and go.

"Sure," she answered, surprising herself with her agreement. Her stomach felt like it was wound in tight knots and her throat was dry. Jo doubted she would be able to eat much at all. "Need help prepping something?"

  

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Alfred was surprised at the offer. He hadn't expected Jo to want to spend any more time with him than necessary. They could have just exchanged a few words, he could have cooked, and then both retreated to their separate rooms to eat it. Not that he wanted to go back to his bedroom, particularly — it was noticeably warmer here, with the fire — but neither did he want a repeat of their tense conversation earlier.

Maybe she was feeling as restless as he was, Alfred considered. Maybe she'd offered because having something to do with her hands would help keep her mind off all the things they weren't saying. He could sympathize with that.

"If you like," he answered with a shrug. "I'm not much of a cook, to be honest," he admitted. He'd learned in South America, but that was very different from using a stove. "So you'd probably improve it."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

She very nearly laughed. Neither of them were talented chefs, it seemed, as Jo's only experience was with basic English dishes combined with random spices brought home with her from abroad. The laugh died in her throat, though, for it was too eerily like their old selves that she immediately glanced towards the door instead. She shouldn't have agreed or offered. She should have left hours ago.

Fuck.

"Doubtful," she replied a touch late. She didn't know how to respond now. A joke wouldn't be proper and a light comment about how they could simply drink instead would only fall flat. "What were you planning to make?" She asked instead, looking towards a spot besides his head rather than at him.

  

His mouth twitched towards a smile at that, because it seemed like it was almost a joke. Neither of them would have had much reason to learn how to cook growing up, he imagined, so Jo's skills in that area might be similar to his own.

"I'd do better on a bonfire," he admitted. "But, uh — I've got some cod I can cook. And some vegetables of questionable quality," he added with a shrug. He was in the habit of picking up fresh things for dinner at the nearest market every few days, but obviously that wasn't going to be an option now, which meant they were stuck with whatever was left in the ice box. Alfred wandered to the kitchen to investigate and came up with a bag of carrots and another of potatoes that looked fresh enough. "Can you cut some of these up?" he asked (a genuine question; he wasn't sure how her hands were at holding knives steady these days).

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Yeah, I should be able to manage alright." Her cheeks flushed with mild embarrassment at the reminder of her hand. More than that, she would be required to take off her gloves to cook, which would leave it exposed to his gaze for the first time. Zach loved her most passionately and even he had flinched at the sight of it. Even he had referred to it as barbaric. Alfred held no such loyalties to her anymore, leaving her to begin to spiral with panicked thoughts.

This was a bad idea.

However, she couldn't just rescind her offer and sit back in the chair, not without at least a questioning look from him. The only option remaining to her was to slice the vegetables in silence and pray he didn't comment upon her injury.

Jo reached for the carrots and potatoes and turned to face the cabinets before removing her gloves. After being handed a knife she looked to him and asked, "how small do you want the pieces?"

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred noticed how careful she was to put her hands out of his field of vision before she took off her gloves, so he made a point of looking away. He retrieved two of the fish from the icebox before handing the knife over to her, keeping one for himself to handle the fish. There was a pan of oil still on the stove from breakfast, and he lit the flame beneath it with a gesture and a muttered word.

"Uh — bite sized?" he asked, glancing over in her direction (but pointedly not at her hands). "Whatever you want is fine. Not trying to get fancy here," he joked lightly.

He could tell even without looking right at them that her hands were paler now than he'd remembered them. She must have worn those gloves all the time. Alfred chewed his lower lip for a moment, considering. "Does it still hurt?" he asked after a moment, his concern getting the better of him even though he knew he had no right to ask. "I can take over, if it's not comfortable."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

She didn't trust herself to respond to his joke. Friends joked and laughed and enjoyed one another's company. Sharing dinner with him wasn't meant to be something she enjoyed, but a means of survival. It was cut the vegetables or starve until the storm subsided enough for her to head home. (Not that she truly believed Alfred would allow her to starve if she refused to help, but it was more of the principle than anything else.)

Instead, Jo did as instructed, her hands moving slower than he might've appreciated. She was, however, reluctant to accidentally cut herself due to her being careless with the knife. Then, he really would have to talk to and engage with her to stem the bleeding — likely using the same spell they'd practiced in December — and very few things would've broken her more than that. The cut carrots formed a pile on the side of where she was cutting, their sizes ranging from chunks to slices.

Nothing fancy.

Jo supposed she couldn't blame him for asking, she would have too were the situation reversed. The quiet ask did cause her to pause mid-movement, though, and she stared down at the offending hand. "Yeah, it does." She stated quietly. "I'm fine, though. You learn to live with it after awhile."

  

You can live with anything after a while Alfred thought, but didn't say. It was something he’d been told, but it was a hard thing to believe sometimes, and not a particularly helpful sentiment. He shifted his attention back to the stove and put a pot of water on the other side for the vegetables.

"You going to keep learning wandless magic?" he asked, but immediately regretted it. He certainly wasn't going to be teaching her, was he?

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

What was the purpose of these questions, she wondered. If it was always going to be this way, if they were never going to see one another again or write another letter or anything, then what did it matter what she did or if she was in pain? She bit back a sigh and forced her hands to move again.

Even with moving, she still didn't know how to answer his question. A simple yes would have sufficed, but it felt too curt. Rude, almost. As if she didn't want to talk (she didn't really). She could tell him she had been practicing it since the first spell taught to her in December and how she was able to accomplish basic tasks now with it. She could tell him she had a thought of going to find a tribal master to teach her. None felt right, though, for she couldn't reconcile why he had asked at all.

"Does it make a difference?" She asked before realizing what exactly had slipped past.

  

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beautiful set by mj

Alfred supposed he'd deserved a question like that, poking at their mutual wounds like he had been, but it stung all the same. Being so blatantly reminded that he didn't have any further rights to know about her, or her life, and that he never would again, was painful.

"No," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the stove, waiting for the oil to sizzle or the water to start boiling. "No, it doesn't. Sorry I asked."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

In the seconds that spanned the distance between her ask and his answer Jo's slicing had become aggressive. Her careful maneuvering forgotten as her body prepared for the physical blow he was set to deliver. The slices became narrower, almost like a skim of the carrot as opposed to a bite sized chunk she was meant to cut. Her plans made no difference, and hearing him confirm it so casually caused the knife to slice through the tip of her finger.

She dropped the knife besides the carrot and hissed in pain. "Damn it." She muttered, looking about for something to use to slow the bleeding. Her finger tip was still attached, but only just so. "Fuck."

  

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beautiful set by mj

The way that she exhaled and swore was familiar, and he knew at once what had happened. This was hardly the first time he'd been around someone who'd gotten too lazy with a knife, but he thought in this case it was more his fault than hers. She probably wasn't actually up for helping, and he should have refused her offer and just done it himself. Now she was hurt.

"Here," he said softly, moving towards her and reaching his hand out for hers. "Let me see."

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

The only positive of this circumstance was that it was the tip of her left index finger that was injured. Her grotesque injury wouldn't be featured front and center, at least. Having him help and touch her left a sour taste in her mouth, though. Again, she thought to press him on why it mattered. Why bother healing her when he had already decided not to care?

Blood dripped down the side of her hand and onto the sleeve of her dress. "Do me a favor," she said as she spotted a towel (dirty, but a towel nevertheless) and pressed it to her wound. Her tolerance for the pain and grief the past week had left her with had now all but eliminated her patience. "Stop acting like you care, okay? I'm fine, I've obviously suffered worse -" she waved her right hand up and quickly dropped it back to her side, "- and can fix it myself. You don't care that I'm leaving and not coming back. You don't care whether or not I learn wandless magic. The only thing you care about is whether or not I'm alive, which is just fucking perfect. " She was exploding, her frustration and grief pouring from her without caution. "So just stop, alright? Just fucking stop."

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   J. Alfred Darrow

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beautiful set by mj

He hadn't exactly been expecting her to be thrilled about this turn of events, but he certainly hadn't expected the explosion that followed. Alfred's brow knit in confusion. Obviously she couldn't really mean that. Obviously he cared. The problem was that he cared too much for them to just carry on as they had been before — and maybe from her perspective, it might be a problem too that he didn't care enough to have agreed to leave with her, on Thursday.

"Well, what did you want?" he asked tensely. That was maybe the wrong question, though, because he might have already known, and it wouldn't do either of them any good to say it aloud. Maybe a better question was: "What were you expecting? I'm getting married!"

  

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MJ made the most Alfredy of sets and then two years later she made it EVEN BETTER

"Obviously, you're fucking getting married! And I'm happy that you are. Congratulations." She snapped back, insulted that he thought that to be the cause of why she was upset. And, in a sense, perhaps it was, but not because he was getting married. Not because he found a way to compromise and move forward and settle. No, Jo was beyond happy for him to have decided upon that life. She just wished she could have found it within herself to make the same choice.

The towel was gripped tightly to her hand, the only saving grace from her waving her hands about in growing frustration. "I didn't expect you to sail off into the sunset with me. Don't want that, either, to be perfectly clear. All I wanted - all I wanted was my friend, the same friend who promised me nothing would change." Even then Jo knew him to be lying. She just wished she hadn't bought into it. "But it was always going to be this way, right? I was always not going to matter to you anymore. So, do us both a favor and just stop acting like you care now."

  

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beautiful set by mj