19th December 1889 — Hogsmeade Hospital Atrium
Ari Fisk

This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not at this event. The sound of panic filled Ben's ears along with the pounding of his own heart. He had been on his way to meet Ari for lunch when the peaceful, normal hum of the Ministry atrium exploded into absolute mayhem. Bodies flooded past him as Ben pushed against the flow of traffic, attempting to locate the source of trouble.

At most, he thought perhaps a dark wizard at the top of their hit-list had been so stupid as to appear in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. With his wand drawn, Ben made his way through the atrium, ushering people away from whatever the commotion was as he went. Best get them out of the way to reduce the minimum amount of casualties possible. The crowd had started to thin out - a sign that told Ben he was getting closer to the source. As he drew closer, he realized he was not seeing the normal signs of a struggle. No spells ricocheting off of the walls threatening to hit innocent bystanders, no shouts of offensive and defensive spells...

"What in the name of Merlin -" Ben skidded to a halt, not believing his eyes. He wouldn't if he didn't see people he knew and recognized attempting to fend them off. "Brains?!"

They were lumpy things, pearly white and had long tendrils of...something wrapped around their chosen targets. Ben's eyes darted around - there were at least a half a dozen of them, and it was hard to tell who was in need of the most help. In all his years at the Ministry, he'd never seen something of this magnitude. He'd worked with half manticore half horses, dragons, even a swarm of angry nifflers, but never...brains.

A scream tore through his thoughts, too anguished to ignore. One of the Welcome Witches had been attacked and was clawing desperately to get it off of her body. It took Ben less than two strides to get to her. He'd thought to attempt to wrench it off her - a stupid idea he'd realize in retrospect - however he didn't get so far as to reach out a hand before it seemed to sense his intention and immediately launched itself at him.

Ben's reflexes were mercifully up to date and so he managed to avoid the brain - or so he thought. He realized he didn't when he felt a vise-like grip on his leg. Looking down, he saw tentacle-like things wrapped around his right leg. Pointing his wand at the brain, he shouted, "Diffindo!"

He roared in pain as the brain somehow dodged the spell which hit him instead, gouging a deep cut in his calf. Ben looked around, feeling the desperation that was permeating the crowd. What were these things and what the hell were they doing in the Atrium? He rose his wand again, not even thinking about what spell to use - just thinking about whatever spell would come to his mind when the Welcome Witch seized the brain. "No!" That wouldn't work. And clearly she knew it, for she recoiled immediately, but it was too late. She shrieked as the brain took hold of her arms like an octopus' tentacle, unfurling with definite strength. Despite his former warnings for her to not touch the brain, Ben lunged forwards. As soon as he saw the tentacles loosen their grip to move back to him, he pointed his wand at it.

"Levicorpus!"

With one tentacle half wrapped around the girl's arm and another half wrapped around his, Ben yelled in pain as the brain flew up, up and away, gripping onto both of them as much as it could, which saw the two lifted up off the ground. He worked quickly; later, he'd think that he'd prefer detaching Snargaluff pods than prying the tentacle off of her arm. She dropped immediately, thank Merlin - it couldn't have been more than a few feet. Ben, however was rising quickly as his spell carried the brain higher. When he finally detached the tentacle, his fingers cramping with the effort, he was at least a story and a half in the air. It was either cushion the blow for him, or blast the brain even further up and away from them...

Fuck.

"Depulso!"

His arm throbbed in pain as he tried to grip onto his wand as tightly as he could. Ben caught a glimpse of the brain shooting upwards before there was a sickening crunch as he took the weight of the fall. He roared in pain again, struggling to get to his feet. It was either get away or be a sitting duck. Exhaustion overcame him as he found himself hauled to his feet. It was a few seconds before he realized the Welcome Witch had managed to get him on his feet and towards the fires.

Ari. He had to get to Ari. Once he reached the fire, he escorted the witch first before stumbling into the hearth. Enunciating as clearly as he could, Ben shouted, "Hogsmeade Hospital!"

The world spun faster and faster. He tried to stay as still as possible, but his leg was nearly blinding him with pain. Mercifully he felt himself slow down and prayed the fireplace he stepped out of was the one that would lead him to Ari.

The feel of cool marble beneath him told him he'd arrived. Panicked voices and screams filled his ears yet again as he struggled not to give into the darkness that the pain was coaxing him into.

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Some things, apparently, never changed.

He had just had a message from downstairs that people were spilling into the waiting room from the Ministry, for some reason. In the time it took him to make the dash down a few flights of stairs, one of the mediwitches who had been on callout had filled him in on a few choice details. Some candle-lighting affair. The Ministry. Attacked by - brains.

It sounded as though St. Mungo’s was already bearing the brunt of it, but when Ari burst into the waiting room, his heart sank for a different reason.

They never bloody changed.

He’d gotten himself here upright, somehow, the idiot, but too bad; Ari gave him no warning before levitating him onto a stretcher (and swiftly contemplated adding a sticking charm to make him stay there). Wordlessly, he waved his wand again and floated Ben off down the hall along with him, scrutinising him head-to-toe with a glower.

“Lunch!” Ari hissed, when they’d finally come to a halt and he could roll up his sleeves ready to deal with - whatever Ben had done to himself now. “You promised me lunch and I get this?” He loved Ben, Merlin he did, but he had been dealing with this for, oh, give or take, twenty-four years, and so help him, this give-Ari-a-heart-attack game was getting pretty damned old.

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Thank Merlin, Ari was here. Though – oh dear, he did not look happy. Ben let out a shout of pain as he was levitated onto the stretcher and he did his best to shoot his lover a reproachful look. Before he could get another word in protest was when Ari's words hit him. Ben's eyes widened; it was a rare moment to see him like this. His stormy grey eyes flashed at Ben in a look that promised payback later that night when they were alone.

He blinked in surprise. While normally he'd be squirming, the unexpectedness of Ari's angry fussing left him speechless for once. And yet in retrospect, Ben would admit it rather turned him on in a way he couldn't quite explain...but for now, it just took him aback. So much so that the only thing that came to mind was to pass him an ear-splitting grin and toss a quip in for good measure. "I got here, didn't I?"

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Ari’s expression stayed stormy as he guided them into an unoccupied examination room, showing no sign of thawing at the joke Ben cracked - although the fact that he was evidently clear-headed enough to be wisecracking amidst the injuries gave Ari a small sting of relief in his chest. (Not that Benedict Sterling had ever learned his limits.)

“Getting to lunch with all your limbs intact and unbroken is usually implied,” he retorted crisply, gritting his teeth against the temptation to break down into saying something petulant and childish like I hate you that would betray all his fears at once. Ari had learnt a lesson himself, in having faced this scenario before: anger was a safer space to find himself than worry. Thank Merlin he’d gotten here, he had nearly thought, but worry was far harder to control, and seeped into all the cracks of his concentration, eroded all discipline. He could fuel anger better into action as a healer, he felt, as he pulled them to a halt and turned to inspecting Ben’s current physical state more closely. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he said impatiently.

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Yeaaappp he was mad. They'd known each other long enough, even with Ben's cluelessness all these years, that he knew how to recognize when Ari's truly irritated face. And yet, even though he knew Ari was on the verge of having a conniption, there was still some part of him that was comforted by this mood he'd gotten Ari into. Not because he wanted to torture him (Merlin knew he'd be willing to stake his life that he'd given Ari enough torture for his life) but because some part of him was comforted by the fact that he knew Ari felt he could show this side of him. It meant - at least to him - that Ari knew full well Ben would still be there after all was said and done. After all, wasn't that what Ari had done to him time and time again?

Though his expression softened to something resembling affection as he came to this realization, he still knew he owed Ari an explanation. The halt in the gurney was his cue to start talking lest the vein in Ari's forehead burst forth. "Right," he began, fighting the urge to fidget in his current position. He launched into a description of the night, affecting a bit more of a serious tone. Ari was a healer after all, and they needed to keep up appearances. If he kept any information from Ari because as his lover he didn't want him to worry, there could be something that Ari would miss and would get him in trouble.

By the time he'd finished recounting the morning to Ari, his face had lost all traces of humor. "And then I came here," he grunted, leaning upon his good arm to try and sit up. "Ari, there are brains loose in the Ministry." He held out his arm that had gotten attacked - purple bruises mottled the skin in raised, bumpy circles like a disease. "Brains with tentacles, Ari."

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Ben stopped his quips for long enough to get serious, and by the time he was finished Ari’s anger had evaporated slightly, the concern in his chest dulled to something - manageable. So he hoped.

“Anything life-threatening, and you just have to be in the thick of it,” Ari murmured quietly, sighing as he took Ben’s hand - well, wrist, in case anyone walked in - and bent over his arm to inspect the bruising. Of course Ben had tried to save people before getting out of there; it was what he’d done with the troll attack in the park years back, what he would do in any situation. It was part of his being such a good auror, part of his being such a good friend.

But if anything happened to him, Ari would never be able to forgive himself. Benedict Sterling had made himself something of Ari’s responsibility.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he admitted, with a furrowed brow and a hesitant shake of his head. “I -” He trailed off helplessly. Brains. No wonder this was a Department of Mysteries calamity; nowhere else in the Ministry would be investigating such things. It was not something Ari would have said to any other patient - he would have not wanted to damage anyone’s confidences - but not telling Ben the truth felt intolerable. There were strategies already reeling through his mind of how he might treat this, but it would take some consulting, and experimenting, and he would have to focus. Perhaps he would call Bax to consult on it, if Bax wasn’t overwhelmed by anyone else coming in.

The leg he could deal with - or at least the effects of the fall. If the damage from the tentacles was the same on his leg as it looked on his arm, Ari couldn’t be completely sure what side-effects might be yet to present themselves, how bad this really was. But he would do what he could, as long as he kept a clear head. Speaking of keeping a clear head... he gazed at Ben again, still worried. “How do you feel?”

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"It's not like I ask for it!" Ben protested, knowing very well that his track record would say the exact opposite. Trolls, amnesia, beasts and now brains... it wasn't as if he was getting old, but there was a thought in the back of Ben's mind that asked exactly how long he was going to be able to keep this up until he couldn't anymore. Prewett had resigned after he realized he was the sole parent of his kids; and had promptly come back after a while. Ben supposed perhaps it was in his nature to be in the thick of it, as Ari had said.

As Ari was inspecting his arm, Ben leaned back as he felt his adrenaline fading. He threw the uninjured arm over his eyes as the images of the afternoon's events flashed throughout his vision again. Ari hadn't seen anything like this and he wasn't a rookie healer. "No, I haven't seen anything like it either, and I work at the bloody Ministry as a dark wizard catcher for Merlin's sake." he responded. "I mean you'd think we'd be looped into something like this since we've got high-security clearance, but apparently not since we're not in the Unspeakable department, we're in the bloody auror department which apparently means nothing nowadays." He took a breath, his speech was getting faster, though he hardly realized it as he took his arm away from his face and sat up. "Since we were extremely unprepared for this, and I know it's not my fault or our fault, but the public isn't prepared and what does it look like that the Auror department wasn't prepared for something like this?"

He gazed back at Ari, his pupils wide as he blinked rapidly. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

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“No, I s’pose not,” Ari agreed with a sigh, the vestiges of his anger at Ben’s unwelcome entrance to the hospital today fully faded. Instead, it was Ben’s turn to rant; the disaster had caught him just as off-guard, and it was obviously a disconcerting experience for the both of them.

He hmmed along from time to time in agreement, nodding here and there as he scrutinised the injuries left by the tentacled brain-thing. Ben’s vexation was entirely understandable - the Aurors were supposed to protect people if nothing else, and to have another calamity happen on the Ministry’s own doorstep did not look good for anyone - but as he had said, it wasn’t in the least his fault. And Ari, presently, was a little more concerned by Ben’s rapidly rising heart rate. And his sudden feverishness.

“I know,” he said in a soothing tone, pressing the back of his hand to Ben’s forehead when he sat up in a fluster. “I know. I’m sure you did all you could,” Ari added, moving his hand to Ben’s shoulder to ease him backwards, so that he might address his most serious qualms at the current moment, which was frankly the physical state of him. He uncorked a heavy-stoppered vial and had it pour out a measure of light blue liquid. “But right now I need you to drink this,” he said firmly, holding out the calming draught so that he could focus on fixing him.

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At Ari's prompting, Ben slowly eased himself down onto the gurney, his eyes slightly wide as he did so. The sound of Ari's coaxing saw him try to slow his breathing too, however, the images lying in his recent memory seemed content to stay there and he settled for slightly shuddering breaths as he closed his eyes. At the sound of the cork unstoppering from the vial, Ben peeped an eye open again. His lips twitched downwards, and he was tempted to let out a petulant, 'But what if it tastes bad?'

Now was not the time for any such behavior, and he knew such an exclamation would immediately provoke the blazing look Ari had initially given him. That, and Ari had given him calming drought before which had - to his memory - not tasted horrible, so he relented and eased himself up. Immediately he was overcome with a serene feeling – his panic was still present, however, the sense of urgency had been quelled significantly, and he eased back down, watching Ari work.

With his panic subdued, he could focus a bit more clearly and remained quiet for a while before – after assuring himself that no one was likely to burst into the examination room – reaching up to catch Ari's hand in his. "I'm sorry," he muttered quietly, regarding Ari with a sober expression. "I don't mean to put you through all this stress."

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In spite of his concentration on the brain wounds, Ari sensed the almost-protest about the draught. But when he glanced up properly, Ben had drained it and settled down. Thank Merlin. Now all Ari had to do was stay calm too; breathe and get on with things.

Ben’s hand closing around his sent a spark of something bursting through his veins, and then a warmth near as good as any calming draught. Assured that they were alone for the moment, Ari threaded his fingers between Ben’s and didn’t let go for a while, grateful that at least he’d come and found him. It would be worse, truthfully, not being in the room with him, no matter what he’d done.

“You can’t say I wasn’t warned along the way, hm?” Ari remarked wryly, his expression soft. Where to even begin, in selecting an example? There were too many things to choose from, between auror injuries, horse-riding scrapes, trolls and broom crashes, sprained ankles and bleeding hands. For as long as they’d been friends. Longer, really; he hadn’t forgotten their Hogwarts days.

Still, in spite of how he’d reacted earlier, all that stress was as bearable now as it was bad. “I knew what I was getting into.” He pulled Ben’s hand upwards ever so briefly to kiss it, and then forced himself to concentrate. “I have to say that the scrapes you’re getting into are getting more creative by the day,” he teased, wincing still at the marks the brains had left. “Keeps me on my toes.”

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"I think any sane person would argue that I never really gave you any choice in the matter, did I?" he replied wryly, chuckling. And of course he never really did -- it was always Ben running to Ari at the most inopportune moment shouting for him to come help. And Ari always appeared. He was always there.

He knew the toll that it must take on Ari to be keeping so many secrets all around: that Elliot wasn't his biological son, that he and Ben were seeing each other behind Dionisia's back, that Dionisia and Ari didn't exactly "love" each other....that he and Ben did....

As Ari pulled his hand up and pressed it to his lips, Ben squeezed it, smiling affectionately at him. Oh, don't let go... He wanted to keep Ari's hand in his forever, but as they were in the process of healing Ben, Ari had to get his hand back at some point. "Creative is one word for it." He responded, looking down at the marks the tentacles had left on him. "You might not believe me but I really wish they'd stop finding me." He winced as he raised his forearm slightly, peering at the marks more intently. "After all, I'm the one who has to explain my extreme stupidity to those who see them and ask!"

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The squeeze of his hand from a calmed, now-slightly-drugged Ben did wonders nonetheless, and when Ari extracted his hand again it was with renewed focus, and he moved away to select the most promising thick paste to try on the scarring.

A fleeting sympathetic smile crossed his face at Ben lamenting about his own stupidity. It was not stupidity, and Ari knew it well: it was because he would never stop charging into danger to help people. Be it flooding or fire, mountain trolls or flying brains, there he would be.

“Well, you never know,” Ari said with burgeoning optimism, not believing it a jot even as he said it, “this might be the last one.” The last scrape that ever found Ben? Unlikely.

But at least at this rate Ari would never be out of a job.

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