They end up going to get poutine for lunch. Carey grumbles about it in that cranky way he has, pointing out to PK that it's not like they need to eat more fatty food. PK just rolls his eyes and says, "Go with it, Carey, it could be worse."

"I don't see how," Carey says, but he follows PK into the restaurant.

"I used to go to this poutine place with my dad," PK says as they sit down. They've both charmed their wands not to be visible, since this is a Muggle place, but PK has a lot of practice talking about his childhood in ways that won't make Muggles suspicious. "It was Toronto, so it wasn't a thing like it is here, but it was still so good."

Carey's mouth twists on a half-smile. "So you're doing with me what you did with your dad?"

"You make it sound bad," PK says. "It's, you know, an honor."

"Sure," Carey says. "That's believable."

"Hey."

"I'm kidding," Carey says. "Relax."

PK can't help but frown a little, unsure of where Carey's going with all this. But finally he says, "Anyway, I was just craving poutine."

"And we're taking a day off."

Carey says it like he's reminding himself, which PK guesses he really might be. "Right," PK says. "A day off."

Silence falls heavily between them.

PK's gotten the vibe, in the past, that talking about Carey's past was somehow verboten. But he can't think of anything to say, and Carey's just kind of staring at the table like it's committed a crime, so PK finds himself saying, "How'd you get into being an Auror?"

Carey looks surprised, but PK isn't going to let himself be embarrassed. That's the kind of basic thing you should know about your partner, anyway, long before you end up working with him regularly.

"My mom," Carey says finally.

PK waits, but Carey doesn't say anything else. If PK thinks about it too hard, he'll get sad about how much Carey's trained himself not to trust people, even his own partners - so he doesn't think about it. Instead, he says, "Cool. Oh, look, it's our food."

"Hooray," Carey says dryly.

PK makes a face at him, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he digs into his poutine.

Their silence, he thinks, could probably even be called companionable. Carey doesn't seem to mind it, anyway. They eat and drink and just kind of hang out, and PK's mind finally starts drifting away from Auror business as he gets to the bottom of his plate. He takes a sip of wine and says, "We should go skating."

Carey blinks. "Skating?"

"Sure. That thing we do, on ice?"

"I know what skating is."

"There are tons of places," PK says. "We could just pick one. Come on, you know you want to."

He doesn't miss how hesitant Carey looks. That makes it better when Carey says, "If you want to, I guess, sure."

"Awesome," PK says. "This will be great."

"If you say so."

They pay and then leave, ducking into an alley so PK can cast a locator spell. There's a Wizarding rink just a few blocks away, so they Apparate there.

Everyone else has their own skates. PK's are at home, though, and he doesn't want to go back to his own home right now - even if he didn't think going home would break the little spell he and Carey have going on right now.

So they rent skates. Carey laughs at PK when PK stumbles out of the gate. PK says, "Hey, it's been awhile."

"Obviously," Carey says, skating backwards.

His smile is wide and PK wants to see more of it. The feeling cuts at him keenly.

"Oh, it's on," he says, and skates past Carey, laughing.

They goof off for a couple hours. Being Canadian, they could've spent way longer than that on the ice, but after awhile they get sweaty and gross and tired of playfully duelling. Well, that's what PK tells himself, anyway. The truth is more that when they collapse to the ice in a heap, after PK's bat-booger hex goes wild, Carey rolls away from him and says, "We should go. We're meeting Caro in less than a day, I want to have plenty of sleep for that."

PK's kind of disappointed, and also he's not sure what Carey means, since it's not even four. But he gets up and follows Carey off the ice.

"Where to now?" he says as they walk out into the light. Since it's the end of summer, it's still plenty light enough.

Carey squints against the setting sun and says, "Why don't we go back to my place?"

"Sure," PK says. "Sure you'll be able to not think about it? We have an agreement."

"I know," Carey says. "And - yes."

"Okay," PK says. He's definitely not going to argue. "Let's go, then."

He realizes he's missed something when they appear in Carey's apartment and Carey kisses him while PK's ears are still echoing with the crack of Apparation.

"Whoa," he says when Carey pulls away.

Carey scowls.

"Good whoa," PK says. "I...you know, never mind." Gift horses and mouths, he reminds himself, and grabs Carey to kiss him again.

They fuck in the living room, Carey riding PK on the couch. PK clings to Carey's thighs and kisses him through it, trying to forget that the key is concealed here, and that Carey doesn't want to know that.

He doesn't quite succeed, though. When they're cleaned up and flipping through takeout options together, Carey says, "I didn't realize you were this bad at keeping secrets."

"Hey."

"Don't tell me," Carey says. "I really, really don't want to know. But you should know that I suspect. If things go south."

"Carey." PK turns to him. Carey licks his lips, which - PK's not sure if he's being distracting on purpose. Probably. "Stop worrying," PK says, forcing his mind back to G-rated things. "You're so bad at this."

"I'm great at plenty of things."

"Not at relaxing, apparently."

Carey scowls. PK is mildly alarmed by how cute he finds it.

"We should get Chinese," he says, turning away before he initiates another round of marathon sex. Not that that wouldn't be great, but he really is hungry.

"Fine by me," Carey says.

They order in and then watch Muggle TV. Carey likes dumb comedy, way more than PK would've thought. He laughs at all the bits that are supposed to be funny and throws PK grins when PK laughs with him.

It's nice. PK tries not to think about how this kind of comfort has an expiration date, and jostles Carey when he cracks lame jokes.

They clear up the Chinese and their beer bottles, PK floating the bulk of the mess out to the kitchen. He directs it into the trash, then looks up as Carey enters, carrying the leftovers.

"I'll put these in the fridge," Carey says.

PK nods. "Yeah, okay." He stands there, hyper-aware of how awkward things are, as Carey follows through on his statement.

Then it's just him and Carey, blinking at each other in the light of the kitchen. PK wants to reach out and touch Carey, kind of desperately, but he doesn't know if he's allowed to. Not without Carey protesting, anyway.

"So," PK says finally, when the silence gets unbearable. "We should go to bed, eh?"

"We should," Carey says.

There's a strong sense of inevitability when Carey steps forward and kisses PK. Or at least, that's how PK feels, because he could step back, but he doesn't. He could say 'stop,' but he doesn't. What he does do is kiss Carey back, curling one hand around the back of Carey's neck to hold him close.

"Come to bed," he says when Carey pulls away. He means it to sound casual, like it doesn't matter to him what Carey does, but he can tell by the flicker of Carey's eyelids and the way his hand on PK's arm tenses that it's anything but.

He could recover in any number of ways. He chooses to repeat himself, saying, "Come to bed." He doesn't even care how stupid he might sound.

"Yeah," Carey says, voice ragged. "Yeah, okay."

They go down the hall together. PK's never stopped mid-transit to kiss before, has never felt urgent enough to derail his walking for it. But he does it now, stopping twice to crowd Carey against the wall and kiss him. Carey's weirdly pliant, into it but letting PK direct things. PK's finding that he likes it, that he wants more of Carey. He wants to draw him out and make this matter, in a way it hasn't before.

Carey fucks him that night, PK spread out on the sheets and gripping a bit of the wall they turned into a headboard for the occasion. Carey touches him everywhere, big, calloused hands pressing into PK's skin and making him gasp and moan. PK tries to be free with the noises, knowing that will make Carey relax, and it works. After, Carey collapses on top of him and kisses his neck, his shoulders, curling around him protectively.

They fall asleep dirty like that, but when PK wakes up in the morning, he's clean. Carey must've pulled the early riser card, he thinks as he gets up. Thank Merlin for cleaning spells.

He goes out into the kitchen, yawning and scratching his stomach. There's a plate of eggs on the table, under a warming spell, but Carey's nowhere to be seen.

"Finite incantatem," PK says, pointing at the eggs with his wand. The spell dies, and he sits down to eat his meal.

He's not going to think about how things are with Carey; he knows that's a quick road to nowhere. Instead, he's going to eat his breakfast and focus on what they're going to report to Caro and Melissa that night.

When he goes back out to the living room after getting dressed, he casts a few spells to make sure he's alone and unobserved. It's mostly a formality, but he's still kind of surprised by the ease with which he casts them. Apparently, all the practice he got in the suburbs really matters.

The key is in a pocket behind a bookcase. PK draws it out and stares at it. There are any number of tracing spells he can cast, spells to reveal what elements cling to it from its previous environment, spells to get the image of the lock it was cast against. All of those are things he's probably going to do, because Martin is apparently a lot better at keeping things locked down than they'd previously thought. None of it is what he wants to do; he wants to apprehend Martin and demand to know what he's doing with Mortimer. But he's not stupid enough to think his and Carey's word against Martin's, plus who knows who else's in the department, would go over with the Canadian Royal Aurors.

The key is just as plain and boring as it was before. It's a little heavy, but not heavy enough to suggest any funny business. PK turns it over in his hand, sighing, before pocketing it. It's best if he carries it now, so that Carey doesn't see him getting it from the hiding place when they go to meet Caro.

Carey doesn't get back until almost three. He's not carrying anything, which PK's sort of weirdly grateful for; it means he doesn't feel the need to hide that he went out to get away from PK. "Hi," PK says.

His hand goes to his pocket before he thinks about it. Carey's eyes flick down, then back up at PK's face. "I hope you've bound it to you."

"Of course I have," PK says. "Anyway, if you're kidnapped and tortured between now and when we meet up with Caro, the game's up."

"How comforting."

"Sure," PK says. "I was going to make burritos for dinner. You want some?"

They end up eating gigantic burritos together, mostly composed of beans and meat because PK's predictable and kind of a lazy cook. Even if he's allowed to do all of it with magic now, which of course he wasn't when he was a teenager and it was his night to make dinner.

"How was your day?" PK says when the silence gets to be a bit much.

Carey blinks at him like he's spoken Spanish. "What?"

"How," PK says, licking a bit of salsa off his finger, "was your day?"

Carey's eyes flick down to PK's fingers, then back up to his face. "Fine," he says. "I just needed a breather, you know?"

"We do have to meet an old, cranky vampire tonight," PK says. "And explain to her how far we haven't gotten."

"Exactly."

Plus we keep sleeping together, PK doesn't say. He doesn't know if Caro will be able to pick up on that, and he doesn't really want to know. He'll deal with that if it actually happens.

"Should we dress up?" he says when Carey keeps staring at him.

"No," Carey says. "Well, we should wear robes." He shrugs. "Caro likes intimidating people, but she's not one to stand on ceremony."

PK nods. "Well, I'm done." He stands up and waves his wand, watching as his plate floats over to the sink. "Maybe she'll have advice about where to look for whatever that key fits into," he adds, and goes back to the guest room.

They Apparate together, right before ten, to the same bar. It's easy to find Caro this time; she's in the same spot as before, talking to a dazed-looking Muggle who PK is pretty sure is under thrall.

He really shouldn't approve, and he doesn't. But he's still grateful for her help.

"Melissa is at your safehouse," Caro says without preamble. "Do you need her?"

PK hesitates long enough that it's Carey who says, "She'd be of great help."

"Very well, then," Caro says. She snaps her fingers -

And they're standing in the safe house. PK can't help but gape.

Caro smirks a little. "We vampires have a few tricks of our own," she says. "Come. She should be in the living room."

Sure enough, Melissa is curled up in a large armchair. She's wearing loose pyjama pants and a light t-shirt, and PK can't help but think that she looks a lot more comfortable living with an old, possibly murderous vampire than PK himself ever could.

Then again, she's also sleeping with that old, possibly murderous vampire. PK can't pretend, even to himself, that he gets it.

"What have you accomplished?" Caro says.

That's kind of a weird way of putting it, PK thinks. But he says, "Well, we searched the offices."

"And found?"

"Who says we found anything?" Carey says before PK can respond.

Melissa looks amused. "Caro will know if you lie."

"We found this." PK pulls the key out. There's no point in playing power games; PK and Carey need their help.

"Ah," Melissa says. She takes out her wand and taps the key. It glows a coppery red. "Soaked in magic," she says. "Where did you find it?"

"An Eternity Pocket," PK says, "in Martin's office."

"You found an Eternity Pocket while doing a basic search?" Caro says.

"PK thought it would be smart." Carey sounds almost amused, though PK's not sure why. "And we are Aurors, Caro."

"I'm well aware," Caro says dryly. "Very well: a key in an Eternity Pocket. I'd wager my infinite years that it's meant to open something important. The question is, how do we find it?"

She addressed the question to Melissa, not PK and Carey. PK's vaguely offended, but Melissa doesn't appear to notice. "Good question," she says. "The answer is...complex."

"Oh?"

"It's not easy magic," Melissa says. "You can, of course, force a wand to show what spells it's cast - quite easily, in fact. There's hardly any magic that can disguise that. But an object only carries impressions. The more magical an object is, the more impressions it carries. But I imagine Martin knows this."

Most of that, PK knew from his Auror classes. He knows Melissa's expertise is probably a lot more than she's letting on, though. "So," he says. "How do we - I mean, what should we do?"

"Well, first we should see if we can get any useful impressions," Melissa says. She sets the key down on the coffee table. "There's no reason we can't at least try."

"And if Martin's booby-trapped it?" Carey says.

Melissa shoots him an acerbic look that doesn't match her relaxed posture at all. "You think that wouldn't have occurred to me?"

It's a good point. "Right," PK says. "Let's do it, then."

"Parādīties," Melissa says. PK's not sure what language she's speaking, even, but it doesn't matter; an image appears above the key, which starts glowing.

But it's just a dark hole with some red sparks darting through it. PK's pretty sure that's the Eternity Pocket. "That's it?"

"Of course not," Melissa says.

"Hush," Caro adds.

PK thinks he sees Melissa blush. But she just says, "Cofio."

Now the image is of a door. It's large, old, and heavy, set into what is, at the very least, a large hill. As they watch, a wolf slinks by. A hooded figure shuffles into view, and then sticks the key into the lock. The image goes dark, and the key stops glowing.

"Wolves," PK says. "Something tells me Martin hasn't been staying in Montreal."

"There are many places in Quebec with wolves," Caro says. "And places elsewhere with wolves, for that matter. What do your Aurors say about interprovincial crime?"

"It's difficult to track down," Carey says. "But it doesn't happen often. The Canadian Royal Aurors have layer upon layer of spell to prevent, say, Apparation between provinces, without appropriate border checks."

That, PK knows, is different from how Muggles do it. But then, Muggles don't have to worry about instantaneously crossing the country to get away from a crime you've just committed. The wizarding world tends to be smaller by necessity. "I've documented a few crimes that happened here and in Ontario," PK says. "It's difficult, because the Ontario Aurors do things differently, even leaving aside the language thing. But it's possible."

"For now, we will say he stayed in Quebec," Caro says. "If we must widen our search, then we must, but hopefully there is more to be done with this key." She looks at Melissa.

Melissa nods, but she doesn't look at all confident. "I can run some tests," she says. "I can try to turn it into a locator charm. But I'll need a few days."

The last thing PK wants is to leave the key with Melissa. He barely feels safe with himself being the one to guard it, much less someone else.

But Caro is looking at them expectantly, and PK gets the feeling Caro's not used to being denied. So he says, "Of course," and hopes he hasn't made a mistake.

"PK's the keeper of the key," Carey says. "Informally, of course."

Caro inclines her head. "We will keep it safe."

At least a promise from a vampire holds the weight of what PK suspects is a terrifying amount of magic. "Good to know," he says. "I guess we're done here, then."

Caro sniffs. "I hope you don't think that badly of my hospitality."

That's how they find themselves drinking tea and eating croissants at 11 PM. PK feels awkward doing it, but Caro is solicitous in an imperious way, and Melissa tears herself away from the key long enough to drink some tea with them. Finally, at just after midnight, Caro says, "You may Apparate directly from this apartment, if you choose."

"No, we can't," Carey says.

She raises her eyebrows. "Do you think I can't hold back your protective enchantments for a minute or two?"

PK almost laughs at the offended look on Carey's face. "Let's go," he says, putting a hand on Carey's arm.

He feels Carey stiffen, but it's not visible. Still, he pulls his hand away before Apparating.

He expects Carey to go directly to bed; they have work in the morning. But PK's barely made it into the hallway when Carey's coming after him, grabbing him, and kissing him.

His hand is hard on PK's arm, but the actual kiss is gentle, and when PK kisses back, Carey's hand loosens. They end up fucking in Carey's bed, Carey pressing into PK with his eyes closed. PK loves it, just like he loves most sex, but something about the way Carey feels makes him press for more, harder. Anything to keep that feeling for as long as they're doing this.

They wake up early the next morning and go into work. PK is put on filing duty; Carey has to go make sure wizards aren't breaking the law at the only wizarding park in the city. When Carey gets his assignment, PK's briefly worried he'll break something; but he only crumples up the parchment and says, "I'll see you later," to PK.

"Sure," PK says. He leaves, too, going into the records room.

It's not comforting anymore. His mind is full of the stuff they have to do to get Martin. They won't hear back from Melissa until at least mid-week, he's guessing, and he feels like there should be something they can do in the meantime. But of course, to his knowledge, there's not.

He works all day in the records room. When he Apparates back to Carey's, Carey is already there, glaring at the far wall of the living room.

"Park duty not fun, eh?"

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"I kind of knew it wasn't," PK says. "That was more, I mean - we can talk about it, if you want."

Carey pauses, appearing to think it over, before shrugging. "Nothing much to talk about," he says. "I'm used to chasing killers, not telling wizards they can't streak through the park."

PK does his best not to laugh. A sort of snort does escape, though. "I'm sorry."

Carey nods his acknowledgement. "It could be worse, I suppose."

"It can always be worse," PK says. "At least Martin doesn't suspect anything?"

"That we know of. He might not be letting on."

That's a sobering thought. PK lets it sit in his head, then shakes his head. "We'd know, I'm sure of it."

Carey looks less than sure, but he doesn't say anything. PK gets to the business of making dinner.

The next few days are basically low-grade torture. PK wouldn't have thought that going back to the records room would be this painful. It's still difficult and challenging work, but compared to working a beat with Carey, taking on cases ranging between a week and several months of work, this is nothing. He thought he loved his job before, but now, he's really not sure.

It's complicated, of course, by his knowledge of Martin's conspiracy. The last thing he wants is to let Martin go, when he's busy siphoning magic, running illegal deals, and being just generally incredibly shady. There's the matter of Mortimer, too, and his vampire-magic spells. PK never anticipated, never came even close to thinking, that he'd be caught in something like this. And now it's all he can do to stay focused and not give it all away.

Part of him wonders if this is how Carey spends his life, but he dismisses that pretty quickly. Carey likes being undercover, and anyway, when he's undercover he's doing more important things than preventing people from putting hexes on the ducks at Parc Delorme.

Finally, though, on Thursday night, they get a message from Melissa. "She's cracked it," PK says. "But, um, she says we should come over tomorrow night."

Carey looks grim. "It's not good news, then."

"You don't think?"

"No," Carey says. "There's no way. If it was simple, she'd have sent us a location."

PK can only pray it's not out of Quebec. That will require more subterfuge than PK thinks he's capable of; they can't just cross the border without Martin getting wind of it. Especially since PK has no idea if the Royal Aurors who monitor province borders are in Martin's pocket.

"This whole thing is kind of terrifying," he says finally.

Carey smirks. "You running scared?"

PK stabs his fork of lo mein noodles at Carey. "Not unless you are."

"Not likely."

"Then, no." PK takes another bite, stabbing one of his shrimp with maybe a little more force than is strictly necessary.

"Good," Carey says. Then, quieter, he adds, "I'm glad."

PK smiles a little. "Yeah, you'd better be."

They both stay up late that night, too keyed up to go to bed right away. PK spends a nightmarish Friday putting together evidence for Plekanec's case, a love potion embezzlement ring. The work itself is tedious, and Plekanec has been expecting miracles all week, so PK's feeling pretty frazzled by the time they go to Carey's safe house.

Caro greets them at the door. "Come in," she says.

PK's pretty sure he's not imagining the irony in her voice. She must enjoy being able to invite people in, being a vampire and all.

"Well?" Carey says when they're assembled in the kitchen. Melissa is sitting at the table, mug of tea in hand, with the key in front of her. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. PK doesn't sit down, nervous enough that he wants to stand; Carey doesn't either.

"I have good news and bad news," Melissa says.

"And clichés," Carey says. "Just tell us."

"I turned the key into a locator spell," Melissa says, "and followed it to its location. That's the good news."

"The bad news?" PK says.

Melissa grimaces. "The door itself is keyed to Martin. There are spells layers thick - all I could do is detect them. There's no way I can dismantle them, and they're guarded by some nasty curses."

"That's where we come in," Carey says. "So where's this door?"

"In the side of a mountain in Parc national du Mont-Tremblant," Melissa says.

PK blinks.

"Northwest of Montreal," Melissa adds. "Quite close, actually." She pushes the key towards them. "If you key your Apparation to this, it'll take you there."

She swallows and opens her mouth like she's going to say something else, but then closes her mouth again. PK's willing to let it rest, hyper-conscious of everything she's been through; but Carey says, "What?"

"The magic in that key is Dark," Melissa says. "Medieval conceptions of Dark magic aside, it was ugly and unpleasant. Most wizards here, even more than in the States, are likely to tread a line; there's not the...reactionary element to different kinds of magic that there is down there. But this? No one would argue that this is something no wizard should be doing. Much like the spells Mortimer used."

PK remembers the object she gave them - it's kept safe by Carey, and he's not too eager for the details. "We're Aurors," he says. "Canada might not be medieval about Dark magic, but sometimes we have to be."

"Just be careful," Melissa says.

"We will be," PK says. "I guess I should say thank you?"

He phrases it as a question, but Melissa smiles a little. "You're welcome."

"You should leave," Caro says. "Go there over the weekend. See if you can take the spells apart. It won't be easy."

"I suppose you can't just magic them apart?" Carey says, sounding bored.

"No," Caro says. "Some wizard magic is beyond my abilities." She looks like she could spit over it.

PK makes an educated guess. "You mean you can't tear it apart without destroying whatever's behind that door."

"Indeed."

"We'll do it," Carey says. He steps forward and takes the key. "I can't thank you enough."

He sounds kind of robotic, PK thinks, but Caro is apparently willing to work with it. "You'll return the debt by ending this."

"We will," Carey says grimly.

PK makes their polite goodbyes. Carey stays silent until they're back, when he closes his hand around the key and says, "Two days."

"I'll refresh my knowledge of curse-breaking," PK says.

Carey grits his teeth, jaw clenched. "Whatever we find, it might be ugly."

"Sure," PK says. "I know."

"Do you?"

"I'm a paper-pusher." PK shrugs. "I don't pretend to be anything else. But if you think I don't remember what they taught us in Auror training, if you think I don't know what we might run into..."

He knows it's a good point, so he's not surprised when Carey nods and holds the key out. "Take it. Again. Hide it from me."

"Subterfuge," PK says, and takes it. "You'd better go to bed, then."

Carey goes. PK hides the key in a look-away enchantment, behind a bookshelf, and follows.

He's more than a little surprised when Carey puts an arm around his waist. There was no indication, as far as PK can tell - but Carey's lips are brushing the back of PK's neck in a not-quite-kiss and he's pulling PK close. PK could protest, but he doesn't really see the point of it. Carey's...he likes Carey. A lot.

They survive the rest of the week. PK's not sure how, since he's ready to explode at Plekanec and tell him to do his own research, ill-advised though he knows that would be; but however they do it, they do survive. When the weekend comes, PK dresses for what he assumes will be a hike, in nondescript Muggle clothes. When Carey emerges from his room, he's wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and cowboy boots.

He looks like he's in his element, and he looks good. PK swallows hard and tries to ignore it. "Ready to go?"

"Activate the key," Carey says.

PK's well aware that the curses they're about to encounter could very well kill them. He's not sure what to say, so he settles for, "Good looking out, eh?"

"We're coming back from this," Carey says sharply.

The wrong thing to say, then. "I know," PK says. "I was trying to lighten the mood."

Carey looks, if PK's being honest with himself, kind of sour. But he just says, "Sure. Ready?"

"Ready," PK says, and takes the key out of his pocket. He taps it with his wand; Carey follows suit. PK takes hold of the key and Apparates.

To his relief, Carey appears next to him a second later. PK doesn't even notice where they're standing until Carey's there - but once he does, it's kind of hard to ignore.

The woods are more than just generic woods. They're lush and beautiful, almost untouched. PK catches the darting movement of a small animal out of the corner of his eye. There's birdsong and a brook babbling in the distance. It's beautiful.

Or, at least, it would be. The heavily wrought door that all but stinks of Dark magic, standing ten feet away from them, kind of ruins it.

PK pockets the key and pulls out his wand. "Ready?"

Carey smirks, and PK realizes he just parroted Carey himself. "Ready," Carey says.

"Shut up," PK can't help but say.

It means a lot of things in this context. Most notably, it means, we'll get through this. Carey appears to agree, because he nods and says, "Revelare."

Spells glow with light, racing along the door. They're remarkably close-knit to the wood and iron that makes up the door; normally, protective spells would extend at least a few feet from the object in question. But really, it was probably ridiculous to expect this to be easy.

Accordingly, PK reaches out and tries a relaxation spell. They're primarily used by wizarding masseuses, but PK's found they sometimes work for protective spells.

A layer of spells - a crooked-legs hex, if PK's going to get into guessing - melts away from the mass.

"Well done," Carey says quietly. He casts an unraveling spell.

And so they go, for hours, casting various spells meant to gently peel away the layers of curses and impediments. PK gets tired after awhile, but Carey's showing no signs of flagging, so it's not like PK's going to give in. When the sun starts setting, Carey pulls out some fry-bread and passes it over to PK. PK can tell the second he bites into it that it's been magically fortified; he eats a piece and feels like he's had a massive dinner. It gives him the energy to cast a counter-hex against the complicated soul-tainting Forgetting curse wound around the door.

It's just becoming dusk when they finish. "Two days," Carey says, sinking to his knees on the forest floor. "Take that, Caro."

PK snorts and leans down, bracing his palms on his knees. "Yeah, how stupid of her."

"We got it done," Carey says. "Quickly, even."

"And now there's no way we can go inside. We're both too tired."

Carey makes a show of looking around. "Do you have enough left to Apparate back?"

PK snorts. "I'm not making a lean-to with you. I'm sure you'd be good at it, but I like sleeping in beds."

"City boy," Carey says with a sly smile.

PK wants to kiss him. He puts it out of his mind. "You know it." He straightens, then says, "Revertetur."

It takes enough effort that it feels kind of like being punched in the gut; this is a trick spell he never tried except during training. But sure enough, a haze of spells pops up, looking exactly like the spells they just spent the entire day dismantling.

Carey whistles. "Nice."

"I'm ready to collapse," PK says, "so let's go." He Apparates back to Carey's.

Carey follows, but the first words out of his mouth are, "Where'd you learn that?"

"Training."

Carey shakes his head. "We never learned that in training."

"I sort of extrapolated it a bit," PK says.

"Oh?"

PK shrugs. "Adaptability is important, right?" And that was before he realized he was bound for a desk job.

"It's not the worst thing," Carey says. He claps PK on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed. See you later." He walks past PK, down the hall.

PK stands on his own for a minute, feeling stupid. Apparently they're not going to fuck tonight. Not, he reminds himself, that it really matters; they're just doing that casually. They have more important things to worry about.

He goes back after a minute, and ends up jockeying with Carey for sink space as they brush their teeth. He's not really surprised when he lies down and Carey curls around him, head tucked into PK's shoulder.

It's too warm, of course; they'll split apart in their sleep, most likely. But PK falls asleep with a warm, content feeling that's becoming incredibly familiar.

They eat breakfast together the next day. Then PK says, "Ready?"

"We'll need to Apparate a little east," Carey says. "In case Martin is there."

PK's not so sure. "If Martin's there, the game is up anyway."

"Let's Apparate a little east," Carey says.

PK sighs, but he humors Carey. Carey keys in their location and they Apparate together.

Martin isn't there. PK takes the spells down without incident, and then they unlock the door and enter.

PK's half expecting another layer of protective spells, but apparently Martin was confident in the ability of the ones outside to keep invaders away. They step into a musty room, about ten feet in each direction, lined with shelves. There are no windows, so PK says, "Lumos," as Carey closes the door.

The light casts an eerie glow on misshapen, ugly containers lining the shelves. There are only about eight of them, and PK can't detect any pattern that they're arranged in.

So he says, "Revelare."

Nothing happens.

"Guess that's it," Carey says.

PK nods, then realizes it's probably too dim for Carey to see him. "Yeah."

"Which one do you want to look in first?"

PK points to the leftmost container, a lumpy clay pot. "Might as well take it in order, eh?"

They open the pot up; it's empty. That pattern continues until they get to the rightmost container, a stone box which contains...

PK recoils. He can feel the Dark magic seeping off the object. Auror training's made him more sensitive, but he's pretty sure any normal wizard could feel it too. "That's -"

"A Horcrux," Carey says grimly.

PK's torn between being disgusted and being relieved. "He went through all this trouble to hide a Horcrux?"

Carey covers the top of the stone box. "No. There's no way. He has an Eternity Pocket, or something."

"I should've known it wouldn't be this easy."

Carey snorts. "You probably should've," he agrees.

"You were expecting it?"

"I expect everything."

That, PK thinks, is probably pretty fair.

"Okay," he says. "Well, let's get to work."

Two hours later, they've determined there are no Eternity Pockets or trapdoors. There's nothing, as far as PK can tell, which leaves one option.

"Let's dig," PK says.

Carey frowns.

"What, you think I'm wrong?"

"No amount of spells will be able to hide that we've been here," Carey says.

"We're going to leave the Horcrux," PK says. "But we need to figure out what he's hiding."

"Right," Carey says, and waves his wand.

It turns out not to be a big deal: the dirt scatters and reveals a trap door.

"Oh," PK breathes.

"Come on," Carey says, and yanks it up.

PK's the first to climb down. He's not sure what he's expecting, but when his feet touch the floor, torches light up. Not only that, but the floor itself is stone, and the room has columns and one large, heavy chest. It looks like Martin wasn't expecting anyone to find this.

And if upstairs was his hiding place for a Horcrux, PK is honestly kind of scared of what's down here.

"Victoria's teeth," Carey breathes when he turns around. He reaches out and grabs PK's arm. "We -"

"Need to open that chest," PK says. "Let's worry about covering our tracks later."

He thinks it's a good point - and they did set up alarms so they can be sure to Apparate before Martin discovers them. But Carey doesn't exactly look comfortable, and he's still grabbing PK's arm.

So PK shakes it lightly and says, "Carey," with more urgency.

Carey shakes himself. "What? I - yeah, okay." He grimaces. "I'm here."

"The chest?"

"I hate this place," Carey mutters. He says more loudly, "Let's get to it."

They cast a half dozen spells, but the chest is also unprotected by magic. Finally, PK lifts it.

There's an assortment of objects, but none of them radiates the evil that the Horcrux upstairs did. But PK understands why Martin hid them so thoroughly when he sees the inlaid document holder in the chest. He pulls out a sheet of parchment and says, "I think we found it."

Carey nods, eyes immediately fixated on the parchment. PK closes the chest and lays the parchment out on top of it, and together, they read.

The information is cryptic; the document's magical, and is being used for communication, much like the one they had while undercover. But the meaning is clear. Martin knows that they found out about his involvement while undercover, and plans to send them out on a death mission starting Monday.

And a wizard is coming from the States to Polyjuice and Imperius his way into the director's position in Quebec City.

"I know him," Carey says.

"Who?"

Carey taps the parchment. "Shane Doan. We're cousins. He disappeared a few years ago."

"Apparently he didn't," PK says. "He's Apparating from Phoenix in a week."

"And Martin wants to kill us."

Carey says it like they shouldn't be panicking, which is remarkable, because PK - PK's definitely panicking. Even though a small part of him points out that if Martin is putting his plans here, then he doesn't know they've been snooping around his office.

"You obviously have a plan," PK says. "What do you think we should do?"

Carey shrugs. "It seems obvious to me."

"...does it?" PK says.

"Yes." Carey looks so calm it almost hurts PK to look at him. "We're going to Quebec City, and Caro's going to work us some magic so Martin thinks we've been taken."

For a second, all PK can do is stare at Carey. It sounds so crazy that it takes him a long time to just parse what Carey's saying. When he manages it, he says, "Oh, God. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"That's insane."

Carey shrugs. "Do you have a better idea?"

PK really doesn't, but he's processing the disaster. Unlike Carey, who seems fine with his pronouncement, like he's looking forward to faking his own death and going on the run.

PK shoves aside his suspicion that Carey's going to collapse once they're not-really-kidnapped. He can deal with that later. For now, he says, "Okay, okay. You're right. So how do we go about doing that?"

"Effingo," Carey says, tapping the parchment. PK's amazed when it duplicates. It won't have the same magic, but the contents are there; Martin really wasn't guarding against anything, this time around.

"Now," Carey says, "we hide our tracks. And then we pay Caro a visit."

They spend almost four hours covering up the mess they've made. The sun's not close to setting yet, but it's the far side of noon by the time they Apparate to the street where Carey's safe house is.

Carey can still get in without any trouble, which is how they end up walking in on Caro pressing Melissa against the kitchen wall and kissing her.

"Oh Merlin, sorry," PK says.

Carey says, at the same time, "Excuse us."

He sounds amused, and, well. It's his house. PK's not going to fake outrage if Carey's fine with it.

"Hi," he says lamely when they separate and look at him and Carey.

Caro looks between them and sighs. "Tell me what you've done now," she says, taking a decisive step away from Melissa.

"We stole something," Carey says.

"Duplicated it," PK says.

"Which is nothing like theft, of course."

Sarcasm is practically dripping from Caro's mouth. He figures there's no sense in putting if off, so PK says, "Martin's planning on killing us."

Caro, to her credit, hides her shock well. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, then." She looks them over critically. "I suppose you'll have to disappear."

"There's more." Carey pulls the parchment out of his coat. "A distant cousin of mine is coming to Quebec City from the States. He's going to be taking over the Aurors there."

"Let me guess," Melissa says, sounding considerably more shaken than Caro. "He's a Dark wizard."

"Right in one," Carey says.

"Lovely."

"He's a real bastard," Carey says, "so once you help us fake a kidnapping, we can see about getting him away from Quebec."

"And you're counting on my help?" Caro says.

"It would make life easier," Carey says. "Plus, you love Quebec, and we both know it."

Caro presses her lips together. "If I do this -"

"We'll stay hidden," Carey says. "For as long as it takes."

"Very well," Caro says, and pulls a knife out of a hidden pocket of her pants.

PK jumps.

She slants him an amused look. "Not what you were expecting?"

"Not...really," PK says lamely.

"Hold out your hand," she says. "You're lucky I'm so old. Homunculi are no young vampire's purview."

PK holds out his hand, trying not to think about it. Caro slices it neatly, and when the blood begins to fall to the floor, hisses and starts speaking in a language PK doesn't recognize.

It only takes a moment. Caro's licking her finger and touching it to the cut almost before PK can think. As his hand closes up, he stares down at the perfect replica of his own body, sitting on the floor.

"Will that fool an Auror?" Carey says. He manages to sound like he doesn't really care. PK's impressed.

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Caro says. "Now you."

Five minutes later, PK's staring at copies of them. Caro is matter-of-factly kicking and slicing at them, to make it look like they've believably been in a duel. All PK can think is that this suddenly seems incredibly, painfully real.

"Well?" Caro says. "I can take care of the details. You'll be spotted on a corner in Montreal, and then you will be gone. Pack your bags and leave."

"We need a car," Carey says, turning to PK.

PK blinks. "Are we pretending to be Muggles?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

PK really doesn't, so he shrugs and says, "Okay. I'm sure we can obtain one."

Apparently it's the right thing to say. Carey smiles wide and says, "Good thinking."

PK turns to Caro and Melissa. "We'll be in touch."

"Give me an address when you have one," Melissa says. "There's a Muggle phone here. Get cell phones or something."

It chills PK to think that they might not even be able to Floo. But of course, that's not exactly the most secure means of communication in the world. "Will do," PK says.

"Thank you," Carey adds quietly. "We're in your debt."

PK's amazed, because Carey doesn't tend to talk like that. He's more amazed when Caro simply says, "Don't thank me. End this."

Carey nods. "Let's go," he says to PK.

They walk down to the street together. "Your place?" PK says.

Carey's mouth twists bitterly. "One last time."

They Apparate there. PK's already mostly packed; he condenses what he absolutely needs down to one bag full of Muggle clothes and a few books that might be useful, all duplicated so it's not obvious they've left. The key goes with him, too, and the parchment. Carey also has a single bag, but he packs more quickly than PK. When PK gets out into the living room, Carey's looking around like he's never seen it before.

"They'll sell everything," Carey says. "Or get rid of it."

PK hesitates. He doesn't really know what to say.

"Let's go," Carey says abruptly, hoisting his bag.

Carey manufactures some Muggle cash and they buy a car at a used dealership. They pick up Muggle cell phones, too. It's not even eleven at night when they get on the road and begin driving away from Montreal.

"Call Caro," Carey says. "I put the number in your phone."

PK feels clumsy, handling the Muggle technology. But Caro picks up on the first ring. "We're leaving," he says.

She says some common Quebec swear words, then some old-sounding, other French ones. "Good," she says, belying her own words. "I'll make sure your bodies get found, then."

"Cool," PK says.

There's a silence long enough that he wonders if Caro has hung up. Then she says, "Did Carey take his things?"

"Um." PK glances over at Carey, but if Carey can hear the conversation, he's not letting on. "No. We each have a bag. We duplicated our stuff."

"Good," Caro says. It's not a good night for her, apparently. "Call when you get to Quebec." She hangs up.

They reach Quebec just after one AM, having taken the Route Transcanadienne to the city. It's not that long a trip by Muggle standards, PK knows, but he's unaccustomed to that kind of travel, except for the few times he's taken the train. He's exhausted when they get out of the car at a hotel in downtown Quebec City.

"I'll check us in," Carey says. "Call Caro."

"We're here," PK says when she picks up, following Carey into the lobby.

"In the city?"

"Carey's getting us rooms now." PK nods as Carey lifts up their room keys. He follows Carey to the elevator, trying not to look like - well, like a wizard faking his own kidnapping.

"Good," Caro says, but she doesn't sound happy. "Lay low for a few days. Don't go anywhere important, much less to the Auror headquarters there. Let me convince everyone you've been taken."

PK respects her directness, he really does. It's just that it's also kind of terrifying, since the context is everyone believing they're dead.

With a sudden, sick wave of self-awareness, he realizes something he hadn't even thought of before. "Oh God, my parents."

"This isn't for forever. They'll be fine for a few months."

Caro sounds callous, but PK appreciates it; it means that when he steps out of the elevator on the fourth floor, he's not panicking. "I just -"

"Carey's parents will believe he's been taken too," Caro says. "It's part of the job. Are you going to try to contact them like an idiot?"

"Of course not."

"Then we don't have a problem. I'll call you when it's done. Expect it in a day or so." Caro hangs up.

Carey lets them into their room. PK sits down heavily on the leftmost bed, staring at the wall. He almost lets go of his phone, he's feeling so distant from everything.

"Hey," Carey says. He kneels in front of PK, his face coming into PK's line of sight. "Come on, PK, don't chicken out on me now."

"I don't think worrying about my parents is chickening out," PK says.

"Maybe not," Carey says. "It's terrible. But we'll get it done, and then we won't have to do this again."

"Will we?" PK says. "Do you really think we can clear corruption out of the Royal Aurors, just like that?"

Carey shrugs. "I think we don't have a choice."

He says it bleakly, and PK thinks he probably means it bleakly too; it's not like it's easy or even reasonable to be feeling optimistic right now. But weirdly enough, it almost makes PK feel more cheerful. They can't do anything about the odds being so stacked against them, so they might as well do the best they can.

So he smiles down at Carey and says, "Guess we'll get to work tomorrow, then." He grabs Carey's wrists and pulls him to his feet, kissing him.

It's the kind of kiss that PK doesn't initiate often, with Carey or anyone else. It's more intimate than he's used to, both more careful, almost gentle, and more - well, difficult.

Carey pushes him back on the bed and straddles him, one hand tight on the side of PK's face. PK would normally enjoy the push and pull more, but he's honestly kind of freaking out, so when Carey tugs his t-shirt up and looks down at PK with dark eyes, PK just looks up at him and doesn't move.

"Do you want this?" Carey says. His voice is hoarse and low.

Part of PK wants to ask Carey what he means. PK's never been one for hidden meaning, but there are layers and layers to everything that Carey says. PK wants to peel those layers back, even though he's more or less sure that he can't, that those parts of Carey are beyond him.

He realizes suddenly that he's taking too long to answer. "Yes," he says.

Carey looks down at him some more. PK thinks he might be doubting it, so he says, "Seriously, yes," and pulls Carey down more firmly on top of him.

They kiss for a long time, PK staying under Carey and Carey touching PK's chest, gripping his side, like PK's going to Apparate away from him. PK can't think of it as lazy making out, not when Carey's holding onto him like this, and not when his own feelings are a storm of Victoria-only-knows-what, making his chest tight and his eyes prickly.

But he's hard, and after awhile it turns into something he desperately needs to deal with. So he pulls away from Carey enough to say, "Let me suck you off."

Carey's flushed a little, like he's embarrassed. But he nods jerkily and rolls to the side, pulling his pants off.

For a minute PK just looks at him. But then Carey snaps, "Well?", with that edge in his voice that means he's going to try to start a fight if PK keeps it up. It's kind of a crazy thing to sound like over PK looking at him, but PK kind of gets it, given the way it feels like a crushing weight is hanging above them. So he settles between Carey's legs and kisses his stomach, his hip, wrapping one hand around the base of Carey's dick and slowly licking up the length.

It's not a fast blowjob, or a messy one. It's slow and careful, and PK keeps his eyes on Carey's face, watching for something he's not even sure he can name. Carey's eyelids flutter and he looks desperate, intense; PK sucks harder at that, plays with Carey's balls and tries his best to communicate that he's here. He's not leaving, he's staying by Carey's side and they're going to get out of this alive.

It's a lot to get through in a blowjob. But when Carey comes, he moans brokenly and pulls PK up to him; as they kiss, PK thinks he might've gotten it.

It doesn't even occur to him that he's turned on until Carey reaches between them and shoves PK's pants down far enough to get his hand in. Then he realizes he's still mostly hard, and 'mostly' becomes 'painfully' as Carey mouths at his neck and jerks him off, rough and hard, exactly how PK likes.

He comes with a gasp, all over Carey's hand and his stomach. Carey arches against him and holds him through it. When he's done, Carey rolls them again, discarding PK's pants entirely and throwing a leg over PK's.

He's expecting them to silently fall asleep, just like he's expecting them to wake up in the morning and be stoic about it all. He's not expecting Carey to say abruptly, "I've never done this before."

"...had sex?" PK ventured, because the opportunity is lying right there, and PK's not made of stone.

"No," Carey says. He sounds cranky; PK can't help but grin to himself. "Of course I've - come on."

"I was just curious."

"Clearly," Carey says. "No, I meant - I've never done this with a partner before."

"Huh," PK says, because sex doesn't exactly make him eloquent.

"I just." Carey shrugs. "It feels weird, I guess. And it's against protocol."

"Because you care about protocol?" PK says, smiling.

"I do," Carey says. But PK can tell the offense he injects into his tone is fake.

"We should sleep," he says finally. "Protocol or not, we're good like this."

"And if it blows up in our faces?"

"We're Aurors," PK says. "We'll deal with it."

He's not sure it's that persuasive, but Carey drops it. After awhile, his breathing slows, and he relaxes against PK.

PK himself is too keyed up to sleep for a long time. He finally manages it a few hours before dawn, which means that when Carey wakes him up relatively early in the morning, he feels like shit.

"Gretzky's balls," Carey says, squinting at him. "You look awful."

"So do you," PK rasps.

"Maybe," Carey says, "but you look like death. How much sleep did you get?"

Carey being so insightful can really be a problem. "Enough," PK says. He yawns and stretches, trying to get his brain to cooperate. "What's our agenda for today?"

"Sitting on our asses, waiting for Caro," Carey says. "Something I'm personally pretty damn tired of."

"She's been good to us," PK says.

"That doesn't mean I have to like the necessity."

"But still," PK says. He thinks about Caro faking their kidnapping, and about his parents, and tries not to feel sick to his stomach. "Anyway," he finally says. "I guess we could have marathon hotel room sex. Although they have servants to clean, so it might be rude."

"Housekeeping," Carey corrects. "And we'll handle that with our own spells. We can put up the 'Do Not Disturb' thing."

"You're the expert."

"Are your domestic spells not up to scratch?" Carey asks with a lopsided smile.

PK affects offense. "My domestic spells are the best you'll ever see."

"I doubt that," Carey says. "But I guess if you think so, that's nice for you."

"You're going down for that," PK says, and grabs Carey, wrestling him to the floor.

They decide, after awhile, that laying low probably doesn't mean they can't go down and get breakfast, or take a walk around the block. Quebec City is nice enough, PK guesses; he's been here before a few times, but mostly only to the wizarding parts. It's going to be weird keeping to the Muggle parts.

When they've killed as much time as possible, it's still only three o'clock in the afternoon. PK plops down on the couch in their hotel room and says, "You're sure about that whole marathon sex thing?"

Carey doesn't even look at him; he's rifling through his bag. "I'm sure."

"Because I could go," PK says. "For hours, if you know what I mean."

Carey doesn't get offended, just rolls his eyes. "Yeah, PK, I know what you mean." He pulls out a long, thin mirror. "We're going to do some spying."

PK whistles. "You just lug an enchanted mirror around?"

"Normally it stays in my apartment," Carey says. "With a ton of security. But that's not really feasible right now."

"I see," PK says.

They settle on the couch together, and Carey taps the mirror with his wand. Smoke swirls in it - kind of dramatically, PK thinks.

"It used to be a theater prop."

"More energy, got it," PK says. Theater is the kind of thing that tends to amplify magic in objects that've been exposed for a long time.

"We're going to use it to spy on Doan right now," Carey says. He focuses on the mirror, expression so intense it's basically a glare. "Show me Shane Doan."

The smoke swirls more and more quickly, then sweeps dramatically to either side, like curtains parting. Theater, PK thinks, biting back a grin. He focuses on the image in the mirror.

At first, it's an empty greatroom in what looks like a wizarding government building from the 1970s or so. But then the mirror pans over a towering stack of rolls of parchment, and PK and Carey both gasp almost-silently.

Someone PK assumes is Shane Doan is standing over an old woman's dead body. As they watch, the woman's looks fade, and she's replaced by the body of an even older-looking man.

"Polyjuice," PK says quietly.

Just in his range of vision, Carey nods.

Doan says something, looking bored, and the body bursts into flames. The flames don't scorch the floor, obviously; in a few minutes, nothing - not even dust - is left of the dead wizard.

Doan smirks and sits down at the desk.

"Thank you," Carey says. The mirror goes day.

"So," PK says. "What was that, exactly?"

"That was Doan incinerating the already-fired head of the Quebec City Aurors," Carey says.

"Well, yeah," PK says. "I know that. But - why?"

"He probably discovered something," Carey says.

"The Polyjuice?"

"Doan wouldn't want anyone to track him entering the building in his own form, not when Doan was planning on killing him."

PK kind of wants to puke. "Well, that's great."

"He's a character."

Carey says it casually, like it's no big deal, but his voice is tight; it's obvious to PK that he's upset. PK doesn't hesitate to put his arm around Carey's shoulder. "We'll get him."

Carey scowls, but he doesn't move away from PK, which is its own kind of tell. "I know," he snaps.

PK doesn't have an answer for that, so he says, "Cool," and keeps his arm around Carey.

They stay like that for awhile, Carey's hands loosely cradling the mirror. There's no real transition period; Carey just abruptly stands up and says, "Let's go get dinner."

"Um," PK says, but he stands up, too.

Carey glares at him, like he's expecting him to say something. "You don't want dinner?"

"Whoa." PK holds his hands up. "Sure, I want dinner."

Carey relaxes immediately, like he was never weird to begin with. "I'm not good at this," he says, focusing on the far wall. "It's personal, and we're about to be legally missing. So I'm bad at this."

"Okay," PK says. "Well, I've never done this before, so."

That gets him a little smile, at least. "I've never been kidnapped either."

"See? We're even." PK goes over to Carey, moving in slowly enough that Carey could easily push him away, and kisses him.

"Dinner, you said," PK says when they pull apart.

Carey blinks a couple of times, licks his lips, and nods. "Let's go."

Neither of them wants to leave the hotel, with their legal status being kind of up in the air, so they sit in the hotel restaurant and eat. They order foie gras because, according to Carey, "This is our last meal as free men, right?"

PK thinks that's kind of macabre, but Carey's not wrong. In a way.

Once they've eaten - and paid with cash - they go back to their room. Before Carey can go to the unused bed, PK grabs his wrist.

Carey goes still, tilting his head and looking at PK.

PK swallows, hoping that what he says next comes out right. "Hey. You want to, you know, together. Right?"

"Are you asking if I want to fuck?" Carey says, sounding amused.

"Sure," PK says. "It's not the daytime anymore."

"Oh, well, in that case."

Carey doesn't sound much different than he normally does, but PK can tell he's teasing. It's kind of a relief, considering their situation. "Yeah, in that case," he says, and steps forward, pulling Carey to him until PK can kiss him.

Carey fucks him, slow and hard, staring down at him the whole time. It's not sweet; it's the opposite of sweet, really. But PK's glad for it because he wants Carey. He always wants Carey.

It's not a realization or anything, but it does keep him up for awhile before he finally manages to fall asleep, curled around Carey.

Caro contacts them midmorning the next day. "It's done," she says.

PK's hand tightens a little around the still-unfamiliar cell phone. "Thanks," he says. "So I guess we should start doing recon, eh?"

"It's not my job to tell Aurors what to do," Caro says.

"But it's safe?"

"It's never safe," Caro says, and hangs up.

PK grimaces. "Well, that was fun."

"She's a bruiser," Carey says. "In all ways but technically hitting people."

"But she's killed people."

"Of course she has," Carey says. "But she doesn't want to get her hands dirty." His expression goes unfocused. "I get it," he says after a long moment.

PK kind of really doesn't want to know what Carey means by that, but somehow he finds himself asking anyway. "Get it how?"

Carey shrugs. "I strangled someone once. It wasn't fun."

There are whole currents, there, of things Carey's not saying. PK wants to spin them out. He wants to see if he can get Carey to talk, for once, honestly, about this stuff.

But then, he wants a lot of things, when the fact remains that they have work to do. "Right," he says.

Carey very obviously thinks there's something wrong. "I had to."

"I know." PK doesn't know how to say it, but he manages to get out, "I'm glad you did, if it meant doing your job."

"It meant saving my life."

"Then I'm more glad."

Carey stares at him, and PK looks back. More and more, he feels like all he can do when Carey looks at him like that is give him honesty, even if he has no idea what it is Carey's looking for.

"We should go," Carey says finally. "Get the lay of the land. We'll start serious recon tomorrow."

They go to the Aurors' office and hang around the outside, look-away charms firmly in place. Since they're legally missing PK's not that worried about someone realizing who they are; there's not a lot of crossover between the two offices, and neither of them was ever that visible with the Quebec Aurors. But he's still relieved when they get all the major entrances and exits mapped, and a good feel of the spells protecting the building, and no one raises an alarm.

"Recon tomorrow," Carey says again when they get back to the hotel.

PK nods. "And tonight?"

Carey looks at him. Really looks at him, looking him up and down and smiling a little.

"Is this your version of hitting on me?" PK says. He means it to sound mocking, like Carey himself might say it, but it comes out breathy.

"Maybe," Carey says. "How do you feel about that?"

"You want to know how I feel?" PK laughs. "Come here."

He doesn't wait for Carey to come to him, though. He takes a step forward and kisses Carey, swaying into it when Carey grabs his arms with surprising - to PK, anyway - force. Carey backs him against the wall and kisses him harder, fingers digging into PK's arms.

They're easy with each other by now, but nothing about this is easy. It feels like it felt a few nights ago, only more final, somehow; PK knows without being told that Carey's going to pull away after this. They have a job to do, something PK doesn't even really need to remind himself of; he knows perfectly well that they're not on vacation. The specter of his family is hanging over his head, and he keeps seeing the homonculi Caro created for them and trying to remember that someday, this will be over and he can go home.

For now he settles on touching Carey, pulling him over to the bed and then pushing him down. He gets Carey's dick in his mouth, gets Carey's hands on his head, and does his best to forget about what they're going to do starting tomorrow, what they're risking.

He doesn't want to be the kid in the office again, someone who graduated from Auror school but isn't any better than a desk job. But he can admit, as Carey methodically takes him apart with his hands and mouth, that he doesn't want to be dead, either. What they're doing is necessary.

Thinking that much has never gone well for him. He's grateful when he comes, because after that, he's overwhelmed with enough exhaustion that he doesn't think about anything, just falls asleep.

He's a lot less relaxed when he wakes up alone.

He doesn't panic, or anything. He checks the bathroom, then downstairs. He spares a second for wishing they'd kept some variation on the curse, so that he could be assured that Carey wasn't that far away. But of course, the curse is gone, and with it PK's hope of knowing where Carey's gone. He tells himself that Carey will be back in his own time, and probably has good reasons for leaving. He goes back up to their room.

He finds the note sitting on top of his suitcase, written on a plain piece of lined Muggle paper. Gone after Doan. Don't follow.

PK stares at the note, and stares at it, and stares at it. He keeps hoping, as he stares at it, that maybe at some point it will make some kind of sense. He also hopes maybe the sudden anger that roared up the second he read it will die. Thus far, neither is happening.

Finally, he sets the note down. He doesn't crumple it or anything, but he does cast a spell on it. But no: the paper throws up the ghostly image of Carey setting it down before going back to the bed and touching the side of PK's face.

The image fades before PK sees Carey leave, which is probably for the best. He grits his teeth and sits down on the couch, heavily.

Right, so Carey's gone. He probably thought he'd be back before now, but that doesn't mean much. PK knows as well as anyone that things can go weird on recon missions, and that doesn't necessarily mean something's wrong. Well, wrong enough to need PK's help, anyway.

Carey is probably fine. Also, PK thinks, he doesn't have to stay here, waiting for Carey to get back. "Don't follow" doesn't mean "don't leave".

And even if it did, PK's not sure he'd listen. Not right now.

So he leaves. He doesn't go directly to the Auror headquarters, but he does go to one of the outposts, on the northern edge of the city. Quebec City has two of these, and three offices in the city in total. It never occurred to PK before to think if that was overkill, if it was a sign of corruption. Now, it's all he can think about.

The outpost is just a little office in the Muggle part of the city. It's brown brick, like any number of anonymous buildings in the city, and sits on a street with some apartment buildings and a red-and-green painted restaurant that looks so small PK feels a little claustrophobic just glancing in the windows. He walks around the perimeter of the building twice, feeling out the spells surrounding it. It's mostly standard protective stuff; there's no sign of Carey, but then, there's also no sign that Dark magic has been used.

It's kind of a wash, overall. Though...it can't hurt, he thinks, to go in and do a little recon on his own.

Getting in is easy enough. He casts a few concealment charms and slips into the service entrance. No one so much as looks at him; security is lax in this little outpost. He debates seeing about finding their archives, but before he's made up his mind, he sees the evidence room.

There's no way he's going to pass that up. He takes a deep breath and casts a quick unlocking spell, magnitudes more powerful than Alohomora, and thus effective in an Auror office. Making sure no one's in the (dreary, institutional) hallway, he grabs the doorknob and slips inside.

The evidence room is, unsurprisingly, charmed to be a lot bigger than the space it takes up in the building. It's probably about a city block deep. That must be the main reason for these outposts, vaguely sinister though that is, considering PK doesn't think Quebec City is actually that high-crime an area.

The room is painstakingly organized, with labels on all the shelves and a directory at the front of the room. It's lit warmly by candles that sprang to life as soon as PK stepped in.

PK skims the directory. There are cursed objects, illegal Potions, and a few scraps of evidence from more serious crimes. The bulk of it is just your standard mildly Dark collection of objects, though. The magic in the room is heavy, but not particularly overbearing.

In other words, there's nothing here.

He doesn't know why he's disappointed. If he's being honest with himself, he knew he wouldn't find anything. This is a distraction so he doesn't think about all the danger Carey's in, or the fact that Carey could've gotten PK to go with him, but chose not to. He's doing his best not to think about that so his head won't explode, pretty much, and this is a really good way to do that.

He ends up leaving, because there's no sense in staying when there's obviously nothing Dark going on. He goes back to the hotel room and sits on the bed - the clean one, the one they didn't mess up. They're going to be here for awhile, long enough that PK feels like they should hide their stuff and let housekeeping in. But part of him is whispering, who's 'they'? What if Carey doesn't come back?

"He'll come back," PK says out loud. Talking to the wall isn't exactly comforting, but it's better than nothing.

But then Carey doesn't come back.

PK waits two hours - a reasonable time, he thinks - before pulling out the mirror. It feels wrong, like an invasion of privacy; still, he's an Auror, and it actually is his responsibility to keep up with his partner.

He says, "Show me Carey Price," and waits.

At first, nothing happens. Smoke is swirling in the mirror, as always, and for a second PK thinks Carey's blocked PK's tracking. Because he thinks that, he's working up a lot of both relief and anger - until the smoke clears and he sees Carey, lying on the ground in a cell, his face mottled with bruises.

For a second, PK feels like he's been Stunned. His head spins and he jerks, almost dropping the mirror. But then his crisis management hits him, and he sets the mirror down and takes a deep breath.

Carey's been taken. Okay. It's happened before, with Aurors doing the dangerous work against Dark wizards. It's something PK can deal with, because it's something he's been trained to deal with, and Aurors go into their positions with the expectation that at some point, they will actually have to use their training.

He takes another breath. He can't just storm the Auror headquarters. Doan would probably kill him; PK's good in a duel, but he's not good enough to win a duel against a Dark wizard when he has all the power of the Aurors behind him. And PK can't call for help in Quebec, because Martin is in league with Doan, and who even knows what Mortimer's doing. He could call Caro - he should call Caro - but right now he knows he won't be able to talk without panicking, so he doesn't do that, either.

He needs a plan to get Carey out of there, and he needs it yesterday. He's confident Carey can stand up to torture, but that doesn't mean Doan won't get stuff out of him. Crucio isn't the only trick Dark wizards have to make people talk.

PK stands up and goes over to Carey's bags. There are some obvious first steps here, and one of them is to make sure Carey wasn't keeping any secrets from him.

An hour later, PK's gone through all of Carey's things, physically and magically. There's nothing there. Apparently Carey took the exhortations to trust your partner seriously, aside from the whole thing where he snuck off alone.

That's kind of worse for PK. He doesn't know what to do now, except for calling Caro.

So he gets out his phone and dials her. "Hi," he says when she picks up.

"I wasn't expecting to hear from you. What's wrong?"

PK kind of wants to ask what isn't wrong, but he refrains. Instead he says, "Carey went to the Auror headquarters on his own. He's been captured."

There's a long, long silence on the other end, before Caro says, "How do you know this?"

"I saw him. He had an enchanted mirror."

"Tabarnak," Caro says, then, "Damn it. Little fool."

"I know," PK says. "I tried to tell him - anyway, now I guess I need to go in and get him."

"You really think you can do that?"

PK frowns. It sounds like a leading question. "Sure."

"Hmm," Caro says. "Well - if you're sure."

There's a lot she's not saying there, so PK says, "It'll be fine."

"You don't need to convince me," she says. "A plan would be nice, however."

"I have to do a lot before I have a plan," PK says. "Tactical evaluation. Moving hotels."

"You think he'll have given you up?"

Not in a million years - or so PK wants to believe. But he's not naive enough for that. "I think even Auror training can't tell you how you'll withstand Crucio, or Occlumency, with someone who really wants to break you. Nothing can, until it happens."

"Wise," Caro says. "You have a bloodsucker's wisdom sometimes."

That's ridiculous. PK's always been really invested in being alive, nothing like the calm detachment of the vampires. But he's not going to piss Caro off right now, so he says, "Maybe. I'll call you when I've figured out an actual plan," and hangs up.

He packs his and Carey's things. It's a simple process, and within an hour he's moved to another hotel, in a crappier part of Quebec City. After that, he has no reason not to go to the Auror headquarters.

Doan hasn't secured the headquarters well at all. It gives PK a little bit of hope, enough that he knows it's going to hurt worse if he gets caught.

He casts look-away charms and slips into the service entrance; there are several magical locks, but he dismantles them easily. The back entrance opens into a long, dark hallway. It's narrow, with drab gray doors on either side. The narrowness is a problem, PK knows, because it'll be hard to maintain enough of a look-away charm that no one notices him in the small space; so he waits until he doesn't hear anyone, and starts walking down the hallway as quickly as he can.

PK has one of Carey's socks, which isn't the world's most romantic item, but will help him find Carey. He taps it and whispers, "Reperire."

The sock tugs in his hand. He follows the tug, turning down another hallway and -

There's really a glowing sign saying "Stairs." PK's not going to argue, but it all seems too obvious. Still, if he's walking into a trap, then at least he might get Carey out of it before they both die. It's kind of a bleak thought, but it's better than Carey being tortured even more.

He goes down the stairs. They, more than anything else in the facility, are a sign that it's a Wizarding building: they're rickety and wooden, held together with enough charms that PK can feel the magic as he descends.

The basement is dark and dank. "Lumos," PK says - and jumps back, because there's a giant, sleeping lizard on a chain that really doesn't look like it'll hold it back from stopping an intruder.

He presses the tip of his wand against his shirt, the better to hide the light. In the dim shadows, he steps around the lizard carefully, watching its belly rise and fall steadily.

It doesn't seem interested in waking up and defending, though. PK makes it past the lizard and goes down yet another hallway, this one lined with moldy-looking wooden clapboard. The sock is tugging more urgently now, and PK walks at a quick clip - not fast enough to fall, but faster than he normally goes, lit wand held out in front of him.

He's passing another generic stretch of boarded-up walls when someone says hoarsely, "PK?"

PK stops and turns. All he sees is boards, but that doesn't mean much. Also, the sock is tugging so hard that he follows, taking a few steps forward and turning to his left as the sock goes limp.

"Carey?"

"Nox," PK whispers, then says, "There's a glamor. Hang on."

Finite incantatem doesn't work, but Revelare does. The boards disappear, and he sees Carey standing with his hands wrapped around the bars of his cell. He looks strangely good, though he's ragged and his eyes are bloodshot.

"You shouldn't have come here," Carey says.

PK feels, for just a moment, a bright flash of anger. But right now isn't the time for that, so he pushes it down and says as calmly as he can, "Not now. I have to get you out of here."

"They broke my wand."

Carey's voice sounds hollow. PK - PK never wanted to see Carey like this, not knowing how good Carey is at being an Auror, and surviving high-pressure situations. But really, even though he wanted away from his desk, he never wanted any of this.

He doubts it will work, but he says, "Alohomora."

The cell creaks open. Carey rushes out of it, and before PK can say anything, he grabs PK and shoves him against the far wall, kissing him hard.

PK's head is reeling, but he kisses back, clinging to Carey to remind himself that they have a chance to get out of this now. Carey kisses him like he's furious, but also like he wants this; it's a long minute before PK pulls away and says, "We have to go. I don't have a spare wand for you here."

"I'm going to get my hands on one once we're out," Carey says.

He looks so intense that for a second, PK's really glad he doesn't have a wand on him at the moment. Then Carey says, "Let's go," and grabs PK's hand.

PK casts a look-away spell, and then a silencing charm on top of that. They walk down the hallway together, Carey's hand like a vice around PK's. PK's pushed all of his feelings away - the anger, sure, but also the relief that Carey's okay, and the overwhelming need to keep him safe.

They make it past the lizard, up the stairs, and down the hall. PK thinks, for a minute, that they're going to make it out just fine; but then someone rounds a corner, looks at them, and yells, "Stop right there!"

"Now we run," Carey says, sounding grimly satisfied.

They take off at a run, down the corridor away from the guy. PK's looking for an exit, any exit, but there are none to be found, and they can't Apparate out of an Auror building. Carey's stumbling, almost, running more slowly than he normally does, and as they turn another corner, an alarm begins to sound.

PK gets an idea. It's kind of awful, but it's better than no idea at all, so he says to Carey, "Cover your ears?"

Carey does it without questioning. PK points his wand at the nearest wall and yells, "Infringo!"

It's a spell meant to clear snow or maybe blow a door off its hinges, but he says it with force and pours power into it. There's a roaring noise, and then a ripping sound that's quickly overwhelmed with crashing as the entire wall blows outward.

"Come on," PK says before the smoke's even cleared. Their assailants have stopped temporarily, thrown themselves to the ground; PK takes advantage by leading Carey out, over the rubble and into the street.

He throws his arms around Carey and they Apparate together. They arrive in the alley behind the motel where PK moved their things.

No one's around, which means PK has time to say, "Are you okay?"

"Not splinched," Carey says tightly.

PK grabs his hand again and leads them inside and up the stairs, into their room. Carey sits down heavily on the bed, staring at the faint mildew stains on the far side of the room.

"I have a spare wand," PK says, remembering what he didn't have time to say at Auror headquarters.

"They saw us," Carey says. His voice still has that awful blankness to it. "They know you're not kidnapped, too."

PK doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to suggest that Carey might've told; but he knows he has to, so he says, "Did you tell them anything?"

Carey shakes his head. "I...would have," he says. "If you'd left me there longer. But you had a chance. You had a chance, and now you don't."

PK turns and goes to get his spare wand. He hands it to Carey, but Carey takes it with a look on his face that makes PK realize what he's hearing. "Wait, are you mad at me?"

"You ruined our shot at getting Martin," Carey says.

"You just said you might've given me up anyway!"

"But now they know for sure," Carey says. "I was lying, I could've - PK, I could've cut my tongue out or killed myself, and they wouldn't have known."

He says it in that same awful, flat voice, like the thought of dying doesn't scare him at all. And they're safe here, relatively at least, so PK feels free to say, "That's awful. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm doing my job," Carey says. "You should've done yours."

"My job is to keep you safe!" PK says. "Are you serious? I'm not going to just let you die."

"Better than losing a good lead."

PK stares. "No," he says finally. "Maybe if Mortimer was about to take over Quebec, but right now? Not really."

Carey shakes his head. "I wouldn't expect you to get it," he says, and goes into the bathroom.

PK sits down heavily on the bed. He feels like an idiot. Maybe he is an idiot. Part of him is furious with Carey, and part of him is just - half-panicked, and feeling helpless.

Sleeping in the same bed that night is singularly awful. PK half hopes they can sleep together and just forget about the fight, but he knows that's not reasonable - and also, not something Carey would ever do.

The next day, they wake up and drink coffee together from the little coffee maker in the bathroom. PK showers and gets dressed, and Carey does the same. It's all incredibly mundane - except for how, at the end of it, PK says, "I'll see you sometime soon, then."

"After we see our families," Carey says.

PK's still not sure Martin won't kill them; acting like they meant to take leave, and saying someone tried to fake their kidnapping to kill them for real without being caught, seems like the kind of silly story people come up with for comic books. But Carey seems confident that it'll work, and it's a better strategy than anything else they can think of. They'll just have to regroup and find a different way to incriminate Martin.

"Well," PK says. "Goodbye."

"Bye," Carey says.

He hoists his bag awkwardly. PK takes a firm hold on his and Apparates.

He's Apparated to the Wizarding street just outside his parents' home countless times, but right now, he feels like he's been kneecapped. The familiar street, the smell of outdoor cooking in the air - even the angle of the dying summer sun makes his stomach flip over like he's grabbed a Portkey. He takes his bag and walks down the street, turning into his driveway and going up the steps.

The door's unlocked, so he lets himself in and calls, "Mom."

A glass breaks in the kitchen. He drops his bag and hurries in. Somehow, in the few seconds that takes, his mom has started crying.

"I'm sorry," he says. He had a plan - a whole script, even - but all of that's disappeared in the face of his mother, staring at him like she's looking at a ghost.

Which, to her, he probably kind of is.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I - we had to. This case, Mom, this case and our jobs, it's all -"

"Hush," she says, and grabs him, pulling him into a hug.

He lets himself lean down into her, lets her hold the back of his head and rub his back like he's four and his sisters won't stop stealing his toy broom. He's not surprised when, a minute, later, she pulls back and smacks his chest. "Never do that again."

PK doesn't say that he might have to, because he knows she knows that, and that that's not the point. Instead he says, "I'm sorry."

"I know," she says. "And I know you'll do it again, if you have to, and none of my spells will be able to track you down."

That's accurate, more or less. PK widens his eyes a little and tries to look innocent.

Finally, Mom sighs. "Are you hungry?"

"A little." He's always hungry when it comes to her cooking.

"Come into the kitchen," she says. "I just made some bread."

It's fluffy, the rosemary bread from a recipe shared with her when she and Dad first moved to Canada. She cuts PK a massive piece, and he eats it sitting at the table, with her staring at him from the kitchen counter.

She Floos his sisters and his father as he eats. PK wishes she'd chosen any other method of communication, because they cry and look upset while PK shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot and tries to tell himself that he only did what he had to.

It's true, even. But that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty.

His brothers and sisters all descend on him that night. They joke about thinking he was dead in that way that makes it painfully obvious that they meant it. PK manages to deal with it until 10, at which point he begs exhaustion and goes up to his room.

It's the first time in all of this that he's cried. And he's not sobbing; he's just tearing up and wiping at his eyes, taking deep breaths. It's too much, he can't help but think; all of this is just too much to deal with, and he has to deal with it anyway.

He doesn't sleep well that night.

Three days later, he finally contacts Carey.

He doesn't have a Floo address or anything, but PK doesn't really need that to get in contact with Carey right now: they still have their Muggle cell phones, charmed to work in magical environments. He calls Carey sitting in his bedroom at home, sheet tucked around his feet, still a little wet from his shower.

"Ten more days," he says when Carey picks up.

"I'm aware," Carey says.

He sounds - cold, PK thinks, and like he's suspicious of PK. The unfairness of it stings a little, but PK's promised himself that he's going to try, and trying involves putting up with Carey's weirdness.

"How's your family?" he says.

"They're fine. My horse was worried about me."

PK laughs, but the stony silence on the other end tells him that was a mistake. Okay, so cell phones have some downsides compared to Floo: he can't tell if Carey's angry right now or not. "Um, sorry."

"He's been my partner for a long time," Carey says. "I'd keep him in Montreal if I could."

"Because Montreal's your home now."

"It was," Carey says. "I don't...Martin might strike us dead where we stand."

"That probably won't happen," PK says. They've had this argument before, and he's sticking with his stance on it.

"Sure," Carey says. "But it could happen."

PK has no way to respond to that, so he says, "Well, at least we'll have seen our families."

Carey laughs hollowly. "At least."

They sit in silence for a minute, but PK suddenly remembers the way they fucked, which - the way things are right now, he'd really rather not think about it. So he says, "I should probably go."

"Sure," Carey says.

"But I'll talk to you later."

"Or just see you in ten days."

There's something Carey's not saying, and PK can't, for the life of him, figure out what it is. He gives up after a minute, choosing instead to say, "Yeah. One of the two for sure."

"Keep your head up, PK," Carey says, and hangs up.

PK flops sideways, staring up at his ceiling. Carey is too confusing sometimes, he thinks.

He can't very well call Carey back and demand an explanation, though, so instead he gets dressed and goes downstairs. His dad wants his help constructing charms to weather-proof the roof, and that's the kind of puzzle PK loves to try and solve. He's looking forward to it, in a mundane kind of way that has nothing to do with his life for the last couple months.

They get up to the roof, with their wands out, when Dad says, "You've spent a lot of time with your partner."

"That's the job," PK says cautiously. He doesn't want Dad to think - well, the truth, really.

"I know," Dad says. "It interests me."

PK waits, which is usually the best strategy when Dad gets like this.

"You were so sedate before," Dad says. "I would tell people my son is an Auror, and they'd want to know about your duels and arrests. It wasn't like that for you." He looks over at PK. "But my understanding is that you were happy."

"I was," PK says. "And I am now, too. I just..." He trails off trying to think of how to say it, how to explain that he was happy, but he loves actually being in the field, trying to bring justice to the world. He thinks about working with Carey and fights down the instinctive happiness, and then can't help but feel fear when he thinks of Martin and Mortimer. "With Carey, things got complicated," he says finally. "But that doesn't mean they were bad. Are bad."

"Are you going to tell us why we were told you'd been kidnapped?"

"Witnesses saw us being taken," PK says quickly. Mentally he's begging Dad not to push; he doesn't want to have to explain it. He doesn't want to have to lie.

Dad says, "I know." In those words are the weight of feelings PK doesn't want him to have - grief and anger, a mix of awful things. He wants to apologize, but he knows he can't.

Finally he just says, "Well. It won't happen again."

"I hope not," Dad says, and raises his wand.

That night, PK takes a long bath. A bath, not a shower, because his parents are sort of traditional, and PK wants the chance to think. He lies down in the magically-warmed water and closes his eyes, thinking back to his time with Carey, both being undercover and later, being on the run.

Carey's given up too easily. PK knows that. He wants to trust that Carey doesn't have any other plans, but that would require trusting Carey, and since PK just broke him out of the Auror's headquarters, he's not feeling very trusting. He doubts Carey will go after Doan again; if nothing else, the memory of Crucio should be enough to keep him away for awhile. But Martin, though older, is a lot less intimidating than Doan in some ways. He's more small-time, more of an opportunist than a leader.

Except, of course, for how he has Mortimer's spells.

PK still has the reserve of extra magic. It makes him shudder to think of how it was made, but he knows the time will come when they need to use it. He just hopes it's not soon. He wants to resolve this above the board, no more cloak and dagger stuff. For all that he went undercover and spends time in the field now, he has a very keen memory for the rules, and he does actually respect them.

He'll use them to stop this. With Carey or without him - whichever way keeps Carey safest.