"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."

- C.S. Lewis

                                                                            ***

Sirius wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been in Hell. Long enough, he supposed.

He was awakened to fight, and occasionally to die. But beyond that, Hades kept him wrapped in thick, unyielding sleep. A sleep like death, he thought, when he managed to think.

Asleep, he dreamed. Awake, he fought. And Sirius often found it difficult to distinguish between the two. Both were filled with blood and pain. Sometimes his, sometimes another's.

His dreams were dark, wicked things where Galloway delighted in his pain. Where she was a harsh, brutal creature that obeyed Hades' every wish or command and was happy to do so.

When he was allowed to float back to consciousness, the only things he knew were the sweet bliss of the Bloodlust being forced down his throat and then the ugly battles awaiting him in the arena. He fought and scraped until it was just a game and he was happy to play for blood. 

His love, his heartbreak, his rage and anguish were things separate from himself. Down in the pits, he felt nothing but the sticky blood of his opponents on his hands, on his face. He felt nothing beyond a vague doubt.

Was this really where he belonged? But he didn't know where else he was supposed to be, if not here. 

Sometimes, he thought he could hear voices calling his name. Sometimes, he thought he recognized them.

But it didn't matter.

Now, he was heavy with that enchanted sleep. Lost to the darkness from whence he'd come. 

He thought he dreamed of fingers tentatively stroking along his jaw, over his cheekbone. They trailed down the line of his nose before changing direction and brushing through his hair. The sudden realization that these hands were not here to hurt made his mind buck in confusion. He tried desperately to open his eyes. A flash of palest gold confused him.

There was no sunlight down here.

The fingers gently, cautiously traveled across his lips. Sirius tried to speak and the hand was snatched back, a ragged intake of breath the only sound. A scent tickled at his nose—one he would know sleeping or dead, whichever he was.

Sirius fought harder against the blackness that was clinging to the edges of his mind, forcing his eyes to stay closed and his thoughts to go dull.

It was like a switch had been flipped. His eyes flew open and he heaved in a startled, ragged breath as he was jerked suddenly to full-fledged consciousness. 

What little light existed speared into his corneas and his head throbbed. His mouth tasted like he'd eaten something rotted—which was entirely possible in Hell—and even the smallest movements sent pain zinging through his body like little sparks of lightning. Sirius groaned and brought his hands up to cover his face.

He'd had better hangovers on Earth. 

A small shuffling sound drew his attention and he slowly lowered his hands and looked up. Galloway was on the other side of the bars, lovely face as grave and solemn as he'd ever seen it. Her hand still hovered in the air and she bit her lip, suddenly nervous judging by how her fingers trembled.

Sirius didn't dare move. He could hardly bring himself to blink.

"I don't know if you're real," she murmured, hair flowing down past her shoulders. He loved her hair like that. It was always cut short when she was in the arena.

Sirius frowned. Was that true? When had he seen her in the arena? The blood drained from his face as another thought struck him. Had they fought there?

Had he...

Galloway made a small choking sound as he flung himself upright and she shied back when he instinctively reached out for her. Claw-tipped fingers hovering at the bars, he watched as she trembled, obviously trying to keep her fear in check.

Slowly this time, he turned fully toward her and settled himself on the stone splattered with blood. It smelled like his own, but it didn't really matter. There was no sign of her blood soaking the stone beneath them, at least.

He wrapped his fingers around the bars and leaned forward slightly. Keeping his voice soft, he said, "I don't know if I'm real either." His throat ached, like he was dying of thirst. Or like he'd been screaming.

Galloway blinked at him, pink lips parting in shock. A fierce desire to lean forward and taste those lips smashed over him, crushing him like a wave. 

All those things that had grown so dull—drowned in blood and sleep—came roaring back. Love, despair, rage. A deep, terrible longing. It took every shred of his questionable self-control not to lunge forward to touch her, even if he managed nothing more than a finger against her skin.

Even if she erupted into another fit of rage and terror and flayed him alive for it. He was fairly certain touching her would be worth whatever she unleashed on him, but it wouldn't be worth the pain it would cause her.

So Sirius swallowed hard, nearly trembling at the amount of will it took to restrain himself. She hadn't moved or said anything else. All she had to do was look at him and he was a quivering mess. 

When she continued to do nothing but stare, her grey eyes filled with doubt and longing, Sirius finally managed to pull his attention away from her. He tried to focus on his surroundings, searching for any immediate danger, but couldn't keep his eyes off of her for more than a few seconds at a time. 

As far as he could tell, they were alone. Galloway was in a cage next to his, but beyond that the cavern was a great, empty, echoing space around them. He couldn't smell anyone else aside from her, but he didn't know if that was just because there really was no one else around, or because he didn't care enough to really try.

When she moved, his eyes snapped back to her, his breath catching in his throat. But all she did was slide backward to lean against the stone wall the bars of the cage were bolted to. She didn't move away from the line of bars between them.

With a little sigh, she brought her knees up to her chest and rested her cheek on top of them. Sirius lightly touched his tongue to his bottom lip, the skin chapped and torn. He was nervous as a still-wet-behind-the-ears pup. 

There didn't seem to be anything he could say or do that wouldn't send her spiraling down into rage and hopelessness again. That last time he'd seen her was really the only thing he could remember, the memory plaguing his dreams.

Finally, the urge to be near her overwhelmed his better reasoning. Keeping his movements soft and fluid, he inched back until he was sitting next to her, resting against the warm stone.

Galloway curled into a tighter ball, but didn't move when he tilted his head to the side, resting it against the bars between them.

"How..." he trailed off when she flinched at the sound of his voice, then continued, "how long have you been down here?"

Part of him didn't want to know. He didn't want to try and deal with the guilt and grief he knew would come with her answer. 

Galloway didn't speak for a long time. Then she shrugged. "I don't know. It's easier not to try and keep track."

He translated that to mean she'd been down here long enough. Sirius' chest hollowed out, his heart aching as it was attacked by that vicious little beast called Guilt.

It was understandable that she hadn't kept track. There really was no point in keeping track of time when you thought you were never getting free. Silence descended on them again, but he was content to merely sit there and listen to the subtle sound of her breath.

It lulled him. Soothed all the ragged edges that had been cutting him to shreds since she'd been stolen. Her scent wrapped around him, bringing peace with it. Before he realized it, his eyes were falling shut again.

He was just so tired. Hades had kept him unconscious, but he'd never once let Sirius rest.

"There was a dream," she murmured, voice far away and foggy. His eyes blinked back open. She continued, "A dream that wasn't like the others. You were there. Or... or h-he was there?"

Galloway lapsed into silence again, cradling her head in her hands as she fought to make sense of what was real and what wasn't.

"I miss him," she whispered. The miserable little laugh that burst from her made him cringe. Galloway's face was hollow and desperate. "I don't know if I should talk to you. But you look real. You sound real..." She sighed. "Or Hades is just getting better at making you look like him."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest that he was real. But he supposed that's what a doppelgänger would say. 

"What do you miss?" he asked. It was probably selfish. It was definitely stupid. But he wanted to know. It was still the closest thing to a miracle he'd ever seen, the fact that she loved him.

Or... had loved him.

Sirius shifted, trying hard not to stare at her, then hissed as each muscle staged a major rebellion. Hades must have been putting him through the meat grinder if he felt this bad. A small groan escaped him.

"He fights you every day," she said, ignoring his question. "For hours. Against things even I hadn't seen before."

"Some things never change." He groaned as he stretched his legs out in front of him. "Am I any good?"

A tiny snort escaped Galloway, and a ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth in response. She shook her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. There was no clinking of chains to accompany the movement. 

The shackles were gone but in their place were scars. Two parallel bracelets of white scar tissue wrapped around her wrists.

"Don't you remember?" she asked, drawing his attention away from her marred wrists.

"He's been keeping me sedated." Sirius rolled his eyes at the conservative description. "When I'm awake, they dose me with Bloodlust. I sort of remember that I've been in the arena, but don't exactly have details."

"Why?" She frowned, quirking an eyebrow. "Why would he want to keep you out of it?"

Sirius sighed, slumping farther down against the wall. His ribs creaked in protest. Should he tell her the truth, he wondered. Would she believe him?

"Because if I was awake I'd have time to plan how to get you out of here," he finally rasped. Even if she didn't believe him, he needed to tell her the truth.

He had so many lies to make up for where she was concerned.

Galloway shifted, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. Her hands shook.

"Yeah," she said finally, voice cracking. "Yeah, you're good. Not like the usual riffraff he throws to his beasts. You even move like he does." She fiddled with a strand of hair. "Did you... did you know him?"

Sirius crossed his arms to keep from reaching for that strand of hair she was unknowingly teasing him with. Pain throbbed through his shoulders, radiating down his back and arms.

"You could say that," he responded dryly.

Galloway bit at her lip and he had to choke on a groan. His attention was riveted on her mouth, and she scowled at him for it. She started to shift away and he didn't even think about it. His hand shot through the bars of its own accord and he grabbed her wrist.

His thumb brushed over the scars there. She wasn't as warm as he remembered her being, making his heart stutter with something like fear. 

How long had they been wearing her down? How much of her Soul was even left at this point. Sirius was afraid to look—the idea that she might be missing something terrified him. Any proof of that would surely kill something in him too, and he had so little to start with.

When he realized what he'd done, he froze. The last time he'd dared to touch her had nearly sent her over the edge. He brought his eyes up to meet hers to find them wide, terror flashing over her face. But all she did was squeeze her eyes shut. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to master her fear.

His stomach heaved in sympathetic grief.

"I don't know if you're real," she whispered again. "Are you real?"

"I know that you are." He gently laced his fingers through hers. "I know you."

Tears welled in her eyes, her fingers tightening around his. A shudder ran through her body and she leaned forward. Like an opposite magnet he was drawn forward as well, her pull on him as strong as it had ever been—even with all the time they'd been apart.

He sucked in a startled breath when she reached through the bars. Spell-bound, he didn't move a muscle as her fingers ghosted over his face. They left streaks of warmth along his cheekbone, down the side of his jaw.

Sirius exhaled slowly when she touched his mouth.

"Mint," she murmured. "You... smell like mint."

All he could do was blink like an idiot. His heart thudded against his ribs as she came closer, pressing against the bars between them. Her fingers grazed along his cheek again, making his eyes fall half-closed with pleasure when she brushed them through his hair.  

He started in surprise when her hand snaked around to the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin as she jerked him against the bars. The metal barked against his cheekbone, but he didn't try to pull away.

"Are you here to hurt me?" she said, her voice dull, almost resigned.

"Would you believe me if I said no?" Sirius dug his claws into his palms in an effort to keep from grabbing her.

"I want to." Her grip on him loosened minutely. "But I can't. Because I did that once and it nearly destroyed me."

"You destroyed me," he said quietly.

Surprise flashed deep in her irises and her hand slipped away from the back of his neck. Biting her lip, she sat back on her heels.

"When you died, it destroyed me," he continued, desperate to try anything that would bring her back to him. Even something that might hurt her.

It would be worth it, he convinced himself. If it brings her back to me, it'll be worth it.

"What do you know about when I died?" Galloway's tone took on a dangerous edge.

He forced himself to meet eyes that were suddenly glowing silver with rage. He made sure to keep his voice quiet, submissive even, as he said, "I know Theron was responsible. I know the Hellhounds that tore you to shreds." Tears blurred his vision as he relived that night for the millionth time. "I found you in a pool of blood and couldn't breathe. It hurt more than anything I'd ever felt. At first I didn't know what it was."

Sirius had never felt grief before. 

"It felt so much like fear," he said hoarsely. "I thought it was just terror that made me collapse. That made me choke."

"Felt like fear?" she asked, less harsh than a moment ago. Now confusion reigned.

Sirius' mouth twitched at the corner. "You broke something inside me."

"I broke—" she started, emotions lunging so quickly toward outrage it caught him off guard. Galloway's hands curled into claws and she looked moments away from scratching out his eyes. "There's nothing in you to break," she spat venomously.

Sirius leaned forward, resting his forehead against the bars, exhausted. "That used to be true," he said. "And then I met a Collector who was a Hunter, and have been totally and completely screwed ever since."

Uneasy silence spread between them as she stared blankly at him, and he began to pray she would be able to see.

He almost laughed at himself. What was he even supposed to pray to? The only god that would answer was the one who had put them both here to begin with.

"What was the thing that felt like fear?" she asked, the words clipped.

Sirius heaved a sigh. "Sorrow. Or grief. Or whatever you call it. That thing you feel when something you love is ripped away from you. Guilt." He shook his head. "Mostly guilt. I..."

"You what?" These words hit him like a whip.

Vision blurring again, he said, "It's my fault. You're here because of me."

The confession didn't bring any relief. But he owed it to her. He owed her that truth.

Galloway burst out laughing, a crowing, wicked thing that scraped against his heart. She shook her head, blonde hair rippling around her face. She laughed again. "That feels pretty authentically like Sirius," she said. "Somehow everything was always about him. His fault. What he wanted. His suffering."

She smiled, then lashed out, raking her nails down his cheek.

Blood trickled down his face and she lunged forward against the bars. "It was never his fucking fault," she snarled. "He didn't kill me. He loved me."

Hope speared though him, so bright it was painful.

"You can go now," she said sweetly. "Report to Hades that another cheap knockoff screwed up."

Sirius glanced at the locked door. Then he used the back of his hand to scrub the blood from his face. "Can't," he said.

Galloway gave him a blank look, then stood and shouted, "Jig is up, you bastard! I played and I won. So take him away."

Her words echoed around them, and when she turned back to him, Sirius looked around dramatically when nothing happened. Then he shrugged. "Guess that's a no, then."

"Oh look, one of you finally found his sense of humor," she hissed. "I still know you're not the real thing."

"I am," he said wearily. 

"Then prove it," she shot back. "You can't, but go ahead and try anyway. Sometimes it's actually kind of funny and God knows I could use a laugh."

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for something he could say that would prove his point. Searching for something only he would know.

A smirk taunted him and he couldn't hold his damn tongue.

"You like when I bite," he purred. "If you weren't afraid I'd ruin the upholstery, you'd make it a point to have me in every one of your fancy cars."

Galloway paled, then recovered and scoffed. "Not good enough. They know what I like too."

"You only like pancakes that have been drowned in syrup," he continued. "You like bourbon, not scotch. You think it tastes like dirt. You bite your lip when you're uncertain, or about to say something you shouldn't." He smiled. "You bite it after you've already said something you shouldn't."

Like she was trying to prove his point, her teeth sank into her lower lip.

"Every time you bite your lip," he breathed, "I've been dying to do it myself."

A shocked breath shuddered out of her. Her eyes were still shadowed with doubt.

Sirius never got the chance to dispel it.

Black smoke exploded around them and Galloway screamed, the ear-shattering sound making him crash against the bars between them, reaching for her.

The smoke cleared, taking Galloway with it. Sirius roared and slammed his hands into the side of the cage, making the bars rattle.

"Don't say I never did anything for you," Hades' voice whispered in his ear.

The door to his cage clicked open and images filled his mind, directing him to a place that filled him with sick dread.

"I would hurry if I were you." An oily laugh brushed across his skin.

Sirius bolted out of the cage, running hard.