grave digging; open

It was January now, the busy bustle of the holidays had come and gone, and once again Jesse found himself lost in a bottle of whisky. This year would mark the fifth year since Alisha's passing, and five years since he lost his child. Time had made it easier to deal with the grief, but every January Jesse found himself plagued by the what-ifs. What if she hadn't been in that store? What would his baby have looked like? It would have been four years old this year, he wondered what gifts they would have bought for Christmas. Imagined waking up early by the joyous laughter of a child, so excited to open presents. Imagined sitting on the sofa of his flat with Alisha under his arm as they watched with happy faces as their little one opened the gifts from Santa. So many what-ifs, and so many should-have-beens... The very thoughts had made him feel sick, a deep ache in his stomach. Most people might cry, curl in a ball and sob when that kind of hurt hit them, but not Jesse. Instead he had grabbed a bottle of whisky from his liquor cabinet, sat on the couch, and drank it away.


The hours passed by and the light that had been pouring into his flat had waned until only the the moon cast any light. Jesse swallowed the last of what was in the bottle, and sat in the deafening silence of the large condo. It was a terrible thing, that sort of silence. The only sound he could hear was the beating of his chest and the dim nagging of her memory. In his drunken state he found the urge to see her, to go to her grave and tell her to leave him alone, tell her that he was sorry he couldn't save her, and tell her that he missed her. With no logical thinking left in his chemically altered brain, Jesse snatched another bottle from his cabinet and headed to Godric's Hallow where Alisha had been laid to rest.

Jesse stumbled down the quiet street, mumbling to himself, stopping occasionally to dance to a song only he could hear. Despite the deep, black pit of grief that laid waste to his stomach the liquor was doing it's job and he felt more chipper than he had in his condo. He was typically a very happy drunk and the whisky tried hard to bring it out in him now, but it was hard with Alisha and the baby on his mind. As he approached the church his dancing ceased. He stood there for a moment, wobbly and drunk, looking at the building and trying to recall the last time he had been there. Oh, right. Her funeral. With two fingers he saluted the statue out front, "Jesus, how's it goin', mate?" Stumbling back a few steps he took the bottle to his lips, taking a large gulp before making his way to the cemetery.

It took a moment for Jesse to figure out what exactly he was seeing as he entered the grave yard, he blinked hard trying to get the blur from his eyes. There was a woman, quite small in stature, seeming to be disturbing a grave. He stood there, confused and wobbly, watching as she rose the coffin from the ground before flinging it open revealing a badly burned body. Jesse's bright blue eyes were wide, his face had disbelief drawn all over it, for a moment he considered swearing off the drink for good. What in the world was this woman up to? He reached into the pocket of his jeans and grabbed his wand out with his free hand. The woman scoffed at him coolly and he scoffed back, somewhat comically. "Oi-" he slurred "I'm not sure if you're aware, yeah? But it's not typical to be digging up graves in the wee hours of the night! "

Jesse's drunken state had left him vulnerable, not that he gave two shits. That part of his brain was shut down, way down, by the whisky in his gut and the bottle in his hand. If she wanted to fight him he would likely be killed, or injured severely. He would attempt to fight back, though the spells would likely fizzle out at the end of his wand as his slurred speech and lack of concentration wouldn't be much help in the way of casting. He hadn't been anticipating a fight, let alone another person at the graveyard at such an early hour. Still, his first instinct had been to draw his wand at the sight of the woman. "Well," he shrugged animatedly, "I'd offer you a drink, mate, if I had a feckin' cup. But if you'd like the bottle I'd be happy to share." Jesse held out the bottle of whisky he had taken from his flat, he lowered his wand hand as if to say he was standing down.

"Hey, I like a woman with some experience," he winked at her with a smile. Jesse's vision was somewhat blurry from the drink, as he stumbled toward her a few steps he could see that she was quite beautiful, in a wicked sort of way. She was older than he but the intent she held in her eyes was sexy, at least to his drunk ass it was. "No, beautiful, we don't have to fight. But I can think of other fun F words we can do." Jesse chuckled at his slurred words. He wasn't as suave drunk, but still his flirtatious attitude couldn't be subdued with any amount of whisky. It hadn't even occurred to him that she was threatening him.

The woman before him laid her story of lies about digging up the grave, even in his drunken state he could deduce that it wasn't true, but he didn't really care if it was. Hell, he wasn't even really sure if this was happening. It could have all been a drunken dream he was having on his couch, he most likely wouldn't remember this encounter in the morning. That is, unless he woke up with the scars to prove it's existence. But even then, if he woke up bruised and bloody he'd likely spend half his morning trying to recall how it had happened. Most likely to no avail. "Uh-huh," he nodded at her story, "Right, I dig up my family members all the time. No big deal." His sarcastic tone was both comical and abrasive. "I suppose we're not typical. This whole thing isn't typical, is it?" He gestured to their surroundings, the graveyard in the middle of the night, the open grave behind her.

The liquor dulled many things for Jesse, but his fighting instincts had always been strong regardless of how sober (or not) he was. He couldn't help but notice her steady watch on his hand as it lowered, and the way her hand held her own. It was clear that he needed to approach the situation with caution, the woman had the upper hand and it would appear that she was quite a skilled dueler. If he wasn't tactful he would likely end up in a hairy situation. Now, if only he could convince his mouth to head with caution as well. She had laughed at his comments, joking back herself. Jesse couldn't help but smile at her sexy little laugh. "Well, y'know" he shrugged again, "It helps. But I'd like to think I've got some big ones."

Raina returned the bottle to him after taking some for herself. It wasn't enough to dull her to his level, but it was a start! Jesse toasted before taking another large drink for himself. She had surprised him, though, as she flirted back slightly joking about taking him up on the F word fun. For a moment there he had figured himself a dead man walking. "Are you asking me out?" he joked flirtatiously, stumbling to the side. Oh, that last drink may have been a mistake. "No, um, that is very creepy. Plus," feigning a whisper he guarded his mouth with the back of his hand, "I'm sort of here to see my ex, so...y'know. That might get weird too."

A bit of an over-share, but he figured he owed it to her since she had admitted to digging up her sister's grave. It really was a strange sight, the coffin just laying a few feet away. Jesse had never seen a coffin until Alisha's burial and he had hoped to never see another one. So much for that now. "Hey," he raised his full hands in innocence, the woman's defensive stance was more pronounced now, but he hadn't seem to care. His face was still tacked with the curl of a half smile. "You want to dig her up, she's your sister. But I'm not helping you re-bury her ass." Jesse jested, taking another drink from his bottle lowering both hands as he finished. The whisky made it hard for him to be serious, that and the fact that he was not a very serious person. The tall figured man wobbled as he spoke, shooting her another wink. "Unless there's something in it for me."