Part of this fic (http://scribe-protra.dreamwidth.org/306.html?thread=375346#cmt375346) won't get out of my head: "You should have come to me... Instead of that Faerie Queen. ... You should have been mine"
AU where Harry sells himself to Marcone instead of Mab. I want to see what happens when the immediate crisis situations in Changes are resolved: Harry and Maggie are both healthy and safe from the Red Court, which may or may not have been exterminated. Harry belongs to Marcone now - what happens and how does he deal with it? Hoping for both serious exploration of the issues and smut.
I lay on my stomach in what might be the most comfortable bedroom I've ever seen, for the brief glance I'd taken. Between recent injuries, total exhaustion, overuse of soulfire and magic in general, and grief, I didn't have the strength to so much as open my eyes. If there was any part of me, physical or otherwise, that didn't hurt I couldn't tell what it was.
I'd managed to hold off collapse long enough to see a housekeeper or something sweep Maggie off to bed. It had been a housekeeper, right? Even Marcone couldn't have managed to get a nanny yet, could he? Did she need one? Did I need one? Stars and Stones, what was I going to do? But then it clearly wasn't up to me.
In the aftermath of the battle I'd barely even started flailing for somewhere to go, somewhere to take her, when Gard had used small words to point out that we were already on our way back to Marcone's mansion. She'd almost been gentle. And then there had been the doctors, and the nanny, and this room, with it's freaking oil lamps and fireplace, and deep rugs, and bookshelves, and big enough bed and how the Hell long has he been planning this? And why couldn't I make myself care, really? He hadn't caused any of my recent losses, anyway, I'd always been able to manage those just fine on my own. Susan. Oh god, Susan.
I heard the door open, but didn't move. Everything in this house, myself now very much included, belonged to him, and he was protective of his things. I was safe. How fucked up was that?
Silence stretched out as someone - three guesses who - stood in the doorway watching me. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back, as heavy as a blanket. I wasn't going to move. I was not going to show any response. Anything that needed to be said, needed to be done, it could all wait for the morning. I kept my breath even and pretended to be asleep.
That had to be plausible, right? It had been a long day.
He moved into the room just about silently. Those had been really nice rugs, and Marcone's not exactly clumsy. I could tell where he was, though. The feel of his presence was unmistakeably, unavoidable. I wasn't really sure if my magic was just that raw and sensitive to another person's aura, or if it was an aftereffect of the bindings we'd done, peculiar to him. It could be permanent.
It wasn't - unpleasant. Knowing I wasn't alone. A tactical advantage, maybe. He'd never be able to sneak up on me like this.
He sat down on the side of the bed. Without that weird sense of him, I'd have flinched, would have given myself away. As it was I kept still, even as his hand fell lightly onto my back. He drifted it slowly, avoiding the bandages, until it came to rest between my shoulder blades, his thumb rubbing softly on my spine. It was oddly peaceful. I tried to remember the last time anyone had touched me other than to inflict or repair injuries. Had Susan-?
Mercifully my mind cut that thought off and reached desperately for any other. The belated realization that Marcone's thumb was caressing the exact spot where my spine had broken turned out to be distraction enough for the moment.
I shivered, once, but it was much too late to fight or run and the pretense of sleep was the only way to hide. And I was so tired. He stilled, his hand lifting off me. Waiting to see if I woke up? I shivered again; I couldn't help it. And then he reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled a blanket up over me.
My breath caught, and my eyes flew open in suprise.
He was looking right at my face; there was no hope I wasn't busted. On the other hand, his quickly aborted movement away from me said he was busted too. I would have said John Marcone never looked guilty as a matter of policy, and he didn't now, quite. But almost.
Thanks everyone for your responses, I really appreciate it. I've being checking this kinkmeme twice a day since it started, and decided it was about time I did my part.
Why guilty? For the indentured servitude he'd backed me into? For coming into the room uninvited, touching me? He'd been working for the first since day one, and this was not my room, not really. Not my home, not my decision. He could do what he wanted with me; I'd already agreed. All I'd held back was a refusal to fight against my friends, and he probably wouldn't have made me do that anyway: they knew my weaknesses.
One of his hands fell back from the blanket to his thigh, but the other hovered in the air for a moment in uncharacteristic indecision. I waited. He let out a breath and reached up to cup my cheek. Warm fingers spread on my ear and hinge of my jaw. His thumb swiping carefully under my eye. Oh. I'd been crying. When had that happened?
"My most sincere condol-" He started, before I cut him off sharply, my voice wilder than I might have hoped. "No, no please, I can't- Please." Finally, finally I managed to jerk back away from his touch. Because this is my life, I regretted it instantly.
Agony flared up from my shattered wrist, my turned ankle, the deep gash in the side of back where a sword thrust had been slown down by my coat only enough to lodge in my ribs instead of going through them like paper. Damn, damn, damn. I hissed out pain and his hands were right back, easing me into my former position.
I'd accepted the doctor's pills because I couldn't sleep while using Lash's technique to turn off pain, but now I was robbed of the focus necessary to use that technique, the pain hadn't been killed, and I wasn't asleep anyway. And I was badly handicapped in the battle of wits that so often came with Marcone's company.
Not that it mattered. I'd already lost, I reminded myself. And I was safe; he wouldn't risk breaking me. He used people, sure, to destruction if needed. But only if needed, and not before he'd gotten his money's worth from them. I'd been expensive. At least six of his men's lives, the injuries to more, whatever he'd traded for my healing, the debt I owed Mab that he'd absorbed with my allegiance. I was valuable to him.
God, I'd gotten those men killed. I didn't even know their names.
This is beautiful. I love how you wave the words to create such bittersweet images of Harry's state of mind and how easily you fit the backstory to this AU with what he's feeling and experiencing with John in the room.
The pain had receded a little. He was carding his fingers through my hair and talking softly. It was nice. Soothing. I'm not usually very receptive to being soothed, but under the circumstances... I'd allow it. The intimacy of this and his earlier gesture was only just sinking in, but then we'd shared a greater intimacy the first time we met. I'd thrown up walls as hard and harsh as I could ever since, but the very effort it had taken undermined them, needing constant renewal. Without the insults and aggravation we tended to slide naturally into alliance. Now the walls seemed to be entirely gone and I wondered if it left him as off balance as it did me.
Could be; talking to fill the silence wasn't something Marcone usually did.
"-considering giving them hazard pay, I didn't quite believe your medical examiner about it actually being a very small and discolored cougar-" caught my attention.
"Wait, go back, what did you say?" Possibly I should be less peremptory to my new lord and master. Screw it. He knew what I was like when he bought me.
He raised an eyebrow, but answered mildly. "We found your cat. Well, that behemoth you call a dog found your cat, but some of my men drove and got the ungrateful animal into a carrier. They're on their way back now."
Oh.
That explained where Mouse was, anyway. The rest of what he said didn't make any sense, but of course Mouse would want to find Mister as soon as possible. He'd mentioned Butters, who'd been here earlier with the other doctors to offer his expert knowledge of my unique medical needs, but had gladly passed off actual treatment to the living-person specialists. It had taken hours.
It made sense that Marcone would have talked to him, and I could kind of see Butters launching into a Crime Lord/Baron of Chicago induced nervous ramble, which could easily have included Mister. That Marcone had sent goons out at God knows what time of night to find a missing cat was...unexpected. I'd consider the thought that this was actually a dream, but people don't do nice things for me in my dreams.
"I'll have him put in your sitting room, I don't want him jumping on you in your current condition." No, that would be very bad. The sitting room I'd barely seen at all, getting a hazy impression of more bookshelves and an expensive couch. It was about to get less expensive; Mister was probably really pissed off by now. Well, that was something.
"why..?" escaped before I could think better of it. What was he doing? Marcone was good at enlightened self-interest. My health and relative sanity were very much his concern: I was no good to him broken. But this? This wasn't...I didn't know what to do with this. Kindness wasn't part of the deal. I hadn't know it was a possibility.
I was grateful. I was achingly, pathetically grateful. For Mister on his way back to me, for Mouse treated respectfully, for the blanket pulled over me, for the soft light of the oil lamp. For the little girl asleep down the hall. I just didn't understand.
"He'll jostle your injuries." Okay, that clearly hadn't been the question I was asking. I opened my mouth to start an argument, and nearly had a heart attack when Hendricks cleared his throat from the doorway.
Apparently, this sensing people thing only applied to John.
Who looked over at Hendricks with a frown. He hadn't jumped, the bastard.
"That report you wanted is ready." Hendricks said impassively.
"Thank you, I'll be there in a moment." Hendricks didn't move. His gaze flickered to me for a instant, then went back to Marcone. They looked at each other for a second. "That will be all." He left. Marcone took his hand out of my hair, stood up and looked at me for a little while longer. I wished I had understood any of the conversation that had obviously just happened.
Alert Readers might notice that the spot Marcone was rubbing in chapter 2 was not where Harry was injured in the book. This is because my AU branched earlier, during their meeting. Chaos Butterfly ripples of change radiated out from there, one result of which was that Harry fell in a slightly different position, was paralysed at the bottom of his neck rather than near his waist. Yes. And I certainly didn't misremember anything. Also, to be clear, I'm assuming that this prompt is intrinsically dub-con in nature, for future reference. Onward!
I did fall asleep soon after that, and woke in the early afternoon. There was a gratifyingly large tray of food on the bedside table, all of it convenient for someone with one working hand and no inclination to turn over. The water and juice had sippy cup lids, which was embarassing, but ultimately necessary. I devoured everything.
About half an hour later a maid stuck her head in and seemed relived to see me awake. I let her help me to the bathroom and firmly insisted that I could take it from there. She tried arguing that she had nurses' training and had seen it before, but there are just some things a man has to do on his own, is my opinion.
By the time I acknowledged to myself that I wasn't going to make it back to bed on my own and called her for help, there was more food, and also a lawyer. Apparently there was a whole big legal mess. First of all, Maggie's birth certifiate didn't have my name on it. I had to sign some things to get a paternity test. I had to sign some things to apply for custody. I had to sign some things to change my legal residence. I had to sign some things to...I don't even know, I was tired, okay? I just signed things.
And this was all apart from the FBI investigation. John came down explain our official story himself, clearing out everyone but Hendricks, who wandered over to examine a shelf of books.
The story was basically, that a drug cartel had kidnapped Maggie to use as leverage to force John to make - Gasp!- illegal deals. Then they'd kidnapped me and Susan as well, right out of the FBI building. They'd tortured me and murdered her. He'd eyed me at this point, and I'd looked away, trying to read the spine of the books Hendricks was by. What was he so interested in?
Thanks in part to the totally coincidental chaos that errupted in Latin America, our captors had been spotted by the people Marcone had looking for us, and Maggie and I had been rescued. The captors had gotten away. Darn. No one had been in Mexico. I'd been take to Marcone's house due to my deathly and well documented fear of hospitals.
Why had Maggie been a hostage against John? Why were we moving in with him? Because a little while after I'd been banned from working with SI, he'd asked me out. We'd been romantically involved ever since. News to me.
It made sense, I guess. For one thing, the feds were never going to believe that a two-bit con artist of a private detective could be the object of enough enmity to get buildings blown up, burned down, and attacked in broad daylight by people willing to assault an FBI headquarters. There just weren't any mundane explanations for how I could be that important on my own. So my importance was a connection to someone else.
For Gentleman Johnny the whole thing was a somewhat plausible gang war, put down with his usual lethal efficiency. With him undeniably involved they were bound to consider him either the perpetrator or the intended target of the violence. This was a reasonable way he could be presented as the target. And enough juicy gossip would cover a lot of the gaping holes in our story.
If anything happened to me, this would give him grounds to keep Maggie.
The proposed timing meant that while Murphy was definitely fired, all of her old cases, and other peoples' cases, probably wouldn't get raked over hot coals. Murphy had known for years that I was going to get her fired someday: look what involvement with me had done to her career already. She was frustrated with me about Marcone, but she understood why I did it, and had finally beaten it into my skull that she'd made her own damn choices. Maybe she'd take up the Sword permanently. Michael would say that where God closes a door He opens a window. I say it sucks.
My fake relationship with Thomas the hairdresser had been spread around enough in the police department that they would believe I was gay. Bi. Whatever. John just didn't have open relationships, the time I'd walked in on him and Helen had been the only real proof that he actually-
"Helen Beckett can never, ever be anywhere near Maggie."
He blinked at the non sequitur, but switched tracks willing enough. "No, that's true. I'm thinking of finding her a job outside the city. Perhaps on the west coast."
"Will she go?"
"I'll be persuasive." Normally I'm not in favor of Marcone being persuasive.
"Okay." Okay. I tried to get my breathing back under control. Hell's bells, that had been a bad thought. She'd been willing to sell him out to the Denarians, what would she do when she found out he'd just acquired a step-daughter, for all intents and purposes, when her daughter had been lost because of him? Should I tell him about the Denarians? See what happens with her first. Different topic.
"The kidnappers got away, huh? You're slipping."
"There's a human trafficking ring that's been irritating me. I'll cooperate with the investigation in their direction."
Nice. The FBI could pretend to believe that we were the innocent victims of genuinely bad people, in exchange for which they could arrest said bad people and rescue some of their actual victims. Or they could waste everyone's time, energy, and money trying to convict us of doing something to the psychopaths who'd killed a bunch of their coworkers and endangered the public, and neither arrest nor rescue anyone. I wonder what they'd pick.
I bet the organized crime departments here in Chicago catch a lot of shit from their colleagues in other cities.
He was clearly still waiting for me to pitch a fit about the relationship thing.
"Isn't it going to look bad that we're in separate rooms?"
"Not while you're this badly injured, and by the time you've recovered the investigation will be over."
"Even though, you know, this has clearly been my room for a while? Why is that? I could have sworn I'd never been to your house except for that time Rover nearly ate you."
"You were living elsewhere because you value your privacy and need your own space. And it's a guest room. Any magically powerful person would be comfortable here." Which was both true and bullshit: guests don't need bookshelves. Not this many. I itched for them, wanting to get a better look at what was there and mourning treasure companions. Honestly, what was Hendricks looking at?
Actually, why was he here? Didn't he have better things to do? Even Marcone couldn't be paranoid enough to need a bodyguard to wander around his own house. I may not have a real good record of restrained good manners around the man, but at the moment the worst I could do is fall out of bed in his general direction. He could pin me to the ground in two seconds flat. So why bring Hendricks along?
John took my distraction as grounds to move the conversation back where he wanted it.
"Shall I take it you have no overwhelming objections to this? Is there anything you need clarified?"
"I reserve the right to be pissed off when I can never have a girlfriend again."
"Noted."
Not that I really could have anyway. What do I have to offer someone? Come share a crime lord's guest bedroom? I'll probably get you killed?
"You know, when I was pretending to be Thomas' boyfriend, he gave me free coffee. I think I'm going to insist on the coffee." There hadn't been any yet, and if there had I might have been able to focus better.
This was met by silence. Hendricks actually turned around to look at me. Then looked at John's stone face and turned quickly back away.
Hi. I'm not sure what to do. The prompt I'm responding to pretty much hinges on John fixing Harry's paralysis, which is obviously a difficult issue which many people here feel strongly about. I don't want to hurt or offend anyone, and certainly I would intend to handle the subject as sensitively as I can, but maybe I should just discontinue the fic. I'm not even sure if this example is as much of an issue for people, since Harry really isn't paralyzed long enough for it to become part of his identity. In the book he seems pretty much to regard it as an obstacle: I can't get to Maggie like this, so I need to get it fixed. I elaborate on my plans here in the discussion meme: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/216205.html?thread=4059533#t4059533 Please respond there. Be aware that I will take any personal attacks at anyone for any reason as confirmation that I shouldn't continue. Thank you everyone who has liked the story so far.
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timeasmymeasure
AU to Changes
Date: 2011-03-13 03:38 am (UTC)"You should have come to me... Instead of that Faerie Queen. ... You should have been mine"
AU where Harry sells himself to Marcone instead of Mab. I want to see what happens when the immediate crisis situations in Changes are resolved: Harry and Maggie are both healthy and safe from the Red Court, which may or may not have been exterminated. Harry belongs to Marcone now - what happens and how does he deal with it? Hoping for both serious exploration of the issues and smut.
Re: AU to Changes
Date: 2011-03-13 04:08 am (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 1/?
Date: 2011-03-13 09:57 pm (UTC)I'd managed to hold off collapse long enough to see a housekeeper or something sweep Maggie off to bed. It had been a housekeeper, right? Even Marcone couldn't have managed to get a nanny yet, could he? Did she need one? Did I need one? Stars and Stones, what was I going to do? But then it clearly wasn't up to me.
In the aftermath of the battle I'd barely even started flailing for somewhere to go, somewhere to take her, when Gard had used small words to point out that we were already on our way back to Marcone's mansion. She'd almost been gentle. And then there had been the doctors, and the nanny, and this room, with it's freaking oil lamps and fireplace, and deep rugs, and bookshelves, and big enough bed and how the Hell long has he been planning this? And why couldn't I make myself care, really? He hadn't caused any of my recent losses, anyway, I'd always been able to manage those just fine on my own. Susan. Oh god, Susan.
Maybe I'll care about the room in the morning.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 2/?
Date: 2011-03-13 11:44 pm (UTC)Silence stretched out as someone - three guesses who - stood in the doorway watching me. I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back, as heavy as a blanket. I wasn't going to move. I was not going to show any response. Anything that needed to be said, needed to be done, it could all wait for the morning. I kept my breath even and pretended to be asleep.
That had to be plausible, right? It had been a long day.
He moved into the room just about silently. Those had been really nice rugs, and Marcone's not exactly clumsy. I could tell where he was, though. The feel of his presence was unmistakeably, unavoidable. I wasn't really sure if my magic was just that raw and sensitive to another person's aura, or if it was an aftereffect of the bindings we'd done, peculiar to him. It could be permanent.
It wasn't - unpleasant. Knowing I wasn't alone. A tactical advantage, maybe. He'd never be able to sneak up on me like this.
He sat down on the side of the bed. Without that weird sense of him, I'd have flinched, would have given myself away. As it was I kept still, even as his hand fell lightly onto my back. He drifted it slowly, avoiding the bandages, until it came to rest between my shoulder blades, his thumb rubbing softly on my spine. It was oddly peaceful. I tried to remember the last time anyone had touched me other than to inflict or repair injuries. Had Susan-?
Mercifully my mind cut that thought off and reached desperately for any other. The belated realization that Marcone's thumb was caressing the exact spot where my spine had broken turned out to be distraction enough for the moment.
I shivered, once, but it was much too late to fight or run and the pretense of sleep was the only way to hide. And I was so tired. He stilled, his hand lifting off me. Waiting to see if I woke up? I shivered again; I couldn't help it. And then he reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled a blanket up over me.
My breath caught, and my eyes flew open in suprise.
He was looking right at my face; there was no hope I wasn't busted. On the other hand, his quickly aborted movement away from me said he was busted too. I would have said John Marcone never looked guilty as a matter of policy, and he didn't now, quite. But almost.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 2/?
Date: 2011-03-14 12:24 am (UTC)(Harry does too, by the way. He needs them!)
Re: AU to Changes FILL 2/?
Date: 2011-03-14 12:40 am (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 2/?
Date: 2011-03-14 05:44 am (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 2/?
Date: 2011-03-14 06:48 am (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 3/?
Date: 2011-03-14 05:31 pm (UTC)Why guilty? For the indentured servitude he'd backed me into? For coming into the room uninvited, touching me? He'd been working for the first since day one, and this was not my room, not really. Not my home, not my decision. He could do what he wanted with me; I'd already agreed. All I'd held back was a refusal to fight against my friends, and he probably wouldn't have made me do that anyway: they knew my weaknesses.
One of his hands fell back from the blanket to his thigh, but the other hovered in the air for a moment in uncharacteristic indecision. I waited. He let out a breath and reached up to cup my cheek. Warm fingers spread on my ear and hinge of my jaw. His thumb swiping carefully under my eye. Oh. I'd been crying. When had that happened?
"My most sincere condol-" He started, before I cut him off sharply, my voice wilder than I might have hoped. "No, no please, I can't- Please." Finally, finally I managed to jerk back away from his touch. Because this is my life, I regretted it instantly.
Agony flared up from my shattered wrist, my turned ankle, the deep gash in the side of back where a sword thrust had been slown down by my coat only enough to lodge in my ribs instead of going through them like paper. Damn, damn, damn. I hissed out pain and his hands were right back, easing me into my former position.
I'd accepted the doctor's pills because I couldn't sleep while using Lash's technique to turn off pain, but now I was robbed of the focus necessary to use that technique, the pain hadn't been killed, and I wasn't asleep anyway. And I was badly handicapped in the battle of wits that so often came with Marcone's company.
Not that it mattered. I'd already lost, I reminded myself. And I was safe; he wouldn't risk breaking me. He used people, sure, to destruction if needed. But only if needed, and not before he'd gotten his money's worth from them. I'd been expensive. At least six of his men's lives, the injuries to more, whatever he'd traded for my healing, the debt I owed Mab that he'd absorbed with my allegiance. I was valuable to him.
God, I'd gotten those men killed. I didn't even know their names.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 3/?
Date: 2011-03-14 07:34 pm (UTC)wonderfully written.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 4/?
Date: 2011-03-16 05:40 pm (UTC)Could be; talking to fill the silence wasn't something Marcone usually did.
"-considering giving them hazard pay, I didn't quite believe your medical examiner about it actually being a very small and discolored cougar-" caught my attention.
"Wait, go back, what did you say?" Possibly I should be less peremptory to my new lord and master. Screw it. He knew what I was like when he bought me.
He raised an eyebrow, but answered mildly. "We found your cat. Well, that behemoth you call a dog found your cat, but some of my men drove and got the ungrateful animal into a carrier. They're on their way back now."
Oh.
That explained where Mouse was, anyway. The rest of what he said didn't make any sense, but of course Mouse would want to find Mister as soon as possible. He'd mentioned Butters, who'd been here earlier with the other doctors to offer his expert knowledge of my unique medical needs, but had gladly passed off actual treatment to the living-person specialists. It had taken hours.
It made sense that Marcone would have talked to him, and I could kind of see Butters launching into a Crime Lord/Baron of Chicago induced nervous ramble, which could easily have included Mister. That Marcone had sent goons out at God knows what time of night to find a missing cat was...unexpected. I'd consider the thought that this was actually a dream, but people don't do nice things for me in my dreams.
"I'll have him put in your sitting room, I don't want him jumping on you in your current condition." No, that would be very bad. The sitting room I'd barely seen at all, getting a hazy impression of more bookshelves and an expensive couch. It was about to get less expensive; Mister was probably really pissed off by now. Well, that was something.
"why..?" escaped before I could think better of it. What was he doing? Marcone was good at enlightened self-interest. My health and relative sanity were very much his concern: I was no good to him broken. But this? This wasn't...I didn't know what to do with this. Kindness wasn't part of the deal. I hadn't know it was a possibility.
I was grateful. I was achingly, pathetically grateful. For Mister on his way back to me, for Mouse treated respectfully, for the blanket pulled over me, for the soft light of the oil lamp. For the little girl asleep down the hall. I just didn't understand.
"He'll jostle your injuries." Okay, that clearly hadn't been the question I was asking. I opened my mouth to start an argument, and nearly had a heart attack when Hendricks cleared his throat from the doorway.
Apparently, this sensing people thing only applied to John.
Who looked over at Hendricks with a frown. He hadn't jumped, the bastard.
"That report you wanted is ready." Hendricks said impassively.
"Thank you, I'll be there in a moment." Hendricks didn't move. His gaze flickered to me for a instant, then went back to Marcone. They looked at each other for a second. "That will be all." He left. Marcone took his hand out of my hair, stood up and looked at me for a little while longer. I wished I had understood any of the conversation that had obviously just happened.
"Try to sleep" he said, and left.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 4/?
Date: 2011-03-16 06:35 pm (UTC)'Cause this is awesome. JSYK.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 4/?
Date: 2011-03-16 06:39 pm (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 4/?
Date: 2011-03-16 07:00 pm (UTC)And I hadn't realized, but you're right - all of Harry's domestic entourage are oversized.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 4/?
Date: 2011-03-16 07:38 pm (UTC)Oh, Harry. :(
Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-17 10:47 pm (UTC)I did fall asleep soon after that, and woke in the early afternoon. There was a gratifyingly large tray of food on the bedside table, all of it convenient for someone with one working hand and no inclination to turn over. The water and juice had sippy cup lids, which was embarassing, but ultimately necessary. I devoured everything.
About half an hour later a maid stuck her head in and seemed relived to see me awake. I let her help me to the bathroom and firmly insisted that I could take it from there. She tried arguing that she had nurses' training and had seen it before, but there are just some things a man has to do on his own, is my opinion.
By the time I acknowledged to myself that I wasn't going to make it back to bed on my own and called her for help, there was more food, and also a lawyer. Apparently there was a whole big legal mess. First of all, Maggie's birth certifiate didn't have my name on it. I had to sign some things to get a paternity test. I had to sign some things to apply for custody. I had to sign some things to change my legal residence. I had to sign some things to...I don't even know, I was tired, okay? I just signed things.
And this was all apart from the FBI investigation. John came down explain our official story himself, clearing out everyone but Hendricks, who wandered over to examine a shelf of books.
The story was basically, that a drug cartel had kidnapped Maggie to use as leverage to force John to make - Gasp!- illegal deals. Then they'd kidnapped me and Susan as well, right out of the FBI building. They'd tortured me and murdered her. He'd eyed me at this point, and I'd looked away, trying to read the spine of the books Hendricks was by. What was he so interested in?
Thanks in part to the totally coincidental chaos that errupted in Latin America, our captors had been spotted by the people Marcone had looking for us, and Maggie and I had been rescued. The captors had gotten away. Darn. No one had been in Mexico. I'd been take to Marcone's house due to my deathly and well documented fear of hospitals.
Why had Maggie been a hostage against John? Why were we moving in with him? Because a little while after I'd been banned from working with SI, he'd asked me out. We'd been romantically involved ever since. News to me.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-18 07:14 pm (UTC)And poor tired!Harry.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-18 07:43 pm (UTC)So are we going to be seeing flashbacks rippling back to show these changes?
Also, to be clear, I'm assuming that this prompt is intrinsically dub-con in nature, for future reference.
OP says you have assumed correctly. And thank you!
Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-19 09:33 pm (UTC)Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-19 09:12 pm (UTC)For Gentleman Johnny the whole thing was a somewhat plausible gang war, put down with his usual lethal efficiency. With him undeniably involved they were bound to consider him either the perpetrator or the intended target of the violence. This was a reasonable way he could be presented as the target. And enough juicy gossip would cover a lot of the gaping holes in our story.
If anything happened to me, this would give him grounds to keep Maggie.
The proposed timing meant that while Murphy was definitely fired, all of her old cases, and other peoples' cases, probably wouldn't get raked over hot coals. Murphy had known for years that I was going to get her fired someday: look what involvement with me had done to her career already. She was frustrated with me about Marcone, but she understood why I did it, and had finally beaten it into my skull that she'd made her own damn choices. Maybe she'd take up the Sword permanently. Michael would say that where God closes a door He opens a window. I say it sucks.
My fake relationship with Thomas the hairdresser had been spread around enough in the police department that they would believe I was gay. Bi. Whatever. John just didn't have open relationships, the time I'd walked in on him and Helen had been the only real proof that he actually-
"Helen Beckett can never, ever be anywhere near Maggie."
He blinked at the non sequitur, but switched tracks willing enough. "No, that's true. I'm thinking of finding her a job outside the city. Perhaps on the west coast."
"Will she go?"
"I'll be persuasive." Normally I'm not in favor of Marcone being persuasive.
"Okay." Okay. I tried to get my breathing back under control. Hell's bells, that had been a bad thought. She'd been willing to sell him out to the Denarians, what would she do when she found out he'd just acquired a step-daughter, for all intents and purposes, when her daughter had been lost because of him? Should I tell him about the Denarians? See what happens with her first. Different topic.
"The kidnappers got away, huh? You're slipping."
"There's a human trafficking ring that's been irritating me. I'll cooperate with the investigation in their direction."
Nice. The FBI could pretend to believe that we were the innocent victims of genuinely bad people, in exchange for which they could arrest said bad people and rescue some of their actual victims. Or they could waste everyone's time, energy, and money trying to convict us of doing something to the psychopaths who'd killed a bunch of their coworkers and endangered the public, and neither arrest nor rescue anyone. I wonder what they'd pick.
I bet the organized crime departments here in Chicago catch a lot of shit from their colleagues in other cities.
He was clearly still waiting for me to pitch a fit about the relationship thing.
"Isn't it going to look bad that we're in separate rooms?"
"Not while you're this badly injured, and by the time you've recovered the investigation will be over."
"Even though, you know, this has clearly been my room for a while? Why is that? I could have sworn I'd never been to your house except for that time Rover nearly ate you."
"You were living elsewhere because you value your privacy and need your own space. And it's a guest room. Any magically powerful person would be comfortable here." Which was both true and bullshit: guests don't need bookshelves. Not this many. I itched for them, wanting to get a better look at what was there and mourning treasure companions. Honestly, what was Hendricks looking at?
Actually, why was he here? Didn't he have better things to do? Even Marcone couldn't be paranoid enough to need a bodyguard to wander around his own house. I may not have a real good record of restrained good manners around the man, but at the moment the worst I could do is fall out of bed in his general direction. He could pin me to the ground in two seconds flat. So why bring Hendricks along?
John took my distraction as grounds to move the conversation back where he wanted it.
"Shall I take it you have no overwhelming objections to this? Is there anything you need clarified?"
"I reserve the right to be pissed off when I can never have a girlfriend again."
"Noted."
Not that I really could have anyway. What do I have to offer someone? Come share a crime lord's guest bedroom? I'll probably get you killed?
"You know, when I was pretending to be Thomas' boyfriend, he gave me free coffee. I think I'm going to insist on the coffee." There hadn't been any yet, and if there had I might have been able to focus better.
This was met by silence. Hendricks actually turned around to look at me. Then looked at John's stone face and turned quickly back away.
"What?" I like coffee. Everyone knows that.
Re: AU to Changes FILL 5/?
Date: 2011-03-19 09:29 pm (UTC)Harry, you totally gave away the fake relationship.
BRB, LAWLING FOREVER.
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Date: 2011-03-19 09:30 pm (UTC)Ahahahahahaha ILU Harry.
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Date: 2011-10-06 07:24 am (UTC)Re: AU to Changes
Date: 2011-03-18 10:00 pm (UTC)I elaborate on my plans here in the discussion meme: http://scribe-protra.livejournal.com/216205.html?thread=4059533#t4059533 Please respond there. Be aware that I will take any personal attacks at anyone for any reason as confirmation that I shouldn't continue.
Thank you everyone who has liked the story so far.
Re: AU to Changes
Date: 2011-03-18 10:01 pm (UTC)