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"Time after time I came to your gate with raised hands, asking for more and yet more.
You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess.
I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my hands; some I made into playthings and broke them when tired; till the wrecks and the hoard of your gifts grew immense, hiding you, and the ceaseless expectation wore my heart out.
Take, oh take--has now become my cry.
Shatter all from this beggar's bowl: put out this lamp of the importunate watcher: hold my hands, raise me from the still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of your uncrowded presence."
Really wanting Dresden/Marcone based off of this poem. It feels full of buildup and potential to me, like it could be the sort of good that aches at the end.
You gave and gave, now in slow measure, now in sudden excess.
I took some, and some things I let drop; some lay heavy on my hands; some I made into playthings and broke them when tired; till the wrecks and the hoard of your gifts grew immense, hiding you, and the ceaseless expectation wore my heart out.
Take, oh take--has now become my cry.
Shatter all from this beggar's bowl: put out this lamp of the importunate watcher: hold my hands, raise me from the still-gathering heap of your gifts into the bare infinity of your uncrowded presence."
Really wanting Dresden/Marcone based off of this poem. It feels full of buildup and potential to me, like it could be the sort of good that aches at the end.
Ramirez comes to Chicago to lend a hand but he brings some company with him. His cousins are not from one of the nice neighborhoods. I just want to see Harry, tall skinny very white boy, trying to get along with a couple of hard-core cholos.
This prompt is meant to be fun and cracky. *waves the Carlos Mencia wand over prompt*
Have fun with it.
This prompt is meant to be fun and cracky. *waves the Carlos Mencia wand over prompt*
Have fun with it.
*whimpers in joy*
It's not something we do very often. Just once in a while John and I stay at my place. Even then it only happens if we both have the morning free.
He gave me a straight razor for my birthday. It took him a week to figure out that I had no idea how to use it. I balked the first time he offered but when he sat on my knees, legs spread around mine. I shut up pretty fast.
John has this single-minded attention to detail. Being the object of that kind of attention is intense. His fingers follow behind the path of the blade checking his work.
By the time he finishes I'm ready to do things to, er, for him to repay that devotion. It gets pretty heated.
No, I'm not blushing. So if you've had your fun, Charity, would you please go get Michael so he can help me repair my bed?
He gave me a straight razor for my birthday. It took him a week to figure out that I had no idea how to use it. I balked the first time he offered but when he sat on my knees, legs spread around mine. I shut up pretty fast.
John has this single-minded attention to detail. Being the object of that kind of attention is intense. His fingers follow behind the path of the blade checking his work.
By the time he finishes I'm ready to do things to, er, for him to repay that devotion. It gets pretty heated.
No, I'm not blushing. So if you've had your fun, Charity, would you please go get Michael so he can help me repair my bed?
There will totally be more of this, right?
*purrs happily and cuddles fill* definitely worth the wait <3
No problem, dearest! I've had it marked as a prompt of interest for a while.
I hope I don't disappoint! Like I said, it may be a while, but I will get back to it <3
And Harry always needs to be taken care of, but this one needs a therapist and a sense of self-worth, stat.
I hope I don't disappoint! Like I said, it may be a while, but I will get back to it <3
And Harry always needs to be taken care of, but this one needs a therapist and a sense of self-worth, stat.
"You can't rape the willing"
No, actually, you can.
No, actually, you can.
"My god, what a tacky decorating scheme," was the first thought that popped into my head when I saw the inside of the main building at True Directions. It was surreal. Bright pinks and hyper-saturated blues, with the occasional background of eye-searing yellow. Furniture like something out of a parody of the '50s. It was just so... cartoonish. Did whoever furnished the place have no taste at all?
My second thought was that maybe Justin had been on to something after all, because that first thought had been pretty gay.
Not that I was gay. All joking aside, I really had no idea what the hell my teacher, my foster-father, was thinking when he sent me here. I mean, yeah, so I'd never had a girlfriend. So what? I was sixteen, gangly and awkward, and spent all my time not at school at home studying magic. The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her.
But Justin was convinced, and that meant that I was stuck here for who knows how long. Not learning any magic. And if I didn't play along, I risked getting tossed back into the system, no family, nobody to teach my to use my gifts, nobody to look out for me... I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen.
Well, these guys were supposed to be professionals. Maybe Justin might have the wrong idea, but the people here, they'd know I wasn't... like that. Maybe Justin would believe them, and I could go home, get back to working on my shield spells with Elaine.
Half an hour later, I wasn't so optimistic. I met the program director, a woman named Mary who's personality was as plastic as her face. I told her that I wasn't gay. She told me that admitting I had a problem was the first step. I met her assistant, Mike, apparently a former homosexual. After he interrogated me about my supposed 'unnatural desires,' I wasn't so sure about the 'former' bit.
Then they made me change into this... grey... thing. Kind of like a hospital gown. It didn't even close in back. What the hell they were doing putting me in something that didn't cover my butt and then throw me in with a bunch of gay guys, I don't know. I tied it together as well as I could. I would apparently earn the right to wear real clothing when I 'admitted' to my 'sickness.'
I was pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed to wear my wizard robe, though. They'd probably think it was a dress.
They had another inmate of the camp, a guy named Jeff who seemed to be a living fulfillment of gay stereotype, show me around and tell me about what we'd be doing all day. It sounded like a bunch of gobbeldygook to me- this kind of therapy, that kind of therapy. At least there was some free time I could use to study.
"And here's where we sleep!" Jeff said cheerfully as he opened a door painted in that ubiquitous shade of blue in keeping with Mary's bizare color-coding fetish. The dormitory was also blue. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue ceiling, blue beds. With wide eyes, he said, in a stage whisper, "Remember: no inappropriate behavior allowed."
"Uh..." I said.
"He means no fucking," said a bored voice from one of the beds. Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty. He was reading a book entitled Macroeconomics: A Global Perspective, and next to him were a few more thick, heavy textbooks.
"Wasn't planning on it," I said.
The guy looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Too bad," he said.
Jeff glared at him and hustled me out again. I was kind of uncomfortably aware of the other guy's eyes on my imperfectly covered back. "Sorry," Jeff said once the door was closed. "John has... an attitude problem. I don't think he's trying."
"Gee, really?" I said.
"Anyway," Jeff said, "Sooo, there's five steps to the program, ok? The first step is admitting you have a problem."
"Great," I said. "I don't. I'm straight. Can I go home now?"
"Oh, honey," Jeff said, shaking his head as he led me back to the main room, "we all think that at first."
My second thought was that maybe Justin had been on to something after all, because that first thought had been pretty gay.
Not that I was gay. All joking aside, I really had no idea what the hell my teacher, my foster-father, was thinking when he sent me here. I mean, yeah, so I'd never had a girlfriend. So what? I was sixteen, gangly and awkward, and spent all my time not at school at home studying magic. The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her.
But Justin was convinced, and that meant that I was stuck here for who knows how long. Not learning any magic. And if I didn't play along, I risked getting tossed back into the system, no family, nobody to teach my to use my gifts, nobody to look out for me... I shuddered. I couldn't let that happen.
Well, these guys were supposed to be professionals. Maybe Justin might have the wrong idea, but the people here, they'd know I wasn't... like that. Maybe Justin would believe them, and I could go home, get back to working on my shield spells with Elaine.
Half an hour later, I wasn't so optimistic. I met the program director, a woman named Mary who's personality was as plastic as her face. I told her that I wasn't gay. She told me that admitting I had a problem was the first step. I met her assistant, Mike, apparently a former homosexual. After he interrogated me about my supposed 'unnatural desires,' I wasn't so sure about the 'former' bit.
Then they made me change into this... grey... thing. Kind of like a hospital gown. It didn't even close in back. What the hell they were doing putting me in something that didn't cover my butt and then throw me in with a bunch of gay guys, I don't know. I tied it together as well as I could. I would apparently earn the right to wear real clothing when I 'admitted' to my 'sickness.'
I was pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed to wear my wizard robe, though. They'd probably think it was a dress.
They had another inmate of the camp, a guy named Jeff who seemed to be a living fulfillment of gay stereotype, show me around and tell me about what we'd be doing all day. It sounded like a bunch of gobbeldygook to me- this kind of therapy, that kind of therapy. At least there was some free time I could use to study.
"And here's where we sleep!" Jeff said cheerfully as he opened a door painted in that ubiquitous shade of blue in keeping with Mary's bizare color-coding fetish. The dormitory was also blue. Blue walls, blue carpet, blue ceiling, blue beds. With wide eyes, he said, in a stage whisper, "Remember: no inappropriate behavior allowed."
"Uh..." I said.
"He means no fucking," said a bored voice from one of the beds. Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty. He was reading a book entitled Macroeconomics: A Global Perspective, and next to him were a few more thick, heavy textbooks.
"Wasn't planning on it," I said.
The guy looked me up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Too bad," he said.
Jeff glared at him and hustled me out again. I was kind of uncomfortably aware of the other guy's eyes on my imperfectly covered back. "Sorry," Jeff said once the door was closed. "John has... an attitude problem. I don't think he's trying."
"Gee, really?" I said.
"Anyway," Jeff said, "Sooo, there's five steps to the program, ok? The first step is admitting you have a problem."
"Great," I said. "I don't. I'm straight. Can I go home now?"
"Oh, honey," Jeff said, shaking his head as he led me back to the main room, "we all think that at first."
EEEEE.
also! The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her
remarkably refreshing!
and Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty.
Oh Harry. The best part, of course, being how much it parallels the cateloge Harry went through when first meeting John in Storm Front-- and almost every introduction we get to him in subsequent books. What's he wearing (or not wearing). Oh hey he's handsome: lemme tell you how.
\o/ fic!
also! The only girl I actually talked to on a regular basis was Elaine, my freaking foster-sister, and it's not like I could start dating her
remarkably refreshing!
and Well, from a guy sprawled across on one of the beds, but I hadn't noticed him at first, what with his clothes being exactly the same shade as the bedspread. He was a classically handsome kind of guy- dark brown hair, strong but refined jawline, and the sort of muscles you get from playing a sport or doing manual labor rather than spending hours in the weight room. He looked about nineteen or twenty.
Oh Harry. The best part, of course, being how much it parallels the cateloge Harry went through when first meeting John in Storm Front-- and almost every introduction we get to him in subsequent books. What's he wearing (or not wearing). Oh hey he's handsome: lemme tell you how.
\o/ fic!
It's a game they play, right? (And fandom plays, heh.) Marcone pulls Harry's first name out; Harry bristles and rebutts him. But maybe he doth protest too much, as the saying goes. Maybe he really, really likes it.
I would love a story with most of the trappings of canon, except Harry is gay and out and very proud.* And John Marcone is, oh wait, a mob guy, who is either so deep in the closet he’s in Narnia, or in massive denial (he might have vague thoughts about men sometimes, but that’s not practical, no purpose, put it away, Johnny), or either way seriously threatened by Harry’s sexuality. Mix well, shake vigorously.
* Might not even need much canon tweaking! I mean, it doesn’t take imagination to see Harry using take-no-prisoners I am who I am fuck you sexuality like a weapon against the White Council, his fucked up history, every authority figure ever, like he uses his sarcasm. Amiright?
* Might not even need much canon tweaking! I mean, it doesn’t take imagination to see Harry using take-no-prisoners I am who I am fuck you sexuality like a weapon against the White Council, his fucked up history, every authority figure ever, like he uses his sarcasm. Amiright?
He's queer, he's here, and if you take issue with it he'll use that as an excuse to set things on fire.
SECONDED.
SECONDED.
Eeeee! This. Is. Ace! Please-oh-please let it continue!
And it's really not that much of a stretch-- he's certainly not closeted about anything else that he's proud of. Advertising as a wizard in the yellow pages, on his office door-- he is what he is, fuck you. It could totally go the same way with his sexuality, if he'd learned to be confident in it as a young age, like he did with his magic.
This.
Was.
Asinine.
We sat in a circle in our chairs. And then everyone went around in a circle introducing themselves. Who they were, some random fact about themselves, and then the words, "I'm a homosexual."
Steve was a computer programmer and he was a homosexual. Emma played the violin and she was a homosexual. Jeff was a fucking ridiculous stereotype and he was, gasp, a homosexual.
Andi was... Andi was interesting. Andi was, by what I could tell from her aura- not that I had much practice at reading people's auras- a little bit magically sensitive. Probably not a wizard like me, but I made a mental note to check her out. No, not like that. Well, okay, yes like that, my god, those legs, but that didn't matter, because she liked nature and she was a homosexual. What I mean was, I figured I should see whether she had some magic skills or something.
Speaking of checking out, the next girl was interesting too, though not in the magical sort of way. "I'm Murphy," she said, her voice practically seething with rage. Mary gave her a reproving look, and Murphy rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm Karrin. I just earned my second-rank black belt in Aikido. And," she gritted her teeth, "I'm a homosexual." She sat back down, arms folded, glaring at the wall. I didn't blame her. It was a really hideous wall.
Murphy was damn pretty. She was tiny- she might not even hit five feet- and her skirt and the short sleeves of her pepto-bismol pink blouse showed off a physique that was all wiry muscle. Her blond hair, cut into a short pixie cut, framed her face, which was... really nice. Cute little button nose, bright blue eyes, and take-no-shit attitude added up to a few hundred points in the the "What the hell am I doing here" column. Too bad she probably wouldn't be interested.
Well, okay, that's what they were trying to fix, wasn't it?
Ah, who was I kidding? Even if she was straight as an arrow, who would be interested in a guy who looks like me?
In one of life's little ironies, the answer to that question came immediately. The guy I'd run into in the dormitory was next. "I'm John," he said. "I assist my uncle in the management of his many business interests." He let his eyes slide over me again, up and down, not bothering to disguise it the least. "I'm a homosexual," he said blandly, with a slight, challenging smile.
I have to admit, as uncomfortable as it was to be on the recieving end of such interest, it was also kind of... nice. Reassuring. At least somebody thought I was hot, even if he was a bit too, you know, male for my taste.
The introductions continued, and I admit I spaced out a bit until they got to- okay, how had I missed Meryl? Jeez. Meryl's aura made Andi's aura look completely normal. Couldn't tell what she was, but mundane wasn't it. She was big- tall, muscled, heavyset, with hair a weird brownish-green color that couldn't have been natural and yet nobody in their right mind would choose on purpose. Another one to watch out for, even if she wasn't as asthetically pleasing.
Soon everyone but me had said their bit, and there was a slightly awkward silence.
"Now," Mary said, "Harry, it's time for your first disclosure."
"Oookay," I said. "And that would be?"
"Well, why don't you tell us about the first time you thought that you might be gay?" Mary smiled at me, a nice, sweet, and utterly fake smile.
"Um... I'm not?" I tried.
She gave me a pitying look.
"Seriously, I don't belong here," I said. "I'm not gay. I'm not attracted to guys. Stars and stones, I've probably forgotten half of everybody's names here because I was too distracted by Murphy's legs!"
"What?" Murphy said, getting halfway up from her seat before Andi pulled her back down. She sounded seriously pissed off. Whoops. Way to go, Harry. Go directly to pissing off the angry lesbian who can probably break you in half.
Mary nodded. "I see," she said. "Now, Harry, it's very common to start from a place of denial. What you need to do to see the truth is look at your life with fresh eyes. Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"Well, no," I said. "I don't really have time for one."
There were some knowing nods around the circle. I glared at them.
"According to-" Mary consulted some papers "Elaine, is it?"
"My sister," I said, frowning. Had Elaine said something that had gotten me into this mess?
Mary frowned. "Your guardian said- well, nevermind that. According to Elaine, you've expressed some strong opinions on the looks of certain male classmates of yours."
"I can't have opinions? It's just... you know." I shrugged. "You can tell if a guy is hot or not without wanting to sleep with him, right?" My eyes slid involuntarily over to John. He didn't smirk, quite- it was more dignified than that. More of a slight, 'oh, really?' smile. I tore my eyes away. "Hell's bells," I said. "Did I really get thrown in here because I talk to my sister about the guys she's interested in?" Not that she had any more opportunity of getting a boyfriend than I had of getting a girlfriend, but still.
"You have enormous posters of Harrison Ford in your bedroom," Mary said.
"Excuse me," I said, "I wasn't aware that liking Star Wars and Indiana Jones made me gay." Not being able to watch those movies over and over was, I swear, one of the biggest downsides to being a wizard. "Is it abnormal to think Han Solo is awesome?"
"And," Mary said, "you keep pestering your guardian to get you a cat."
I stared at her. "You've got to be joking. You think. That I'm gay. Because I like cats." It took every bit of will I had- hell, every bit of Will- not to make a pussy joke. But I was good. All those lessons in self-control? Totally worth it.
"Harry," Andi said timidly. "I... look, sometimes it's difficult to know what normal is."
"Tell me about it," I muttered. Normal wasn't something I was ever going to be. Of course, if I was reading her aura right, Andi wasn't exactly normal either.
"It's just..." She twisted her hands together. "People don't talk about this sort of thing. It's easy to think that... you know, the way you look at girls- well, guys, for you- isn't sexual, because you're still learning what sexual is."
"Um, I know what sexual is," I said. "It's the way I look at" your legs, no, no, stop it Harry, stop with the foot-in-mouth disease "girls."
"And when you think a guy is hot," someone said, "that's not sexual because?"
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. Because I'm straight. Circular logic, right. Circular logic is bad. Okay. Fine. I could figure out the real answer, the answer that explained how I knew I was straight. And once I found that answer, I could go home. I took a deep, calming breath and closed my eyes.
I liked looking at women's bodies. That much, I had no doubt about. And, okay, it's not like it was a hardship to look at men's bodies either, aside from the seething jealousy about guys with more muscle than I could ever hope to have on my own scrawny frame. But that's just it. When I stared at the abs of those underwear models in the ads in the newspaper, I wasn't thinking, gee, I want to fuck that guy, I was thinking I want to look like that, if I was thinking at all.
And, I mean, okay, sometimes I'd get an erection. But given that for awhile I got hard every time I channeled fire, before I'd figured out how to access that magic without screwing with my circulatory system, it was pretty easy to dismiss the random erections I got from time to time. (Like right now, because the days was just going that well.) Take a cold shower (as if there were any other kind), move on.
So. The way I could tell that looking at girls was sexual and looking at boys wasn't, was that... Okay. I got crushes on girls sometimes. Justin discouraged it, but it's not like he could control what I was thinking. And sometimes, even though I knew it was useless, I'd let just that little bit of hope flourish, that this time she'd reciprocate, maybe this time the girl would judge me worthy of her love. And yeah, I'd think about having sex with whatever girl I was being unrealistic about, but that wasn't the point, the point was that...
Was that a girl's approval was a sign I was worthwhile.
With much trepidation, I considered the guys I had... admired, over the past couple years. Handsome, popular, smart, most of them wouldn't have a thing to do with me of course, but sometimes I thought, if I could just be their friend, that would...
I did not like where this was going.
Okay. Simple test. I would think of a guy, I would think of having sex with that guy, it would seem wrong or disgusting or even just boring, and that would be that.
I formed the vision in my mind, being as careful about details as if it was a magical working. Me, some guy- hell, why not make it Han Solo? If I didn't want to screw Han Solo, that would be positive evidence I was straight- So. Han Solo's hand on my...
Oh god.
"Stars and stones," I said weakly, as I opened my eyes "I'm a homosexual."
Was.
Asinine.
We sat in a circle in our chairs. And then everyone went around in a circle introducing themselves. Who they were, some random fact about themselves, and then the words, "I'm a homosexual."
Steve was a computer programmer and he was a homosexual. Emma played the violin and she was a homosexual. Jeff was a fucking ridiculous stereotype and he was, gasp, a homosexual.
Andi was... Andi was interesting. Andi was, by what I could tell from her aura- not that I had much practice at reading people's auras- a little bit magically sensitive. Probably not a wizard like me, but I made a mental note to check her out. No, not like that. Well, okay, yes like that, my god, those legs, but that didn't matter, because she liked nature and she was a homosexual. What I mean was, I figured I should see whether she had some magic skills or something.
Speaking of checking out, the next girl was interesting too, though not in the magical sort of way. "I'm Murphy," she said, her voice practically seething with rage. Mary gave her a reproving look, and Murphy rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'm Karrin. I just earned my second-rank black belt in Aikido. And," she gritted her teeth, "I'm a homosexual." She sat back down, arms folded, glaring at the wall. I didn't blame her. It was a really hideous wall.
Murphy was damn pretty. She was tiny- she might not even hit five feet- and her skirt and the short sleeves of her pepto-bismol pink blouse showed off a physique that was all wiry muscle. Her blond hair, cut into a short pixie cut, framed her face, which was... really nice. Cute little button nose, bright blue eyes, and take-no-shit attitude added up to a few hundred points in the the "What the hell am I doing here" column. Too bad she probably wouldn't be interested.
Well, okay, that's what they were trying to fix, wasn't it?
Ah, who was I kidding? Even if she was straight as an arrow, who would be interested in a guy who looks like me?
In one of life's little ironies, the answer to that question came immediately. The guy I'd run into in the dormitory was next. "I'm John," he said. "I assist my uncle in the management of his many business interests." He let his eyes slide over me again, up and down, not bothering to disguise it the least. "I'm a homosexual," he said blandly, with a slight, challenging smile.
I have to admit, as uncomfortable as it was to be on the recieving end of such interest, it was also kind of... nice. Reassuring. At least somebody thought I was hot, even if he was a bit too, you know, male for my taste.
The introductions continued, and I admit I spaced out a bit until they got to- okay, how had I missed Meryl? Jeez. Meryl's aura made Andi's aura look completely normal. Couldn't tell what she was, but mundane wasn't it. She was big- tall, muscled, heavyset, with hair a weird brownish-green color that couldn't have been natural and yet nobody in their right mind would choose on purpose. Another one to watch out for, even if she wasn't as asthetically pleasing.
Soon everyone but me had said their bit, and there was a slightly awkward silence.
"Now," Mary said, "Harry, it's time for your first disclosure."
"Oookay," I said. "And that would be?"
"Well, why don't you tell us about the first time you thought that you might be gay?" Mary smiled at me, a nice, sweet, and utterly fake smile.
"Um... I'm not?" I tried.
She gave me a pitying look.
"Seriously, I don't belong here," I said. "I'm not gay. I'm not attracted to guys. Stars and stones, I've probably forgotten half of everybody's names here because I was too distracted by Murphy's legs!"
"What?" Murphy said, getting halfway up from her seat before Andi pulled her back down. She sounded seriously pissed off. Whoops. Way to go, Harry. Go directly to pissing off the angry lesbian who can probably break you in half.
Mary nodded. "I see," she said. "Now, Harry, it's very common to start from a place of denial. What you need to do to see the truth is look at your life with fresh eyes. Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"Well, no," I said. "I don't really have time for one."
There were some knowing nods around the circle. I glared at them.
"According to-" Mary consulted some papers "Elaine, is it?"
"My sister," I said, frowning. Had Elaine said something that had gotten me into this mess?
Mary frowned. "Your guardian said- well, nevermind that. According to Elaine, you've expressed some strong opinions on the looks of certain male classmates of yours."
"I can't have opinions? It's just... you know." I shrugged. "You can tell if a guy is hot or not without wanting to sleep with him, right?" My eyes slid involuntarily over to John. He didn't smirk, quite- it was more dignified than that. More of a slight, 'oh, really?' smile. I tore my eyes away. "Hell's bells," I said. "Did I really get thrown in here because I talk to my sister about the guys she's interested in?" Not that she had any more opportunity of getting a boyfriend than I had of getting a girlfriend, but still.
"You have enormous posters of Harrison Ford in your bedroom," Mary said.
"Excuse me," I said, "I wasn't aware that liking Star Wars and Indiana Jones made me gay." Not being able to watch those movies over and over was, I swear, one of the biggest downsides to being a wizard. "Is it abnormal to think Han Solo is awesome?"
"And," Mary said, "you keep pestering your guardian to get you a cat."
I stared at her. "You've got to be joking. You think. That I'm gay. Because I like cats." It took every bit of will I had- hell, every bit of Will- not to make a pussy joke. But I was good. All those lessons in self-control? Totally worth it.
"Harry," Andi said timidly. "I... look, sometimes it's difficult to know what normal is."
"Tell me about it," I muttered. Normal wasn't something I was ever going to be. Of course, if I was reading her aura right, Andi wasn't exactly normal either.
"It's just..." She twisted her hands together. "People don't talk about this sort of thing. It's easy to think that... you know, the way you look at girls- well, guys, for you- isn't sexual, because you're still learning what sexual is."
"Um, I know what sexual is," I said. "It's the way I look at" your legs, no, no, stop it Harry, stop with the foot-in-mouth disease "girls."
"And when you think a guy is hot," someone said, "that's not sexual because?"
I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it. Because I'm straight. Circular logic, right. Circular logic is bad. Okay. Fine. I could figure out the real answer, the answer that explained how I knew I was straight. And once I found that answer, I could go home. I took a deep, calming breath and closed my eyes.
I liked looking at women's bodies. That much, I had no doubt about. And, okay, it's not like it was a hardship to look at men's bodies either, aside from the seething jealousy about guys with more muscle than I could ever hope to have on my own scrawny frame. But that's just it. When I stared at the abs of those underwear models in the ads in the newspaper, I wasn't thinking, gee, I want to fuck that guy, I was thinking I want to look like that, if I was thinking at all.
And, I mean, okay, sometimes I'd get an erection. But given that for awhile I got hard every time I channeled fire, before I'd figured out how to access that magic without screwing with my circulatory system, it was pretty easy to dismiss the random erections I got from time to time. (Like right now, because the days was just going that well.) Take a cold shower (as if there were any other kind), move on.
So. The way I could tell that looking at girls was sexual and looking at boys wasn't, was that... Okay. I got crushes on girls sometimes. Justin discouraged it, but it's not like he could control what I was thinking. And sometimes, even though I knew it was useless, I'd let just that little bit of hope flourish, that this time she'd reciprocate, maybe this time the girl would judge me worthy of her love. And yeah, I'd think about having sex with whatever girl I was being unrealistic about, but that wasn't the point, the point was that...
Was that a girl's approval was a sign I was worthwhile.
With much trepidation, I considered the guys I had... admired, over the past couple years. Handsome, popular, smart, most of them wouldn't have a thing to do with me of course, but sometimes I thought, if I could just be their friend, that would...
I did not like where this was going.
Okay. Simple test. I would think of a guy, I would think of having sex with that guy, it would seem wrong or disgusting or even just boring, and that would be that.
I formed the vision in my mind, being as careful about details as if it was a magical working. Me, some guy- hell, why not make it Han Solo? If I didn't want to screw Han Solo, that would be positive evidence I was straight- So. Han Solo's hand on my...
Oh god.
"Stars and stones," I said weakly, as I opened my eyes "I'm a homosexual."
I formed the vision in my mind, being as careful about details as if it was a magical working. Me, some guy- hell, why not make it Han Solo? If I didn't want to screw Han Solo, that would be positive evidence I was straight- So. Han Solo's hand on my...
Oh god.
LOL. Oh, Harry.
(Though Han Solo = ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTANDABLE as he is awesome and amazing. Erm. )
It will continue! I swear! Even if it gets a little weird near the end!
Glad you liked it. Your stories are so fantastic I wanted you to have one of your prompts filled.
Week 14
"Bob, where'd I leave that bottle of cola syrup? I can't find it." I drummed my fingers along the edges of the wire baskets as I rummaged through them. I needed that damn syrup for the base of this potion and it wasn't where I'd left it.
"Third basket to your left, behind the dragonfly wings."
"I already looked there." I moved to the right basket and dug through it. Then I pulled everything out and laid it all out on my work table and Molly's desk. No syrup. "It's not here, Bob."
"Then you took it out of the lab." A page turned and I growled, kicked at the leg of the desk. I had not take the bottle out of the lab. Maybe Molly...no. My apprentice was very, very careful about putting things back where she found them, after the 'Nair' Potion incident. I don't know why she whined so much. Her hair grew back.
"Bob, have the house cleaners been down here?"
"Mmm...no. Just that little faerie of yours."
"Toot?" He nodded, absently. "Dammit!"
I stomped up out of the lab and dropped my robe over the arm of the couch, grabbing up my coat as I went out the front door. There was a spot in the back yard, inside a big stand of trees where you could go and not be seen. I stood there and called for Toot-toot.
My little general showed up inside of five minutes, a blur of scarlet light that you'd never notice unless you were looking for it. When he stopped, hovering in front of my face I had to stare. He'd lost the military uniform somewhere along the way and found a little suit.
"Is that a fedora?" I leaned closer to peer at it. It was. It was a tiny, tiny fedora. Toot beamed, literally. He was starting to radiate a little sparkling light.
"Yes my Lady!" I held out a hand and Toot landed, the weight taking me by surprise. I was right, he was growing. "General Hendricks helped me get a new uniform!" He strutted, showing off. He looked a lot like a classic movie gangster, the effect only being ruined by his lavender hair sticking out from under the fedora and his bare feet. His box cutter's bright orange plastic had been painted matte black.
"Oh he did, did he. What else has Cujo been teaching you? And why the hell are you talking to Cujo anyway?"
"Since you and the Baron are joining your houses, I have to talk to his general too! He knows lots about being general! We have to have the same uniform, so we don't get mistaken for enemies." He tugged at the lapels of his jacket. I could feel a twitch starting up in one eye.
"Marcone and I aren't joining anything. We're still Harry and Marcone. Separate. Just..with a kid." I eyed him. He hadn't changed the uniform until really recently. "You haven't been talking to Hendricks for very long, have you?" He gave a surprisingly full bodied snort.
"For ages Harry. Ages and ages." Of course, ages could have been a week to Toot. His sense of time was not precisely reliable. He thumped his little butt down in the middle of my palm and crossed his legs. "The uniforms didn't matter until now. But now we're all together, so we had to change. You're not just sporting anymore." I shook my head. I was not going to argue with Toot about it and this was making me lose sight of the original problem anyway.
"Toot, you're still my general, right?" He nodded, the little hat flopping off his head and into his lap. Toot performed a little flip with it, threw it into the air and it landed on his head. It really was cute. "Then why are you stealing my things? I'm missing coffee, soda, and now there's a potion ingredient missing from the lab, Toot. That's no good."
"General Hendricks explained about human babies, Harry. And he buys stuffed crust pizza. Stuffed crust. You can't have those things back. It's for your own good." He crossed his arms and I had to bite my lip. Toot was trying to imitate Hendricks' looming pose of authority.
"Okay, but I'm over that now. I don't want the coffee back." Not for another six, seven months at least. "But you can't just go around taking my stuff, Toot. I need that bottle of syrup back. It's not the same thing as the sodas. I don't plan on drinking it. I need it for a spell."
"I turned it over to General Hendricks, with all the other counterbands."
"That's okay. I'll get it back from him. But from now on, Toot, you don't take things without checking with me first. Got it?" He hopped up, saluting.
"Ayeaye, ma'am!" And then he was gone. I sighed and headed back into my place. Toot could be excused for not knowing the difference between soda and the syrup. Hendricks damn well knew better.
Hendricks answered on the second ring.
"You're an ass, Cujo. A giant, flaming ass and I'm going to turn you blue. Like a fucking Smurf."
"It's always a delight to hear from you."
"Stop getting Toot to steal things for you. He doesn't know any better."
"He came to me, Dresden. The little guy wants to do his job right. So I'm just making sure he knows everything he needs to know to take care of you. Why is that a problem?"
"Because-" I broke off, shaking my head. "I don't need taking care of, you giant lug. I'm pregnant, not helpless." I hung up on him. A soft creak brought my head around to the still open door into the lab. And to Molly's head ducking down just a split second too late. "Well, hell. Where do you think you're going?"
She popped back up, smiling sheepishly as she climbed up into the apartment.
"So, I guess you forgot I was coming over?"
"I've had a few other things on my mind."
"Yeah, I guess so." Her eyes lit on the phone before going straight to my middle. "Really?"
"Don't tell your parents. I am so very much not in the mood for that lecture, okay?"
"Sure."
~
Charity called me a little bit after eight.
"You and your boyfriend will be coming to dinner next Saturday at seven."
"Uh?"
"Dinner. Seven. Michael and I would like to meet him."
Damn. I was obviously not instilling the proper amount of fear in my apprentice. Then again, it was Charity. I'm not sure I was up to out doing her.
~
"'lo?" I blinked sleepily at the clock over my fireplace. Hells bells, it was only eleven. I'd been asleep for maybe an hour and a half. On the couch, again. My neck and back were cramped and I started to stretch out, slowly. I shouldn't sit up and read. I was going to burn the place down or throw out my back.
"Harry?"
"Murphy!" I was wide awake. She sounded cautious. But she was on the phone, so that was an improvement, right?
"I've got a body down at the morgue I need you to take a look at. Can you come down?"
"Ah, Murph, what about...Marcone." And all the issues that came with him.
"It's not- it's not a case. So it's off the clock. But I think it's related to that thing with the Tuck kid. You're blacklisted from CPD forever, Harry. Nothing is going to change that." I thought I heard her sigh down the line. "Are you coming or what?"
"I'm coming."
~
Murphy met me outside, leaning against the wall of the old building. I did my best to smile at her and think happy, friendly thoughts. Like I could force everything to be okay if I just acted like it was. She smiled back, politely, but there was no warmth in it.
"Butters is waiting for us." Murphy dove right into it, pushing off the wall and leading me into the morgue. I followed, quiet. "This guy, Mr. David Wadsworth, calls out sick from his job for a week. Someone gets nervous when they don't hear from him, so they go around to his house. He's sitting in his living room, staring at the tv. Nothing they do gets his attention, and his skin is clammy, pulse jumping all over the place.
"They call an ambulance, but by the time the EMT's get to him, he's just stopped. Dead. Bam."
"Drugs?"
"Nothing." We turned a corner and I could hear Butters' voice speaking into a tape recorder. Murphy stopped. "Butters didn't find anything weird. But the symptoms the guy described. Maybe it's nothing. But I've got the feeling that the two are connected."
"I'll look at him." She nodded.
"I'll be out here. I want to talk to you when you're done." Murphy's mouth twisted. "It's not about the case."
I poked my head into the examination room, waving at Butters. He flicked the recorder off and put it down on the side of the room farthest away from the body.
"Hi Harry! I hear congratulations are in order." The little ME was going to break something if he didn't tone down the smile. At least someone in the building was happy.
"Thanks, Butters. Can I see the body now?" He bustled back over to the exam table and it's sheet covered contents. On the way, he reached up to pat in my shoulders general vicinity.
"She's mad, but you two'll make up."
"I'm not sure you make up from this kind of thing. I fucked up."
"My God! So you did. The great Harry Dresden, not perfect. How ever will the world continue to spin?"
I gave him a little smile and turned my attention to the body. He hadn't been a very large man, thin but without any muscle. Light brown hair that almost hid the gray that was sneaking in and darkly tanned skin. Which was a trick in early fall in Chicago.
I didn't see any obvious signs of trauma, aside from the closed incision on his chest, so I pushed my magic out toward the body, seeing if there was any residual feeling of the ghost. Nothing. Okay. Fine. Just a quick peek with my Sight. I owed it to Murphy.
I regretted it. He hadn't been dead for very long, so there was still an echo effect of his spirit left behind. The soul itself had moved on, but I could see a pale after image of it. His soul wasn't the worst thing I'd ever seen, but it wasn't pretty either. The damage was all to his head. It looked like a piece or wormy driftwood or an ant farm. Thin bits of solidity riddled with holes. He'd been eaten, and his body hadn't been able to deal with the strain of the damage. I looked away, shut my Sight back down before I could see anything else.
"You okay, Harry? You're kind of pale. And your nose is bleeding." Butters handed me a tissue, and I wiped at the blood on my upper lip, packing it against my nose.
"Fine. Thanks." I slumped against a wall, suddenly very tired. If I'd found the ghost, David Wadsworth would still be alive. I'd missed something, and it had killed a man. "Thanks for letting me take a look." I patted Butters' shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."
Murphy was waiting for me.
"It's the same thing." I closed my eyes. They were dry and aching. "I'm sorry, Murph. I didn't think these things killed people. Bob said they weren't destructive to the host. I screwed up."
"You couldn't know." She reached out and took my hand, squeezing. "You can only work with the info you have, and I know you were looking for this thing. We'll just have to look harder now. I'll cross check the paths of our two victims, see if there's any overlap."
"Thanks." I opened my eyes and smiled down at her. "Find it and I'll go kick it's ass." We let go of each other and Murphy rocked back on her heels. "What'd you want to talk about?"
"This." She picked up a small backpack and handed it to me. "These are copies of some of the crimes we suspect Marcone's involvement in. We can't prove anything, of course. But I want you to look at them. I think he's got you blinded to who he really is, Harry."
I took the bag and opened it up, pulled the first file out. I flicked through it, seeing the crime scene pictures. A young man, dead on the ground, beaten. A single gunshot wound to his temple. The report gave more detail. He'd been a drug dealer, suspected of selling to a high school student who'd overdosed. I snapped it closed, dropped it back into the bag and rifled through some of the others, feeling Murphy's eyes on me the whole time. Pimps, drug dealers, rapists. Thieves who didn't pay their dues and who accidentally fell down stairs. I'd seen worse than the damage done to some of them. Some of it made my throat tight.
Through it all, I saw Marcone's eyes. The cold, unfeeling shine of them while he was working. Irritated when I did something particularly obnoxious. Laughing, smiling. Quietly shocked and wondering sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking.
The last folder was Amanda Beckitt. There was no autopsy photo, of course. But the crime scene itself told the story, and the pictures of her clothes, bloodstained and that one deadly hole. I ran my thumb over the curve of her cheek in a school photo that had been included and I shook my head, put it back with the others and handed the bag to Murphy.
"I know exactly who he is, Karrin. I always have." I shrugged, helpless. "It doesn't matter. I'm not a good person. I've killed. I've even enjoyed it, on occasion." I would never lose the memory of the satisfaction I felt seeing those ghouls burn, burning away my sorrow over the children they'd murdered. "Maybe we deserve each other."
"Bob, where'd I leave that bottle of cola syrup? I can't find it." I drummed my fingers along the edges of the wire baskets as I rummaged through them. I needed that damn syrup for the base of this potion and it wasn't where I'd left it.
"Third basket to your left, behind the dragonfly wings."
"I already looked there." I moved to the right basket and dug through it. Then I pulled everything out and laid it all out on my work table and Molly's desk. No syrup. "It's not here, Bob."
"Then you took it out of the lab." A page turned and I growled, kicked at the leg of the desk. I had not take the bottle out of the lab. Maybe Molly...no. My apprentice was very, very careful about putting things back where she found them, after the 'Nair' Potion incident. I don't know why she whined so much. Her hair grew back.
"Bob, have the house cleaners been down here?"
"Mmm...no. Just that little faerie of yours."
"Toot?" He nodded, absently. "Dammit!"
I stomped up out of the lab and dropped my robe over the arm of the couch, grabbing up my coat as I went out the front door. There was a spot in the back yard, inside a big stand of trees where you could go and not be seen. I stood there and called for Toot-toot.
My little general showed up inside of five minutes, a blur of scarlet light that you'd never notice unless you were looking for it. When he stopped, hovering in front of my face I had to stare. He'd lost the military uniform somewhere along the way and found a little suit.
"Is that a fedora?" I leaned closer to peer at it. It was. It was a tiny, tiny fedora. Toot beamed, literally. He was starting to radiate a little sparkling light.
"Yes my Lady!" I held out a hand and Toot landed, the weight taking me by surprise. I was right, he was growing. "General Hendricks helped me get a new uniform!" He strutted, showing off. He looked a lot like a classic movie gangster, the effect only being ruined by his lavender hair sticking out from under the fedora and his bare feet. His box cutter's bright orange plastic had been painted matte black.
"Oh he did, did he. What else has Cujo been teaching you? And why the hell are you talking to Cujo anyway?"
"Since you and the Baron are joining your houses, I have to talk to his general too! He knows lots about being general! We have to have the same uniform, so we don't get mistaken for enemies." He tugged at the lapels of his jacket. I could feel a twitch starting up in one eye.
"Marcone and I aren't joining anything. We're still Harry and Marcone. Separate. Just..with a kid." I eyed him. He hadn't changed the uniform until really recently. "You haven't been talking to Hendricks for very long, have you?" He gave a surprisingly full bodied snort.
"For ages Harry. Ages and ages." Of course, ages could have been a week to Toot. His sense of time was not precisely reliable. He thumped his little butt down in the middle of my palm and crossed his legs. "The uniforms didn't matter until now. But now we're all together, so we had to change. You're not just sporting anymore." I shook my head. I was not going to argue with Toot about it and this was making me lose sight of the original problem anyway.
"Toot, you're still my general, right?" He nodded, the little hat flopping off his head and into his lap. Toot performed a little flip with it, threw it into the air and it landed on his head. It really was cute. "Then why are you stealing my things? I'm missing coffee, soda, and now there's a potion ingredient missing from the lab, Toot. That's no good."
"General Hendricks explained about human babies, Harry. And he buys stuffed crust pizza. Stuffed crust. You can't have those things back. It's for your own good." He crossed his arms and I had to bite my lip. Toot was trying to imitate Hendricks' looming pose of authority.
"Okay, but I'm over that now. I don't want the coffee back." Not for another six, seven months at least. "But you can't just go around taking my stuff, Toot. I need that bottle of syrup back. It's not the same thing as the sodas. I don't plan on drinking it. I need it for a spell."
"I turned it over to General Hendricks, with all the other counterbands."
"That's okay. I'll get it back from him. But from now on, Toot, you don't take things without checking with me first. Got it?" He hopped up, saluting.
"Ayeaye, ma'am!" And then he was gone. I sighed and headed back into my place. Toot could be excused for not knowing the difference between soda and the syrup. Hendricks damn well knew better.
Hendricks answered on the second ring.
"You're an ass, Cujo. A giant, flaming ass and I'm going to turn you blue. Like a fucking Smurf."
"It's always a delight to hear from you."
"Stop getting Toot to steal things for you. He doesn't know any better."
"He came to me, Dresden. The little guy wants to do his job right. So I'm just making sure he knows everything he needs to know to take care of you. Why is that a problem?"
"Because-" I broke off, shaking my head. "I don't need taking care of, you giant lug. I'm pregnant, not helpless." I hung up on him. A soft creak brought my head around to the still open door into the lab. And to Molly's head ducking down just a split second too late. "Well, hell. Where do you think you're going?"
She popped back up, smiling sheepishly as she climbed up into the apartment.
"So, I guess you forgot I was coming over?"
"I've had a few other things on my mind."
"Yeah, I guess so." Her eyes lit on the phone before going straight to my middle. "Really?"
"Don't tell your parents. I am so very much not in the mood for that lecture, okay?"
"Sure."
~
Charity called me a little bit after eight.
"You and your boyfriend will be coming to dinner next Saturday at seven."
"Uh?"
"Dinner. Seven. Michael and I would like to meet him."
Damn. I was obviously not instilling the proper amount of fear in my apprentice. Then again, it was Charity. I'm not sure I was up to out doing her.
~
"'lo?" I blinked sleepily at the clock over my fireplace. Hells bells, it was only eleven. I'd been asleep for maybe an hour and a half. On the couch, again. My neck and back were cramped and I started to stretch out, slowly. I shouldn't sit up and read. I was going to burn the place down or throw out my back.
"Harry?"
"Murphy!" I was wide awake. She sounded cautious. But she was on the phone, so that was an improvement, right?
"I've got a body down at the morgue I need you to take a look at. Can you come down?"
"Ah, Murph, what about...Marcone." And all the issues that came with him.
"It's not- it's not a case. So it's off the clock. But I think it's related to that thing with the Tuck kid. You're blacklisted from CPD forever, Harry. Nothing is going to change that." I thought I heard her sigh down the line. "Are you coming or what?"
"I'm coming."
~
Murphy met me outside, leaning against the wall of the old building. I did my best to smile at her and think happy, friendly thoughts. Like I could force everything to be okay if I just acted like it was. She smiled back, politely, but there was no warmth in it.
"Butters is waiting for us." Murphy dove right into it, pushing off the wall and leading me into the morgue. I followed, quiet. "This guy, Mr. David Wadsworth, calls out sick from his job for a week. Someone gets nervous when they don't hear from him, so they go around to his house. He's sitting in his living room, staring at the tv. Nothing they do gets his attention, and his skin is clammy, pulse jumping all over the place.
"They call an ambulance, but by the time the EMT's get to him, he's just stopped. Dead. Bam."
"Drugs?"
"Nothing." We turned a corner and I could hear Butters' voice speaking into a tape recorder. Murphy stopped. "Butters didn't find anything weird. But the symptoms the guy described. Maybe it's nothing. But I've got the feeling that the two are connected."
"I'll look at him." She nodded.
"I'll be out here. I want to talk to you when you're done." Murphy's mouth twisted. "It's not about the case."
I poked my head into the examination room, waving at Butters. He flicked the recorder off and put it down on the side of the room farthest away from the body.
"Hi Harry! I hear congratulations are in order." The little ME was going to break something if he didn't tone down the smile. At least someone in the building was happy.
"Thanks, Butters. Can I see the body now?" He bustled back over to the exam table and it's sheet covered contents. On the way, he reached up to pat in my shoulders general vicinity.
"She's mad, but you two'll make up."
"I'm not sure you make up from this kind of thing. I fucked up."
"My God! So you did. The great Harry Dresden, not perfect. How ever will the world continue to spin?"
I gave him a little smile and turned my attention to the body. He hadn't been a very large man, thin but without any muscle. Light brown hair that almost hid the gray that was sneaking in and darkly tanned skin. Which was a trick in early fall in Chicago.
I didn't see any obvious signs of trauma, aside from the closed incision on his chest, so I pushed my magic out toward the body, seeing if there was any residual feeling of the ghost. Nothing. Okay. Fine. Just a quick peek with my Sight. I owed it to Murphy.
I regretted it. He hadn't been dead for very long, so there was still an echo effect of his spirit left behind. The soul itself had moved on, but I could see a pale after image of it. His soul wasn't the worst thing I'd ever seen, but it wasn't pretty either. The damage was all to his head. It looked like a piece or wormy driftwood or an ant farm. Thin bits of solidity riddled with holes. He'd been eaten, and his body hadn't been able to deal with the strain of the damage. I looked away, shut my Sight back down before I could see anything else.
"You okay, Harry? You're kind of pale. And your nose is bleeding." Butters handed me a tissue, and I wiped at the blood on my upper lip, packing it against my nose.
"Fine. Thanks." I slumped against a wall, suddenly very tired. If I'd found the ghost, David Wadsworth would still be alive. I'd missed something, and it had killed a man. "Thanks for letting me take a look." I patted Butters' shoulder. "I'll talk to you later."
Murphy was waiting for me.
"It's the same thing." I closed my eyes. They were dry and aching. "I'm sorry, Murph. I didn't think these things killed people. Bob said they weren't destructive to the host. I screwed up."
"You couldn't know." She reached out and took my hand, squeezing. "You can only work with the info you have, and I know you were looking for this thing. We'll just have to look harder now. I'll cross check the paths of our two victims, see if there's any overlap."
"Thanks." I opened my eyes and smiled down at her. "Find it and I'll go kick it's ass." We let go of each other and Murphy rocked back on her heels. "What'd you want to talk about?"
"This." She picked up a small backpack and handed it to me. "These are copies of some of the crimes we suspect Marcone's involvement in. We can't prove anything, of course. But I want you to look at them. I think he's got you blinded to who he really is, Harry."
I took the bag and opened it up, pulled the first file out. I flicked through it, seeing the crime scene pictures. A young man, dead on the ground, beaten. A single gunshot wound to his temple. The report gave more detail. He'd been a drug dealer, suspected of selling to a high school student who'd overdosed. I snapped it closed, dropped it back into the bag and rifled through some of the others, feeling Murphy's eyes on me the whole time. Pimps, drug dealers, rapists. Thieves who didn't pay their dues and who accidentally fell down stairs. I'd seen worse than the damage done to some of them. Some of it made my throat tight.
Through it all, I saw Marcone's eyes. The cold, unfeeling shine of them while he was working. Irritated when I did something particularly obnoxious. Laughing, smiling. Quietly shocked and wondering sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking.
The last folder was Amanda Beckitt. There was no autopsy photo, of course. But the crime scene itself told the story, and the pictures of her clothes, bloodstained and that one deadly hole. I ran my thumb over the curve of her cheek in a school photo that had been included and I shook my head, put it back with the others and handed the bag to Murphy.
"I know exactly who he is, Karrin. I always have." I shrugged, helpless. "It doesn't matter. I'm not a good person. I've killed. I've even enjoyed it, on occasion." I would never lose the memory of the satisfaction I felt seeing those ghouls burn, burning away my sorrow over the children they'd murdered. "Maybe we deserve each other."
*offers puddle a tissue*
I'll fix it, eventually!
I'll fix it, eventually!
I know! It made me sad, too. :(
I'll get to Lea, I swear! She's probably having little puppies of delight that Harry's pregnant and pregnant by Marcone, who is so obviously suitable as a mate. :D
Mmm...I'll have to go look that prompt up to see if there's anything specific requested in it. I'll see what I can do to incorporate it in.
Mmm...I'll have to go look that prompt up to see if there's anything specific requested in it. I'll see what I can do to incorporate it in.
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