There are two types of knowledge you can gain about a person. First is concrete, such as what color their eyes are, what school they went to or when they broke a forearm falling from a bicycle. The second – and much more important at that – is generalized: what they believe in, what they would think on hearing certain news or what they would do in a certain situation. My interactions with Johnny were mostly about this latter category. People tend to omit names and descriptions that are not important to their stories anyway, so we never had much trouble keeping privacy. Funnily enough, you don’t need much in way of solid facts to understand a person.
If I were completely honest with myself, most of the time I consciously avoided asking too factual questions. I knew perfectly well that he was an actual person with a whole life of his own but I selfishly wanted him to remain mine. I stupidly thought that if I didn’t get reminders of his other engagements I would not have to share him with all the nameless, faceless people that waited on the other end of our private connection. I should have known that this avoidance would come to bite me in the ass.
We talked regularly but with my new job and his unknown-but-certainly-there workload it was quite normal if I wasn’t able to chat with Johhny for a day or two. So I’ve noticed that something wasn’t right only after three days of silence. He didn’t reply when I called and what was even stranger, I couldn’t hear anything from his end. Generally I was able to somewhat feel his presence and catch faint echoes of thoughts even when he was busy with something and unable to answer. But this complete absence was unpleasantly new and terrifying.
I tried different explanations but they were all just an attempt to stave off the panic gathering at the edges of my mind. What if I never heard from him again? What if he’s dead? The struggle of keeping these thoughts locked away consumed me so thoroughly that Nick was forced to send me home as, in his words, I was obviously coming down with something.
It was a good thing too, because when I didn’t have cases to distract myself from my worries I’ve finally remembered that I’m a wizard. True, I couldn’t use thaumaturgy without some sort of anchor in material world but with a connection like ours meditation was my best bet at finding out what was going on. I went all out: cleansing rituals, white robes and an elaborate circle to block any outward influence. Finally, with a deep breath of incense filled air I sunk into myself.
The principles of sympathetic magic work everywhere indiscriminately. If I wanted to find Johnny I needed to surround myself with things belonging to him. In my mind those were my memories. I drew all the little tidbits of knowledge I gained from the time I first realized there was a stranger in my head and gathered them around me, straightening them out, hooking them up with each other and creating an image of a hall that would eventually lead me to the person I sought.
It seemed that ages had passed before I felt a first wisp of presence but when I did surprise and relief almost made me lose my concentration. I jerked forward along the thread of our connection, calling out his name in an almost desperate need to hear his voice again.
“Harry?” He responded absently, as if nothing wrong happened in the last week and a half. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
What. The. Fuck?!
“Is it all you’re going to say, you bastard?” I exploded. “I’ve been worried sick, dreading the worst and now all you say is it’s been a while?!”
“I’m sorry,” John’s voice was emphatically indifferent, “I had some things to think about on my own.”
Did someone tamper with Johnny’s mind? It was the only explanation that seemed somewhat plausible to me at that point. The first thing he usually asked when we started talking was whether I was all right; but now he brushes me aside just like that? I learned the theory behind mind-manipulation well enough to know that sudden changes in behavior were the first sign of trouble on that front…
But then there was all that knowledge I gained about Johnny, his thoughts and reactions, and it guided me to a different conclusion.
“Was it something you absolutely couldn’t discuss with me?” I asked tentatively. “Did you want to shield me from something?”
It was as if a wall crumbled before me. Our connection opened fully and was flooded by a strong sense of… disturbance, unrest that went deeper then words or even emotions.
“You’re becoming frighteningly good at reading me, Harry,” John muttered with what I imagined was a shake of his head.
“Well, I’m the voice in your head, after all,” I joked, repeating one of his favorite phrases. I didn’t try to press him; I knew he would start talking only when he deemed it necessary. But mostly I just enjoyed the restored sense of closeness – I only now realized how much I missed it while John had been shutting himself away.
“A girl has taken a bullet meant for me.”
The few short words managed to completely shatter the calm engulfing me. I felt my hair standing on end and my skin breaking out in goosebumps. These words meant that all the horrors I’ve been imagining were much closer to the truth then was good for my peace of mind. And so, my first question was utterly selfish.
“Are you unharmed?”
Johnny laughed. It was a painful, wrenching sound I never wanted to hear again.
“What the hell can happen to me?” he croaked finally. “I always get out of any mess without a scratch! But she… she was just there, on that line between me and a gun. They saw her.” His voice was firming out, loosing that cracking edge it had before. “How could they not, she was right there. They must have known they’d hit her instead of me but they still continued firing.” A pause. “I could not do a damn thing to stop them,” he ground out suddenly, “I’ve looked death in the face but it never mocked me like this before…”
I knew I needed to say something. Johnny helped me through the worst period of my life; I’ve lost count of the times he soothed me after nightmares and persuaded me that I didn’t really do anything wrong. Now it was my turn… but there was no way I was pulling the ‘It’s not your fault’ card without sounding mocking or patronizing.
I entered the hall formed of my Johnny-memories again and took a deep breath.
“I know you’re not feeling guilty,” I said firmly. John would never accept reassurances, only statements of fact. “You are a rational man and reason dictates that you were in no way responsible for making that shot. You are angry. Those people – whoever they were and whatever their purposes – had no right to sacrifice an innocent life, nothing can justify that. So, you are furious.” I touched the memories of protective rage Johnny exuded when talking about White Council and my treatment at their hands to see what was the next step of his reactions. “You want to get back at them. Make them pay for their callousness. Make sure they won’t ever be able to do something like that again.”
I didn’t need to hear confirmation to know I was right. I only hoped my words conveyed not only my knowledge but also my tacit approval.
“John,” I said after a timeless silence, “Is your life still in danger? Do you want me to… help you?” My heart was in my throat, choking the last words.
“No.” His answer rang out as a cast-iron bell, rattling me to the bone. “Don’t you dare think about it! You are so… God, I don’t want to see you shielding me from bullets.”
“I have an actual magic shield for that,” I supplied helpfully.
“Stop it, Harry! I will be all right, and you don’t need all this shit in addition to you own.”
I was going to object. I wanted to say that I was a big boy now and I could hold my own against threats both mundane and supernatural but he beat me to it. “I don’t want to lose you, Harry. I was once sure that I would and I don’t want the repeat experience. So please, let’s not argue about this.”
I gave a mental equivalent of a curt nod.
“Is she alive?” I asked after a while.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“Probably.”
“Are you going to shut me out again?”
Johnny chuckled.
“I know I won’t be able to stop you if you really put your mind to it, so no.”
I suddenly felt tired. Reopening the connection against Johnny’s will took a lot of energy and now, when my worries were mostly soothed and our status quo more or less restored it was time to return to the real world and rest.
“Harry.” His voice caught me just as I was going to withdraw. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“If you are ever in danger, if your life is threatened, you must tell me immediately. I need to be able to help you.”
“So what, I can’t do this rescue thing but you can?” I snapped. “That’s rich!”
“I don’t ever want to feel this helpless again. Promise, Harry.” I really, truly was going to refuse if not for his tone. It was not demanding as I expected, it was sincerely pleading.
“I promise.”
I couldn’t even get angry at Johnny for asking this. I was basically wreathed in understanding: I was a person important to him and therefore someone to be protected at all costs. He was not going to let me help him in whatever put his life at risk but if I were to ask him for help instead he would do almost anything for me. Actually, it was a temptation that was surprisingly hard to fight.
I made one more promise to myself that day: I would never go looking for Johnny. I was selfish enough already endlessly whining to him about my problems, I didn’t need to burden them with solving them too. I was a wizard, after all, I needed stand on my own two feet and deal with them myself!
So I ruthlessly squashed all my curiosity and carefully locked away all my hypotheses about Johnny’s role in real life.
For both our sakes I intended for my friend to remain imaginary.
~!~
That was… complicated. I feel like I need to comment on my reasoning a bit, so feel free to skip the rant if you’re not interested.
I made John’s speech choppy at times. That’s because I imagined him reliving the situation a thousand times already. It broke into snapshots that made perfect sense to him but taken out of the whole picture would become meaningless.
Also I thought that Harry would care more for John’s wellbeing than for the actual situation. It was like, suppose, if your dear friend was standing near a stranger on a bus-stop and a drunk driver hit the stranger instead of your friend. You will of course feel pity for the dead but you’ll definitely worry more for your living friend.
Jeez, look at me ramble!
I’d really like to hear your opinion on plausibility, and if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.
I think your reasoning makes perfect sense. And Harry did ask if the girl was alive; it's not like he could know all the circumstances surrounding her being in a coma, so when Johnny reassures him that she is, he'd probably assume she's also going to be fine and move on.
I really like this story. I never knew I had such a kink for Protective!Marcone until I started reading it. Of course, it makes me all the more curious what's going to happen when they start moving closer to their Storm Front roles. I can see Harry not noticing that the new mafia boss is named Johnny, especially since he doesn't know his real name, but a wizard named Harry might be a bit harder to overlook.
What makes you think so? It's mentioned somewhere in the text that silence lasted for about 2 weeks. I skipped some time in general because nothing interesting happened (just regular chats about weather and the like XD)
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timeasmymeasure
My (not so) Imaginary Friend (3/?)
Date: 2011-03-25 12:39 am (UTC)If I were completely honest with myself, most of the time I consciously avoided asking too factual questions. I knew perfectly well that he was an actual person with a whole life of his own but I selfishly wanted him to remain mine. I stupidly thought that if I didn’t get reminders of his other engagements I would not have to share him with all the nameless, faceless people that waited on the other end of our private connection. I should have known that this avoidance would come to bite me in the ass.
We talked regularly but with my new job and his unknown-but-certainly-there workload it was quite normal if I wasn’t able to chat with Johhny for a day or two. So I’ve noticed that something wasn’t right only after three days of silence. He didn’t reply when I called and what was even stranger, I couldn’t hear anything from his end. Generally I was able to somewhat feel his presence and catch faint echoes of thoughts even when he was busy with something and unable to answer. But this complete absence was unpleasantly new and terrifying.
I tried different explanations but they were all just an attempt to stave off the panic gathering at the edges of my mind. What if I never heard from him again? What if he’s dead? The struggle of keeping these thoughts locked away consumed me so thoroughly that Nick was forced to send me home as, in his words, I was obviously coming down with something.
It was a good thing too, because when I didn’t have cases to distract myself from my worries I’ve finally remembered that I’m a wizard. True, I couldn’t use thaumaturgy without some sort of anchor in material world but with a connection like ours meditation was my best bet at finding out what was going on. I went all out: cleansing rituals, white robes and an elaborate circle to block any outward influence. Finally, with a deep breath of incense filled air I sunk into myself.
The principles of sympathetic magic work everywhere indiscriminately. If I wanted to find Johnny I needed to surround myself with things belonging to him. In my mind those were my memories. I drew all the little tidbits of knowledge I gained from the time I first realized there was a stranger in my head and gathered them around me, straightening them out, hooking them up with each other and creating an image of a hall that would eventually lead me to the person I sought.
It seemed that ages had passed before I felt a first wisp of presence but when I did surprise and relief almost made me lose my concentration. I jerked forward along the thread of our connection, calling out his name in an almost desperate need to hear his voice again.
“Harry?” He responded absently, as if nothing wrong happened in the last week and a half. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
What. The. Fuck?!
“Is it all you’re going to say, you bastard?” I exploded. “I’ve been worried sick, dreading the worst and now all you say is it’s been a while?!”
“I’m sorry,” John’s voice was emphatically indifferent, “I had some things to think about on my own.”
Did someone tamper with Johnny’s mind? It was the only explanation that seemed somewhat plausible to me at that point. The first thing he usually asked when we started talking was whether I was all right; but now he brushes me aside just like that? I learned the theory behind mind-manipulation well enough to know that sudden changes in behavior were the first sign of trouble on that front…
But then there was all that knowledge I gained about Johnny, his thoughts and reactions, and it guided me to a different conclusion.
“Was it something you absolutely couldn’t discuss with me?” I asked tentatively. “Did you want to shield me from something?”
It was as if a wall crumbled before me. Our connection opened fully and was flooded by a strong sense of… disturbance, unrest that went deeper then words or even emotions.
“You’re becoming frighteningly good at reading me, Harry,” John muttered with what I imagined was a shake of his head.
“Well, I’m the voice in your head, after all,” I joked, repeating one of his favorite phrases. I didn’t try to press him; I knew he would start talking only when he deemed it necessary. But mostly I just enjoyed the restored sense of closeness – I only now realized how much I missed it while John had been shutting himself away.
“A girl has taken a bullet meant for me.”
The few short words managed to completely shatter the calm engulfing me. I felt my hair standing on end and my skin breaking out in goosebumps. These words meant that all the horrors I’ve been imagining were much closer to the truth then was good for my peace of mind. And so, my first question was utterly selfish.
“Are you unharmed?”
Johnny laughed. It was a painful, wrenching sound I never wanted to hear again.
“What the hell can happen to me?” he croaked finally. “I always get out of any mess without a scratch! But she… she was just there, on that line between me and a gun. They saw her.” His voice was firming out, loosing that cracking edge it had before. “How could they not, she was right there. They must have known they’d hit her instead of me but they still continued firing.” A pause. “I could not do a damn thing to stop them,” he ground out suddenly, “I’ve looked death in the face but it never mocked me like this before…”
I knew I needed to say something. Johnny helped me through the worst period of my life; I’ve lost count of the times he soothed me after nightmares and persuaded me that I didn’t really do anything wrong. Now it was my turn… but there was no way I was pulling the ‘It’s not your fault’ card without sounding mocking or patronizing.
I entered the hall formed of my Johnny-memories again and took a deep breath.
“I know you’re not feeling guilty,” I said firmly. John would never accept reassurances, only statements of fact. “You are a rational man and reason dictates that you were in no way responsible for making that shot. You are angry. Those people – whoever they were and whatever their purposes – had no right to sacrifice an innocent life, nothing can justify that. So, you are furious.” I touched the memories of protective rage Johnny exuded when talking about White Council and my treatment at their hands to see what was the next step of his reactions. “You want to get back at them. Make them pay for their callousness. Make sure they won’t ever be able to do something like that again.”
I didn’t need to hear confirmation to know I was right. I only hoped my words conveyed not only my knowledge but also my tacit approval.
“John,” I said after a timeless silence, “Is your life still in danger? Do you want me to… help you?” My heart was in my throat, choking the last words.
“No.” His answer rang out as a cast-iron bell, rattling me to the bone. “Don’t you dare think about it! You are so… God, I don’t want to see you shielding me from bullets.”
“I have an actual magic shield for that,” I supplied helpfully.
“Stop it, Harry! I will be all right, and you don’t need all this shit in addition to you own.”
I was going to object. I wanted to say that I was a big boy now and I could hold my own against threats both mundane and supernatural but he beat me to it. “I don’t want to lose you, Harry. I was once sure that I would and I don’t want the repeat experience. So please, let’s not argue about this.”
I gave a mental equivalent of a curt nod.
“Is she alive?” I asked after a while.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“Probably.”
“Are you going to shut me out again?”
Johnny chuckled.
“I know I won’t be able to stop you if you really put your mind to it, so no.”
I suddenly felt tired. Reopening the connection against Johnny’s will took a lot of energy and now, when my worries were mostly soothed and our status quo more or less restored it was time to return to the real world and rest.
“Harry.” His voice caught me just as I was going to withdraw. “I need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“If you are ever in danger, if your life is threatened, you must tell me immediately. I need to be able to help you.”
“So what, I can’t do this rescue thing but you can?” I snapped. “That’s rich!”
“I don’t ever want to feel this helpless again. Promise, Harry.” I really, truly was going to refuse if not for his tone. It was not demanding as I expected, it was sincerely pleading.
“I promise.”
I couldn’t even get angry at Johnny for asking this. I was basically wreathed in understanding: I was a person important to him and therefore someone to be protected at all costs. He was not going to let me help him in whatever put his life at risk but if I were to ask him for help instead he would do almost anything for me. Actually, it was a temptation that was surprisingly hard to fight.
I made one more promise to myself that day: I would never go looking for Johnny. I was selfish enough already endlessly whining to him about my problems, I didn’t need to burden them with solving them too. I was a wizard, after all, I needed stand on my own two feet and deal with them myself!
So I ruthlessly squashed all my curiosity and carefully locked away all my hypotheses about Johnny’s role in real life.
For both our sakes I intended for my friend to remain imaginary.
That was… complicated. I feel like I need to comment on my reasoning a bit, so feel free to skip the rant if you’re not interested.
I made John’s speech choppy at times. That’s because I imagined him reliving the situation a thousand times already. It broke into snapshots that made perfect sense to him but taken out of the whole picture would become meaningless.
Also I thought that Harry would care more for John’s wellbeing than for the actual situation. It was like, suppose, if your dear friend was standing near a stranger on a bus-stop and a drunk driver hit the stranger instead of your friend. You will of course feel pity for the dead but you’ll definitely worry more for your living friend.
Jeez, look at me ramble!
I’d really like to hear your opinion on plausibility, and if you have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.
Re: My (not so) Imaginary Friend (3/?)
Date: 2011-03-25 01:10 am (UTC)Re: My (not so) Imaginary Friend (3/?)
Date: 2011-03-25 01:31 am (UTC)I really like this story. I never knew I had such a kink for Protective!Marcone until I started reading it. Of course, it makes me all the more curious what's going to happen when they start moving closer to their Storm Front roles. I can see Harry not noticing that the new mafia boss is named Johnny, especially since he doesn't know his real name, but a wizard named Harry might be a bit harder to overlook.
Re: My (not so) Imaginary Friend (3/?)
Date: 2011-03-25 02:28 am (UTC)Re: My (not so) Imaginary Friend (3/?)
Date: 2011-03-25 05:11 pm (UTC)