FicWad

Marcone’s POV

I had some time until Ms. Murphy would finish her daily shift and therefore be able to meet me by the lake, and so I had a thought; why not go visit the man causing all of this? Murphy had only told me not to converse with him until everything had been straightened out, and I felt that it had. After all, she believed me. Things were straight enough.

Of course, I had to first finish my own work; much though I might’ve wanted to, it wasn’t as if I could simply throw it all to the side whenever I caught the urge to see Harry. Hendricks would be bothered, you see. So, I did what I had to; I finished my work and made my way out to my car, not bothering to do anything more than inform someone that I was leaving. I was sure the news would reach everyone important at some point, and it wasn’t as if it were really a large deal.

The drive was easy, and I drove slowly for the simple pleasure of it; it wasn’t often that I got to drive on my own, recently, and I enjoyed things like that where I could. I was smiling a bit once I reached his apartment and pulled into his gravel lot (I truly did wish he’d let me fix the place up a bit; I could upgrade the security and the amenities here for next to nothing and make it far more comfortable for everyone) and continued to do so when I reached his door. I knocked first, of course, but when no one answered I got a bit nervous.

His death trap of a car was still outside, it was impossible to miss, so he couldn’t have gone anywhere. I knocked again and still heard nothing through the thick, steel door. Finally, I just clutched the charm in my jacket, one Gard had given me upon coming into my employ which she said would at least lessen the effects of any wards I happened to come across, and slammed the door open. I barely noticed the brutal shock that spread from my fingers out, barely noticed the burns on my palm and fingertips.

Melissa was there, on Harry’s lap, her hands sliding beneath his shirt and her own already long gone. In any other situation, with any other people, I’d have found the sight funny; her hands and her mouth were everywhere, confident and easy, but Harry, Harry had his hands demurely and steadfastly at her hips, his mouth simply following hers, and his eyes open wide, as if the pleasure of it all surprised him. As it was, I saw white flash behind my eyes and I was striding forward. I curled my hand into her hair to pull her away because I couldn’t use a shirt, and the source of Harry’s surprise changed.

“Hell’s Bells!” he yelped, the noise of it mixing with Melissa’s wordless yell as he stumbled to his feet. I dragged her a few feet from him, obviously not thinking clearly because I knew better, knew he could kill me with a stray thought if he wanted. It was only very rarely that I realized how much I relied on the fact that he didn’t seem to particularly want to.

“Let go of me! Harry, help me, damn it,” she cried, and I wanted to cover her mouth. Perhaps I would have if I’d have thought it would do any good, but we were, after all, standing in a very small apartment. I couldn’t see where stopping her from being so noisy would do much good.

“What the hell are you doing, Marcone?” Harry asked me, stepping closer slowly, as if he thought I’d pull a knife on the bitch. I wouldn’t, though; it’d be foolish of me to do something like that where so many people could so easily connect me to it. I couldn’t help but think that Nathan would be quite proud of me for that logic. It had honestly taken us both a long time to get to this point, strange as that may sound. Often people seem to forget our roots, where we came from, that neither of us were important before we drew ourselves that way. Either way, I had quite a few answers to his question, but I couldn’t think of any that would be appropriate, so I kept quiet.

His hand settled suddenly on top of mine and I nearly loosed my grip in my shock. His hands were large, I noted, but in length rather than width. That made them seem smaller than they truly were, I supposed, more graceful than stout. Much like the rest of him, I supposed; he could be far more threatening than he chose to be, with height like that, but he seemed to squander it. He hunched often, cut himself a few inches, and curled into himself. It was strange to think that way of a man who could send the whole building to cinders around us, but unless he was in the process of doing something like that, he was… he wasn’t the giant he could’ve been. Brave and proud and stubborn and clever, yes, he was all of that, but threatening, enormous, no. On a day to day basis, the only thing of his that could fill a room was his personality.

“Let go,” he told me, his black eyes a bit worried, “Are you alright? Has something… gotten a hold on you, or something? You’re not acting like yourself.” One extreme to another, anger to worry, that was him. I shook my head and his light grip, the curl, the cool warmth, of his fingers spurning me into releasing my grasp. Melissa scampered off towards his phone and dialed a number that thankfully contained more than three numbers. At least I wouldn’t be arrested again so quickly; it might’ve hampered my image a bit. I stepped back a bit.

“I’m alright. Harry, she’s not-,” I tried, but then I heard Murphy’s voice on the other end of the phone, angry, surprised, and she was coming here. Harry took me by the arm when I made an attempt to leave and though I could’ve pulled free, I didn’t. I don’t quite know why, but I felt as if he deserved that much.

“Sit down and be still until Murphy gets here. There’s something wrong with you,” he said, sparing a quick glance to Melissa, and he must’ve thought I was possessed but didn’t want to say it out loud for fear of exposing the woman to the truth of what he was, his life. I wondered how he explained away the lack of amenities in his home, the staff he carried, his blasting rod, his rings. He was an awful liar about things like that, things that didn’t really matter, but I supposed that some people were willing to believe anything if it kept them from having to think. I sat as he’d asked me because I could think to do little else. My thoughts were buzzing and my blood was burning so hot that it stung my skin. Running was beyond me and continued to be beyond me when Murphy marched inside, blue eyes a lightning storm.

“Marcone, what the holy hell are you doing here? I just arrested you, did you miss your cell that damn bad? Jesus, what the fuck were you even thinking?” she asked me, and I shook my head. “Harry, has he told you anything?” He shook his head as Melissa came over and he thoughtlessly draped his arm over his shoulder. Murphy had to grit her teeth at that and I was certain that my nails were digging welts into the arms of his chair. I hated her, I did, for more than one reason. Harry deserved so much better.

“Nope; seemed something close to hysterical, honestly. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. There doesn’t seem to be anything obvious going on, but something a little more subtle… could you keep an eye on him for an hour or so, at the precinct, maybe? Until I can manage to get there and look into things a little more thoroughly.” She nodded and dragged me up by the collar of my shirt. I had to work not to glare at her for the indignity, but I managed quite well.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Be careful, okay, Harry?” Her worry showed through in the vaguest of ways, distant and hidden. I never had figured out if she did things like that on purpose or if they were simply second nature to her as she dragged me outside. “You’re explaining,” she said as soon as the door shut, “Come on. Follow me to the lake.” I wondered what life would’ve been like, if I’d have never met Harry that day in my car. I’d have never fallen in love like this, never felt this incessant sting and burn, the throb of my heart when I saw him, the ache behind my eyes, and I’d sure as hell have never felt myself compelled to follow a police officer who I knew I could never buy to the side of a lake. I couldn’t help but think that I was glad I’d met Harry. Life, at least, was far more interesting with his influence.



Murphy’s POV

I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so horrifying as Marcone with a crush on somebody before now. I don’t know how I missed out on something so hellish for so long, but I really do understand what people mean by “ignorance is bliss” now. He’s just so… he’s serious in all that he does, yeah, but busting into someone’s apartment and tearing their girlfriend off of them by the hair (criminal and general not-good-girlfriend though she be) is just a tiny bit excessive. I pulled up to the edge of the lake and took off my helmet, looking out over the shimmering water. The wind coming off of it almost felt warm, now that spring was settling in.

Marcone was beside me, then, looking almost cowed even though I hadn’t even said anything. Maybe he’d heard stories, and that thought made me grin a little.

“So, you want to tell me what all of that was? I know you have some little crush on him, but I don’t even know what you were thinking, trying to pull that shit. You’re lucky you didn’t catch fire.” He sighed, his hand raking through his hair, tired looking and sad eyed. He was getting too damn good at making me feel bad for him, I decided.

“I love him,” he murmured, cradling his head in his hand as if he were revealing something shocking, something deep. “I couldn’t stand seeing that, seeing him with someone who only wants to hurt him. He’s amazing, Ms. Murphy, strong and proud and smart. He deserves someone who sees that, who wants to nurture it in him and make him smile, not someone who doesn’t give a damn. He deserves someone as beautiful as he is, someone to make him smile.” He had a desperate look on his face, when I caught sight of it, tight and worried. He looked like a man who wanted to say a lot more than he had.

“I know,” I told him, slow, “I understand. I feel the same way. This isn’t the way to go about it, though, any of it. You’re an adult, Johnny. You don’t just barge into someone’s house and grab a woman by the hair for no readily visible reason. Jesus, Harry’s normally the one I have to give lectures like this to; he might be right about something being wrong with you.” He shook his head and when he looked at me his green eyes were vibrant as ever, clear and lacking any sort of haze. I knew then that he was as sane as he’d ever been, for what that was worth. There’d always been something about him, something a little off; a little not quite normal, but then, he liked Harry. Harry didn’t attract people that were totally normal, and yeah, I know I just said that I probably wasn’t totally normal.

I couldn’t have been sure about that before that exact moment, though. No, it was that second, by the lake, that I realized that I was probably totally insane too. See, it was right then that I decided that I was going to have to help John Marcone hook up with my best friend. Yeah, I’ll give you a minute to take that in; god knows I needed one.

“I realize, and I apologize. I don’t know what came over me; I suppose I’ll just have to keep Mr. Hendricks close at hand until this is all resolved.” I sighed. This guy was a slime ball, the lead slime ball, as a matter of fact. He was a pain in my ass in all forms. He was a crook and he did everything with that sly, suave, cooler-than-you look on his face, in his stance, that just ate at me until I wanted to throw him into a lake despite all the legal (and moral, and oh, shit, there’s his angry criminal underlings coming to kill me for revenge) ramifications that doing so would probably involve. And yet I thought he would be good for Harry. I don’t even know why I thought that, honestly, but if there’s one thing that I’ve learned from Harry, it’s that I should trust my instincts more often. I sighed one more time, from somewhere deep and low in my chest. I really wanted him to know that I was having a hard time with this and he should really appreciate the sacrifices I was making, you see.

“Shut up, Marcone. Look, just… I’ll help you, okay? Tomorrow I’ll get him to come out to lunch with me or something, without her, and I’ll tell him what’s going on. Not all the stuff you just told me yet, obviously, but I’ll figure out a way to get you alone with him. As it stands, try not to have another stroke and attack people for no apparent reason, yeah? The general public frowns on that just a little.” He smiled, wan but genuine, and I couldn’t help but hope he’d show Harry that smile more often. It was a whole hell of a lot more real than a lot of the others I’d seen from him, and Harry… Harry appreciates the real ones. He’s told me as much more than once.



It took a while, but when I called Harry about twenty minutes later, I managed to convince him that I knew Marcone was fine and therefore didn’t need to be checked for possession (which, yes, did involve a lot of lying and possibly an admission that Marcone had finally just gone totally insane and I would call someone to commit him later) and then managed to get him to agree to come out for lunch with just me instead of bringing Melissa along too. That part took surprisingly less coaxing; maybe she’d been dragging him out on too many dates. He never had particularly enjoyed going out to places with his significant others more than maybe once every week or two, or on special occasions; he’d always been more of a stay-at-home-and-cuddle-on-the-couch-and-read-books-together kind of guy. Generally the best you could hope for with him was a trip to a drive-in or a quick lunch at a coffee shop, so most people either organized dates themselves or learned to love his particular brand of old-world romance. Melissa had appeared to fall firmly in the former camp. I thought bitterly that that was only show she could get him out in the open, get him hurt. I wondered if I’d get to punch her just once, before all was said and done.

Anyway, Harry drove up to the café I’d asked him to meet me at in his little patchwork beetle, (I refused to call it the Blue Beetle anymore, unlike him) and sat across from me. His crane fly legs sprawled under the table and his knobby knees knocked very slightly against mine no matter how he tried to situate himself in the chair. I cleared my throat because while I might be a cop, they don’t train you on how to tell your friend that his girlfriend is a criminal who’s probably trying to get him really dead. Of course, they also don’t train you on how to hook a mob boss up with said friend, but I’d just slapped that onto my list of duties too, so I guess I’ve been doing a lot of things lately that I haven’t been trained for. I figured that, with Harry, the direct approach was probably best. I cleared my throat and made the jump before he even managed to order a drink.

“Melissa’s a crook.” He stopped. I’d have said that everything else did too, but I’m not that dramatic, and it wasn’t true anyway. If anything, the surroundings only got noisier at that point. He stared at me, blinked slow, and finally spoke.

“What?” Of course. He’s smart when it comes to a crime scene, smarter than some of the investigators, really, and he’s smart when it comes to deductions and questioning and legwork and all of those other things that are integral to his job. He reads people better than damn near anyone I’ve ever met, and the magic is obviously a plus. And then you talk to him about relationships and he suddenly becomes the slowest dumbass on the planet.

“You heard what I said, Harry. I looked into her, just to be safe. She got kicked down to SI because her boss suspected her of leaking information to the various criminal syndicates, which surprisingly didn’t include Marcone, and her bank accounts are loaded with cash from one of Torelli’s aliases. Then, when I came into work, I heard her talking on the phone with someone, I don’t know who, and they were talking about you. She’s going to betray you, Harry.” He stared at me, blank, and he never looked at me that way. He never looked at anyone that way; hell, I hadn’t even known that he could do blank.

“Murphy,” he mumbled, and I could see the hurt on his features, “Why are you jumping to conclusions? Maybe they were forcing her.” He’d defend the people he cared about to the death, straight through hell or high water. I shook my head.

“How often do people like Torelli pay the people they’re forcing under their thumb? You know I don’t want to tell you this.” He coughed and hid it under a laugh, propped his forehead in his hands, and laughed again.

“You’ve never lied to me before, Karrin. I’m not going to accuse you of it now. I just… Murphy, am I ever going to… is anyone ever going to just… like me? Not want to kill me? She doesn’t even know about magic. What’ve I done to… I just want someone to… Hell’s Bells,” he mumbled, and I reached over to clutch at his shoulder. He laughed again and shook his head, turning to look up at me. He was flushed a little at the peaks of his cheeks, but beyond that, he looked like he always did. His eyes were just slightly shuttered, his shoulders were set in a tense line, his mouth tight and tilted just slightly down. It was only in the strange moments like this that I realized just how often he hid from me, from everybody.

“She’s just not the one. You’re a good man, Harry. Whoever it is, you’ll find them. You’ll get to be happy one day; I know that even if I don’t know anything else.” His lips tilted up for a moment instead of down, the shutters lifted and I saw the traces of sadness in his eyes. And these moments, these were the ones where I realized how much he trusted me. I felt privileged to count myself among the select few he loved and trusted, I always had. He nodded slowly as he stood and began to walk back towards his car.

“I don’t… I don’t feel like lunch today, okay, Murphy? We’ll meet up in a few days. Just, not right now. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?” I could understand that, so I nodded, and then he was gone.

I might’ve lied about the stuff I just said, a little. I could understand it, and he did leave. I just, you know, followed him. Look, I’ve left him alone when he was upset before and it hasn’t turned out well. It’s not that I didn’t trust him or anything like that; I did, it’s just, he gets… hooked on things. He dwells on them, thinks everything is his fault somehow. It’s sort of like, oh, hey; remember that meteor that destroyed the dinosaurs? Well, fuck me for not being born then and therefore unable to make a giant-ass shield to protect them from it. I try to keep him from getting to that point when I can, or at least make it a little more cushioned, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s in that state. Sometimes that involves following him just a little while he’s still in the “I don’t want to talk to anyone” stage. Look, it’s not my fault that I worry about him, okay?

Besides, it was probably a good thing I did, that day, because when he pulled up to his apartment, there was Melissa, smiling, her hands held out as if she panned on greeting him with a hug. I rolled my eyes and bit at my lip for a moment, my hand curling instinctively around empty air. He looked so distraught, standing there in front of her, his hands spreading expansively around him, his mouth moving around words I couldn’t hear. She looked surprised, then desperate, her hands tightening in Harry’s shirt, and I edged my bike a little closer before I climbed off and edged closer myself. I ducked behind a car as soon as I was close enough to hear her.

“No, Harry, please! At first, yes, I was… I planned on hurting you, on giving you over to the highest bidder, but now… you’re a good man, Harry. I think I’ve grown to care for you far more than I should have. Give me a chance, please? I’ll cut ties, I’ll let you watch me do it! I want to be with you, Harry. Just let me show you, and we can be like we were. Weren’t you happy with me?” I could see the pain behind his eyes, the way his fingers curled into the sleeves of his duster. I wanted to shake him because I could also see him wanting to believe her; I could see him falling for it. He was too trusting, he always had been, even when he swore up and down that he wasn’t. I almost thought it was strange, after all he’d gone through, all he’d seen. Usually it just made me want to hit him a few times and see if that would shake some sense loose in his dense skull. Finally he nodded and I wanted to scream.

She started walking and he followed her, his head down and his steps slowed and shortened to match hers. I followed behind them too, careful and distant. He’d be pissed if he caught me, and that wasn’t what I was after. He’d get over it once I saved his ass for the millionth time, but still, if I got caught, he might make it so I couldn’t follow him or something. He’s pulled shit like that sometimes and nearly gotten himself killed for it.



I don’t know how far we went, or where exactly we ended up, because none of that was what I was paying attention to. No, my attention was currently focused on the guns that were aimed at Harry, the sharp streak of hurt and betrayal (how could he still be like this, so trusting, after everything? He should’ve been jaded, cold and closed, nothing like this man with emotion painted starkly over every fiber of him) coating his face. The idea that he needed someone like Marcone hit me suddenly.

I didn’t particularly like the man; he was annoying in all that he did, and I was pretty sure that was what he existed to be, a foil to me and to everyone I cared about. Sometimes the hero needs a villain, though. I think Harry might be one of those heroes, guileless in matters of trust and forgiveness, and Marcone could keep him straight, or at least straighter. I swallowed as stared, and the sound of countless safeties being flicked off filled the room.

“Melissa?” he asked, and she laughed as she swayed her way over to Torelli, draped herself over his arm.

“Oh, Harry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They would’ve killed me!” she said, a teasing tone to her voice, and Torelli grasped her by her hip. Harry’s blasting rod was in his hand, then, slipped from inside his jacket sleeve, and the tip of it glowed orange in the shadow of the alley where we stood. I finally stepped closer, stepped into the limelight and drew attention to myself.

“Dresden! What the fuck were you thinking? I told you what she did, you goddamn dumbass!” I played at being pissed and he played at being cowed. That was just how we worked, I think; it made things easier because it made it so I didn’t have to admit that I was worried or that I cared and he didn’t have to show how sorry he was for making me feel that way. It was just cleaner all around, really.

“I’m stupid, I know. Can you yell at me later?” he asked, and yeah, that was probably for the best. Melissa giggled again and waved a hand, and slowly the guns lowered at the gesture. Torelli glared at her. Apparently she was more than just a leak, then; Torelli had given her power.

“Well, look who’s here! You hate her too, right? I can more understand your grudge with her, though; she’s a real bitch! I think the fact that I got her too means I get a bonus, though,” she said, her voice now a sing-song, and Torelli took a quick moment to flash his teeth.

“She ain’t the reason I wanted him, Lissy; only reason I give a fuck about him is because killing him will piss Johnny off.” Oh, hell. Of course. Of course this was somehow his fault; hadn’t basically everything been at least partially his fault lately? Harry looked ready to stride forward and partake in his unique brand of ‘fixing’ the situation. I held him back; it wouldn’t be good for either of us if we had to explain another burned building, or injured people. We could get out of this another way.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. That’s all you talk about anymore, darling! I might start to think you don’t love me anymore,” she said, laughter still in her voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he murmured, “And get the bastard secure. I think I want Johnny to see him die.” And that was my cue to let Harry loose, obviously. His fire blazed a little higher on the tip of his blasting rod and I quickly slipped my own gun from my jacket and stepped very slightly out of his way. The goons surrounding us had their own up again with equal speed, and I heard some clicks that would’ve normally culminated in booms, their shock and their fear almost palpable around us. Harry had this really proud look on his face and I laughed because of course he’d broken them. They were all staring at us, caught between terror and surprise, and that made me proud too. Harry, he’d just shown Melissa what he was worth, the magic at his fingertips, and she didn’t know what to do with it. None of them did. That only proved how little they should matter to him. I pulled my cuffs from my belt and even though she was far from the largest threat in the room, I used them on Melissa and called for backup on the rest of them. She jerked and squirmed, trying to get loose, and cursed the both of us, me and Harry, but I could hardly hear her for the satisfaction. This would show her, show her what she’d thrown away, show her the worth of the people she insulted and saw as nothing. I jerked her arms just once, hard, because I’m not petty at all.

Everything went fast from there. Torelli and his goons all tried to run, but it’s pretty amazing what a wall of fire in front of an alley’s exits can stop (sometimes Harry scared even me with the power he possessed, with the sheer control he held, the sheer force he mastered, but something in me always promised that I’d never feel the sting of his anger, the burn of his fire, and while that didn’t always alleviate the fear, it made me realize that it was silly). My people came in and a lot of arrests were made. Rawlins thanked Harry and me, his face jovial, and the people were being slowly dragged out, cussing up storms and struggling but there were a lot of cops and they had guns that hadn’t committed technological suicide.

Soon enough the alley was empty but for him and me and then he was on the ground. I followed him down, worried, but he shook his head.

“I am sorry, Murphy,” he murmured, “I just... I wanted to believe she liked me, that it was all a misunderstanding. I know I’m not gorgeous or anything, and I know sometimes I can be… I know not everyone likes my personality, but since Susan left, I’ve just wanted someone and I was so happy when she was interested but she wasn’t really and-.” I cut him off there.

“It’s okay,” I said, and I would’ve said that I understood, but I didn’t, really. “I’ve said before that you’ll find someone. It just isn’t her; she doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway. It’s okay, alright? Not right now, probably, but it will be.” He laughed, his head in his hand, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah.” I knew he didn’t really buy it, and I knew he wasn’t fine, but I also knew that pushing him wouldn’t do anything; he was too damn stubborn for it. We stood together and left the alley, slow, drudging. From there, we went to his apartment again, and while it took more than a little convincing and arguing, I finally decided that he’d be alright to be by himself for a little. I did extract a promise for him to call me if he needed me, though, and that was probably the best I’d ever get out of him, so I left.



Marcone’s POV

Ms. Murphy called me shortly after she reached her own home and informed me of all that had happened. Cruel though it may sound, I felt a certain thrill in my blood at the news.

“He’s upset, though. Don’t piss him off.” I smiled at the air, but worry still bit at me. Harry had long been known to do stupid things, when he was upset. I didn’t want one of those stupid things to happen again. What I wanted, however, rarely if ever seemed to matter that much to Harry Dresden. I needed to talk with him; if nothing else, how pissed off he got at me would distract him from how upset he was by everything else.

“I would never,” I said, and I could hear the frustration in her sigh. She and Nathan were kindred spirits, truly. I felt for the world if ever they met to exchange stories about Harry and I; both of our images would be tarnished beyond repair.

“Like I buy that for a second,” she murmured, and hung up. I laughed softly and stood, stretching my back before I left again, once again not bothering to say where I was going. It wasn’t as if no one would be able to deduce it anyway; I was generally far from subtle when things concerned Harry Dresden. I always assumed it was a piece of him rubbing off on me. I decided on the way that I’d try to explain my earlier actions, when I’d entered his home, decided that I’d try to get across what I felt. Perhaps if I was a bit more obvious about things, he’d finally understand why I’d done all I’d done, how I truly cared for him. I wouldn’t hold my breath, however; if I ever did that when he was concerned, I’d have died years ago.

The drive was quick and perhaps a bit dull, the activity tedious and familiar, the scenery common around me. I’d been here often enough, obviously, seen this street and these people and these signs god knew how many times before. I pulled into his parking lot with practiced ease despite the fact that it was a tricky turn for larger cars, and climbed out with equal thoughtlessness.

I straightened my suit (any comments about teenage girls and wanting to impress their boyfriends will not be appreciated or tolerated) and rapped against his door with my knuckles before I recalled that such a motion did not work on his door. No, to draw any attention when knocking on his door, one had to do everything short of slamming the entire weight of their body against said door. I always found it fascinating that he managed to incur every inconvenience of having a steel door, whilst the dents and warped places in the metal informed me that he didn’t reap the benefits. It took an unsurprisingly long length of time for him to answer, by the way, but eventually he did, and I appreciated as much. Not that I thought he’d have bothered with the courtesy if he had any way of knowing I was the one on the other side, but still yet.

“Hello, Harry.” He yawned.

“Don’t call me that, scumbag. I’m really going to have to key the wards to get you, you know that, right? At least you waited for me to answer today.” I smiled.

“I wanted to apologize, you see. Of course, had you not answered, there’s a chance that I’d have picked the lock, but I wanted to offer you the courtesy of interacting with me as an actual human being for a bit, rather than some type of prop for whatever madcap movie you happen to be pretending you’re the star of at the moment.” He snorted and leaned against the frame of his door, long, lean body a vision with the firelight shining from somewhere behind him. I’d never meet someone like him again, I knew; it simply wasn’t possible for more than one man so… him to exist.

“You know, I’d think most people were joking, if they said that. You, though? Yeah, I could actually buy all that. Also, no way in hell do I envision myself as the star of a movie; if anything, I’m the unlucky sidekick who everyone makes fun of.” I smiled, softly, as pleasantly as I could manage. I’d relax him first, I decided, perhaps lull him into inviting me inside, before I brought of the true matter of my visit.

“Is that so? Who am I, then, if not the prop?” He grinned, sharp, but there was less than his usual amount of bite behind it. He wasn’t at his best, obviously, but then I didn’t really expect him to be.

“You? Well, obviously you’re the suave villain character. Sort of like a male femme fatale.” I nodded, looking as thoughtful as I could at something so silly.

“And your friends?” He pursed his lips, and my god, but he was actually considering it.

“Huh. Well, Thomas is the hot male lead who all the ladies want, in the theater and out, of course. But not just one of the vapid ones that’s there to look pretty; he’s one of the ones with the tragic backstory and bad boy aura. Kincaid’s the badass action hero who ends every scene with an explosion, but everyone leaves his movies confused because his partner is made of basically every creepy little girl stereotype that has ever been in a movie ever, who is somehow still adorable and likable. Then, Murphy is… huh. Murphy’s like a mixture of jaded film noir detective and black-sheep-awesome-champion-boxer. Then Michael is the definition of all those priests who secretly fights evil.” It was almost funny, I noted, that all of his friends got leading roles while he cast himself as the sidekick.

“I might go to movies more often, if that’s what they began to play,” I said, and he snuffled again, I assumed in an attempt to sound haughty. I realized then that I was a fool, to instinctually consider a man like Harry (dangerous, always dangerous, with quick dark eyes and a quicker tongue, magic at his fingertips and always ready to burst forth) so damned… adorable. I did, though, at least when he was like this, relaxed as he ever was, a smile curling his thin lips, the sharp angles of his face softened just enough to make him welcoming, a wan curve to his spine.

“Yeah, well, you would. You’d probably get premiere tickets and everything. Bastard.” That startled a laugh out of me.

“Odd as it may sound, Harry, I am not quite prominent enough to be invited to red carpet events, at least none that occur anywhere outside Chicago.” He rolled his eyes.

“Obviously those movies would premiere in Chicago, dumbass. Well, all but Kincaid and Ivy’s. Theirs could happen, like, anywhere. They move a lot, you know? Ivy always talks about how much she likes it here, though, so maybe it would happen here. Anyway, I don’t think you came here to talk about this, so what do you want?” Ah, there it was, the suspicion. I’d been wondering where it was.

“May I come in?” He stepped just slightly aside, and I took it for an invitation.

“At least you asked this time,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind me. It was then that I noticed two additional pairs of eyes, one an unnerving greenish yellow and the other dark brown, pressing into me. It took only a cursory glance to discover that the eyes belonged to his pets, one of which lounged by the fire and the other of which had draped itself over the back of his couch. Of course, I haven’t got a clue how this second creature managed that, as it was rather a lot wider than its perch, but I supposed I wasn’t allowed to be privy to whatever physics-defying magic Harry’s cat was blessed with. Harry himself sprawled onto a chair, his arm narrowly avoiding the book he had precariously balanced on the chair arm, and I sat on his couch with decidedly more grace. His cat head butted the back of my neck, and I reached behind myself thoughtlessly to scratch it. A funny sort of smile twisted Harry’s lips.

“What?” I asked him, the cat now purring so violently that I could almost feel it vibrating through my teeth. He chuckled and the dog stood on lazy legs, wandering over to plop its head across his thighs. He stroked a hand through the enormous creature’s fur and it stared up at him, entirely rapturous and unconditionally loving.

“He’s never going to leave you alone now, you know.” A small torpedo of gray fur and muscle suddenly pounced onto my lap, front paws kneading into the flesh of my upper legs once or twice before it stretched across them laboriously, as if doing so was the biggest feat of its life. I smiled and continued to pet the animal. I’d always liked cats, and dogs as well, if I were honest. I’d often contemplated getting a pet for myself, but I always feared that I’d not have enough time to devote to one. The cat continued purring, the sound of it reminding me of the noise my car made whenever I tried to push it too hard, too fast. I dug my fingers behind its ears and the cat purred louder.

“I don’t mind,” I said, and Harry shook his head. His dog appeared as if it really, really wanted to jump into the chair with him, but Harry just rolled his eyes when he saw me notice.

“He’s still a puppy at heart,” he said, gesturing at the dog vaguely before he slid down onto his carpeted floor to sit beside the creature. It leaned against his side heavily and he threw his arm around it. I had to bite at the insides of my cheeks and lips at the sight to hold back the smile.

“His name is Mouse, correct? And the cat is Mister?” He nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve never been all that creative with naming things.”

“And thus comes Cujo, correct?” He shrugged.

“I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.” I smiled; I could still relax him more, from here, soften him up even more for my real reason for being here. I needed him as calm as I could get him, of course, but it was a delicate business just like everything else was, with him. Speak too early, and he’d get defensive, wouldn’t be willing to listen, but wait too late, put it off too much, and he’d get annoyed and more sarcastic than usual at me. Everything with him was a balancing act. I couldn’t help but like that, honestly; it kept me on my toes, kept me interested. Every conversation with him, it seemed, was like the first.

“He’s actually in college, you know, majoring in philosophy. Ms. Gard and I edit his thesis for him.” Harry laughed.

“I know he’s not stupid, dumbass. You wouldn’t work so closely with him if he were. I call him Cujo because he plays guard dog so well. Plus I know it pisses him off, and that’s generally the purpose of all the nicknames I come up with.”

“You have others?” He gave me the flattest look I’d ever seen him give anyone.

“Duh. Did you think good old Cujo was that special or something? I don’t like him that much.”

“I was unaware that you like him at all.” He cocked his head at me.

“Really? Huh. You must be slipping then, Johnny. We had coffee together once, some time when you had him tailing me. I helped him with his physics homework.” That shouldn’t have confused me as much as it did. Harry was smart, of course, just as Nathan was, and he was likable, and I was under no illusions that he never caught the people I had tailing him, but coffee? Physics? He rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, scumbag. Wizards have to think about physics, like, a lot. Magic still has to work in them, so you need at least a cursory understanding of what works and what doesn’t. Plus my guardian had me take a few classes once I moved in with him, to at least get me semi caught up with schooling.” I nodded as if I knew what he was saying.

“Guardian?” He was in a good mood; I figured I could take advantage of it, at least in this regard.

“Yeah, Ebenezer McCoy, took me in at sixteen. I hadn’t gone to school for three or four years at that point, though, so I was really behind. He taught me enough that I got my GED.” I tilted my head, my hand still moving thoughtlessly through the cat’s fur.

“You were only sixteen; you could’ve graduated naturally, couldn’t you have?” He shrugged and looked away from me.

“I wasn’t too great with people, back then. Me being in a crowded room with a bunch of remedial students and a very likely frustrated teacher would’ve been a really terrible idea. I was never all that great in school anyway. I wasn’t stupid, I just… didn’t like it. I was always the scrawny new kid from the orphanage, so I didn’t exactly make a boatload of friends. So I stopped going when I was thirteen, or fourteen, or somewhere around there. I forget my exact age.” I narrowed my eyes.

“You would’ve been too young to quit school legally, Harry.” He looked up at the ceiling.

“Legal guardian gave permission. Drop it, Marcone. What’d you want again? I don’t think you ever bothered mentioning it.” And, like the expert I obviously was, I’d managed to pry into something he didn’t want pried into. Lovely.

“My apologies,” I attempted, and he just shrugged again, his eyes still fixed anywhere but me. “I came so that I could explain why I entered your home without permission, and ask that you forgive me for it.” He finally looked at me again, his eyes wide and his eyebrows only slightly below his hairline.

“Huh?” I sighed.

“I don’t think me apologizing is really that strange, Harry. I did it for good reason, however; I was the one who informed Ms. Murphy of the woman’s treachery, but I knew you wouldn’t believe it from my lips, so I asked that she handle it. However, I grew… I wanted to see you, and when I saw you with her like that, considering what I knew… perhaps I overreacted a bit.” He shook his head.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that? Why are you telling me that? Do you think I’m going to kiss your feet or something? Why did it matter to you anyway? Not that I’m not glad you told Murphy, since I’m not a big fan of bullets in me, but still.”

“Much though you seem to want to deny it, I do like you, Harry. I didn’t want you hurt, and so I looked into her to make certain that she was good for you.” He snorted.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was entirely altruistic on your part. I know, I know, it’s your life goal to make me miserable, yeah? Figure if it gets proven to me enough that apparently everyone who gets close to me has an underlying reason for doing it I’ll give up and go to you?” I stared at him.

“Of course not, Harry. If you come to me, I want it to be willing. I would not force you into anything; I like to consider myself above such crass methods. I did what I did out of care and worry for you, not out of any desire to see you hurt.” His jaw went tight and he stood, unfolding himself from the floor to his full height, and his long legs ate up the distance between us with hardly a step.

“Don’t lie to me, Marcone. I know people don’t… Hell’s Bells, I know not a lot of people like me, okay? That’s never changed. I don’t… I don’t care, though. I’m used to it. So what if she was using me? Most people do. I’m not going to cry about it for you, okay? Thank you for telling Murphy. Thank you for helping to keep her from catching me unaware. Now get your ass out of my house. Your Gentleman shit doesn’t work on me. You’re nowhere near my best option, alright?”

“Harry, please, don’t do this right now. I’m trying to apologize.” He nodded.

“You did. I told you thank you. Our business is finished. We can start over on a clean slate. Ra, ra.”

“No, Harry, it isn’t. We need to talk.”

“No we don’t. We need to go on just like we’ve always been. I like just like we’ve always been! Antagonism works for me, you know?” He was so frustrating. So, so, frustrating, and he didn’t have a reason to be. I wasn’t trying to hurt him and I’d told him as much I had no idea how many times. I only wanted him to be happy, just as his friends did, and yet he wilfully refused to see it. I stood, his cat landing harmlessly on the floor and proceeding to leap onto his bookshelf to watch the proceedings.

“I only want what’s best for you,” I tried, and he bared his teeth in an almost bitter laugh. I light thump of force into my chest sent me stumbling towards the door, but I stood fast anyway. I knew he wouldn’t seriously hurt me, at least not with his magic.

“Stars, I hate you. You have no idea, Marcone, you really don’t. You want what’s best for me? That’s a contract with you, right? Stop trying to make me like you. Stop trying to carve yourself out a spot in my life. It’s not going to work, alright? I’m my own man and that’s how it’s going to stay. Get out.” I stepped closer to him without realizing it and took him by the shoulders. I wasn’t sure, then, whether I wanted to kiss him or punch him. Either way, he’d end up senseless, and perhaps that was the final goal. I settled for shaking him a bit and he flashed pulled his lips into a tight almost snarl.

“You’re the one lying, Harry. If you want to work for me, fine, I don’t give a damn. You’ll have a place in my employ when and if ever you want it. If you never do, then I don’t give a damn about that either. All I want, Harry, is for you to be happy. Perhaps that isn’t all I’ve ever wanted it. Perhaps my motives weren’t always so pure. What counts is now, however, and now, I want you to be happy, and that’s it. If it’s with me, fine. If it isn’t… perhaps I’ll be upset, but I’ll be alright with that as well.”

“Let go of me, John.” He was tense under my hands, his face shadowed and cool. He still wasn’t looking me in the eye, either.

“Look at me and I will, Harry. Tell me you think I’m lying to you after you look at me.” He tore away from me and I let him, not wanting to hurt him, and he jerked open his door, staring down at his feet or at the wall behind my head or anything else he could manage.

“I’m not in the mood, Marcone; I’ve never met someone with worse timing that you, you know, and I’m counting me in that number. Leave.” Something in his voice, something flustered and tired, made me listen.



When I arrived back at my office, I called Ms. Murphy yet again, and truly, her frustration at this was beginning to reach epic proportions.

“What’d you do this time?” she asked me, a sigh in her voice, and I had to chuckle even though I didn’t feel particularly amused.

“I attempted to apologize for what I did the other day, and he was very obviously in no state to listen to me. Would you mind being of assistance to me again?” I don’t believe I have a word to describe the noise she made just then, but I do know that Hendricks has made it before.

“For someone who was nicknamed the Gentleman and is notorious for sweeping anyone you want to right off their feet, you’re really, really shitty at relationships. Has anyone ever told you that? I mean, Harry isn’t that hard; buy him pizza, or a steak, or kill a monster with him, and he’ll invite you out for beer. How can you possibly fuck that up?”

“I believe by bringing up poor choices of conversation while drinking that beer.”

“I think I know why he says he hates you now, Marcone, and I have to tell you, I’m starting to get on the boat with him. This is not my job, okay? This is not what I get paid for.”

“I’ll owe you, Ms. Murphy.” Another frustrated noise forced itself through her lips.

“Fine. Look, I’ll try to deal with it, okay? I’ll put something together where he has to spend some extended amount of time with you and therefore listen to your bullshit. If you can’t take it from there, I’m done.” Ms. Murphy is a competent woman, I’ve seen as much, and so, despite the fact that I was quite honestly entirely unsure of what she could possibly do to make Harry, of all people, be cooperative, I decided that I’d best leave her to it.

“Thank you,” I told her, and she grunted.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I think you’d be good for him, bastard.” She proceeded to hang up, and I couldn’t help but smile. Harry did, at least, have excellent taste in friends.