Freelancer New York (freelancer_york) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-01 19:56:00 |
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Entry tags: | haloverse: canon: york, the dresden files: canon: harry dresden |
Who: Harry Dresden & York
What: The wizard brings an injured Ed home.
When: Directly after this.
Where: Ed/York/Al’s Apartment - 439
Rating: PG-13
Status: Log - Complete
Harry had shown up with a non-responsive Ed in his arms like some rag doll. The boy had looked so small, so pale, so.. So.. broken. He’d been bloody and his arm had been dangling. It was clear that Ed was awake, he just wasn’t moving much at all and York stood by quietly and collected, chin lifted as he watched the young man be placed down on the couch. Ed hadn’t spoken a word as he’d been placed there, but Alphonse was still rushing over to him like the worried little brother he was. That was when York stepped up and clapped a hand down onto Harry’s shoulder. “Al, take care of your brother a minute, will you? Harry and I are going to have a quick chat outside, if you need anything, either of you, we’ll be just outside the door, alright?” When he got a nod from Alphonse, he was urging Harry outside and closing the door up behind him. This floor was empty save them, so the soldier only took Harry down the hall a little ways before finally releasing his shoulder and setting his hands to his hips. The wizard was about to bear witness to an incredibly rare event in history. York never got mad. It wasn’t in his DNA. It wasn’t in his programming. He took everything with a grain of salt, he processed it, and he decided the best way to deal with it. Still, Harry had seen him upset once. That cold look in his eye when he’d found out that the taller man had thought about raping Texas. But it had only been seconds and it hadn’t been in his posture, just a chilly look in his eye. York, however, had been entirely composed. He was desperately trying to do that now, staring down the hall towards his apartment door as if he could find answers there. He couldn’t. His gaze never wavered, his posture was straight, he was perfectly still. One. Two. Three. Breathe. That blue eye stayed far away from Harry. Anywhere but Harry. The Golden boy’s body was tense, every part of him so stiff he could have doubled as a brick wall. One. Two. Three. Breathe. His lips parted, his eyes stayed directed down the hall. “What happened?” His voice sounded strained, but not angry. Harry had no idea how much concentration that took. It was all shoved down, all held at bay, even though all he wanted to do was explode and let it all out so he could go back inside to those kids and take care of them. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He wasn’t willing to scare Harry again.. And if just his look had done it before? Imagine if he actually showed that he was angry. Raised his voice. Threw his arms up. Let his face take on some sort of aggressive expression. No. The soldier stood there passively, not blank, but notably tense. *** Harry allowed York to direct him back out into the hallway. But standing there, the two of them, there was no jovial banter--no back and forth quips and easy attitude the wizard had come to associate with the Freelancer. It was stiff tensity, the set of York’s shoulders and the hard line of his jaw--from the angle Harry could see it from--telling of the younger man’s feelings on the matter. When Harry got angry it was all internal. At least until it came to a boiling point. Then it manifested itself in outbursts of fire that took out entire buildings, or helped him destroy entire nations. Standing there with York, Harry watched the younger man struggle to contain himself. Huh. Harry was trained in the arts of meditation and working his way through emotions. He knew how to shut them down in the space of heartbeats, to block everything out so he could continue working through. York was leaking. But he hadn’t started throwing things yet. So Harry forced himself into a casual relaxation, arms loose at his sides. He could feel the negative energy in the air and for once, it wasn’t his fault. Reaching out with his left hand, the wizard gathered that brewing storm from the air and kept it close. Right there next to his heart where he’d use it to strangle Gambit later. “He got kidnapped by some Sushi wannabes. Found him in the warehouse district, they looked like they were harvesting body parts,” Harry said, folding his arms across his chest and ducking his chin down. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore,” Harry said after a moment. At least two were dead. He’d drenched one in living flames, the other was a bunch of thawing chunks of seafood in the middle of the warehouse, the third had carried his message to his boss. Harry looked up at York finally. *** As a boy, York had been taught the same thing Harry had. He’d been taught, instructed, and ordered to push down his emotions and ignore them entirely. It was clear with Texas, that the instructions had been well taught and worked like a charm, but the golden boy didn’t seem to have that skill. He was leaking anger the same way Harry leaked magic. He was pissed off and he was drowning in it because he didn’t know how to deal with it. Imagine that. A twenty-two year old man who didn’t know how to process anger or react to it, didn’t know what to do with what he was feeling aside from struggle to not let it show. And he was having a Hell of a time doing that. Tex could turn it off in the span of a heartbeat. But not York. Once they’d figured out it was York’s emotions that gave him all that strength, they’d let the boy-- eight years old by then-- develop as he might have normally. Which was understandably hard for him, when everyone else his age-- and even the adults around him-- turned their emotions off like a switch. And that left the mess that was Agent New York. He’d never really been angry before. Not really. Not like this. At the news that they had been harvesting body parts, and had clearly meant to harvest his new young friend, York’s jaw tightened and his chin dipped a little, fists clenching there on his hips. A wet sheen had come to unblinking eyes as he stared at the door down the hall. It wasn’t any surprise that the Spartan was driven entirely by emotion, and now that he was experiencing something new he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Thank you, Harry.” Was all he could manage, his voice still strained, but notably not angry, or even upset. *** Harry was that awkward individual who felt it when other people were emotional and upset. Someone who wanted to help them through it. But he also sometimes didn’t know how. It would be an injustice to deny York’s emotion, to tell him he was upset over nothing. Harry was upset. The two of them just handled it differently. Harry buried his deep and planned to murder a man. York got weirdly stiff and quiet. “I didn’t do it for you,” he told him. Why was York thanking him? For bringing back a half dead child? He’d gone out there for Ed, because Harry liked him. Because Harry cared about him and because nobody hurt children and got away with it. No matter Ed’s protests that he was an adult, he was a child. 16. Jesus Christ. Harry exhaled a steadying breath, stood straighter, and unfolded his arms before he started leaking magic that would kill the man beside him. “Go back inside, York, I have to go handle some business then I’ll come back.” The younger man could occupy himself with the brothers, keep his mind focused so he wouldn’t continue wallowing in his emotions. Do something productive so he wouldn’t fall apart, so he didn’t feel useless. “Ed’s strong, man, I got there in time…” He hadn’t been disemboweled, or had his limbs removed. They looked like they’d just started when Harry stormed in on them. “Go take care of him.” Harry reached out and gripped York’s shoulder to bring the younger man back down. *** To look at him, no one would suspect he was hearing anything Harry said. He hadn’t blinked once this whole time and the dampness that had sprung to his eyes had dried because of it, like it’d never happened at all. But he’d heard it all. Harry really was no good at this kind of stuff. At least York recognized that and wouldn’t hold any of those words against him. Harry hadn’t done it for him? The Spartan knew what it meant, but the way it came out had been.. Well, it’d been awful. Slighting. Then he’d been ordered inside when all he wanted was a minute to himself to have the breakdown he needed before going inside. He’d got there in time? That only made York think about what might have happened if he hadn’t. Then that hand met his shoulder and it caused the blonde to jerk a little and his hands fell away from his hips and that single blue eye found Harry, curiously. Almost as if he’d forgotten he was standing there. A few seconds passed. “Yeah.” He said, finally. One of his hands clenched into a fist again, then relaxed before clenching a second time. Right. Go inside. Those were simple orders. He could do that. So why didn’t his feet move? *** Oh, hell. This was all bad. It was just getting worse. Harry eyed York, baffled, at a loss on how to respond to his anger. Because that was what it was. Harry was dumb a lot of the time, oblivious even, but after a few months of knowing York, Harry could see the change in him. Hell, a blind man could see the difference between York’s good mood and this…. This other half of him. Piece of him, really, because York didn’t get angry. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. “Do you want to come with me?” he asked quietly. “I’m going to see the man responsible.” Not a good idea, probably, but Harry wasn’t exactly a man that thought things through all the way. In fact, that was a basic characteristic of his life and his personality. Rash decisions were entirely what drove him. So he shifted his stance, eyed the soldier for a moment and then shrugged, “Up to you.” *** Harry was either brilliant, or very lucky. But really, he’d invited York along? Did he really want to see his young, happy friend acting as the war machine he’d been turned into? Would he ever be able to get those images out of his head? Wouldn’t he always see York as a monster made for war after witnessing something like that? Thankfully, however, the wizard had given York a choice. He’d set something in front of him. He could choose to go out and destroy something.. Or he could choose to stay and protect what was his. Attack or defend. It wasn’t a choice at all. His fist slowly unclenched as instinct made the simple decision for him. “No. I need to stay here. Ed needs me.” And it was that simple, anger fading away in the wake of his protective nature. It was no wonder they had never tried to make this man an offensive player, it was no wonder they’d never made him offense instead of defense. He just didn’t have it in him. Even angry, it dispersed so easily. Even without ever being allowed to explode.. It just.. Seeped away and York was left with his intense need to protect, to help. “But be careful. I want to know when you leave safely.” After he’d taken care of the problem. He expected to get some sort of message to let him know Harry was okay, so he could stop worrying. Finally, that blue eye lost that chilly quality and softened back into the warmer state. Fuck. He needed to get back inside to Ed and Al. *** Harry preferred it this way. He didn’t care if he had to do all the horrible shit in life in defense of others, so that they didn’t have to. It was true, York didn’t need to be involved, though Harry hadn’t thought of it that way when he’d asked if he wanted to come along. But when he did think about it later, he would be glad the younger man had decided not to come. There were some things in life some people just didn’t need to know about themselves. Harry could live with it though; he knew he wasn’t a good person. So he nodded simply, accepting, “Okay,” he agreed. He’d let him know he was alive, if he came out alive. Gambit may have been an eager, uncertain child inside, but that didn’t negate the fact he was also running a criminal underground. Smart, in control, efficient. Harry hadn’t wanted to make an enemy out of him, but this changed things. Now it was time to settle a score, one that the wizard was taking very personally. “See you later then,” He told the Freelancer. “Tell Ed I’ll come by tomorrow.” Let the boy regain his balance first. For now? The wizard had business, so he turned and left York standing there in the hall. |