Texas - There are no strings on me. (strings_on_me) wrote in elsewhere_rpg, @ 2017-10-17 08:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | dresden files: harry dresden, red vs blue: tex, red vs blue: york, tags for admin: year 01 |
Thread - Harry/Tex/York
Who: Harry Dresden & Texas (York Cameo)
What: Harry comes to find an angry Texas.
When: Oct. 15th, Late Evening
Where: The East Woods
Rating: PG-13
Status: Log - Complete
Tex watched Harry from his spot three quarters of a mile away, all the way to about a hundred feet off, where she finally dropped down out of the sturdy tree she’d been perched in, slinging the exceptionally heavy and large sniper rifle over her shoulder. It wasn’t the size a normal soldier would carry, the Spartans needed customized weapons, big enough to fit gauntlet-covered hand into the guards, to hold in massive arms, and to be slung over giant’s backs. Hell, the sniper rifle was almost as tall as Tex, at nearly six feet. It weighed forty pounds. It was a Spartan’s weapon. The oddly shaped (almost like a femur bone, or dumbbell) thing that sat on her hip, the grenades, and the two pistols that sat at her hips (along with the additional battle rifle at her back) made her look pretty formidable. Then again, the armor did that alone, with or without the weapons. She’d just wait there, near the tree, for Dresden to approach with his dog. “You shouldn’t be out here.” She announced to the wizard, once he was close enough. *** The dog barked, that was how Harry knew he was close. Nevermind that Texas hadn’t bothered to hide. Once he’d been made aware that the woman had a rifle pinned to his forehead or his chest or whatever part of his person she was focused on, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He knew she was there. She’d watched his approach the entire time, which meant she saw him set off with Mouse off leash, saw him divert their course, watched him stop near a patch of wild flowers and witnessed him linger near it for a few moments while he did something with a ribbon, magic, and exactly three flowers. He carried them in his hands the rest of the way, his attention swinging around back and forth because the woods were dangerous, Mouse’s attention doing much the same. When he finally entered the wooded aree she was haunting, he paused several feet off of the behemoth creature armed to the teeth. Was she ready for war? Christ. Mouse had no such objections and happily trotted up to sniff around the giant encased in metal, leaning his massive weight against her legs in greeting. His people were together again, it made him quite happy. “Yeah,” Harry said brightly, “but neither of us are reasonable people, so this makes sense.” And then because he had no idea how to go about these things, he kind of just held his flowers out for her in apology. *** Her helmet tipped down, the orange visor settling on the dog. There were a long few seconds where maybe Harry should have been scared she was going to eat his dog or something, but she ultimately ended up simply bending down some and awkwardly patting his head with her massive, gauntleted hand. Good boy. Then she straightened and turned her attention onto him and his ridiculous flowers. “I’m fine out here.” She was made for far harsher environments than this. Still, she let out a breath when the flowers were extended.. And nodded. Fine. Bring them closer, Harry, because she had a dog pressed against her now and she couldn’t come any nearer to him. He’d have to come to her. When he did? She extended her hand out to take them, turning them in her fingers once or twice, then she tucked them into one of thousands of small vent holes in her armor. This particular vent hole happened to be located above where her right ear would be. She looked like some sort of hippie poster for peace. A war machine with flowers. “Go back, Dresden.” *** How many people had robots for a girlfriend? Or a clone. Or a war machine? Was Harry technically classified as those weirdos who fell in love with their computers? He didn’t know. But he watched the armored woman take the flowers from him (he was briefly concerned she’d just trample them into the dirt under her massive boots) and then… tuck them into her helmet. He brightened considerably because she looked so damned ridiculous. A war machine with flowers. Go back? Harry frowned a bit, tucked his hands into his duster pockets (York had brought it to him and being inside it felt like home). “I will,” he said, “I just wanted to see you. I missed you,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m an asshole.” He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was hidden from him inside her armor. *** He was an asshole. Yeah, he was. “I missed you too.” Came her simple response, as if she were talking about the weather. “Now go back the way you came and get yourself out of this forest. Take your bear with you.” Her attention directed back down to the beast pressed against her massive leg. “Go on, go with daddy.” Daddy. Yeah. She’d just called Harry Dresden the dog’s ‘Daddy’. It was painfully cute. *** Harry’s eyes dropped to Mouse, who looked perfectly content to continue leaning on Texas (he was taking one for the team so Harry had a reason to linger, good boy, Mouse). Daddy. Harry smiled a little. It was cute. For a woman who was so assuredly anxious around him that had come out of left field. But it was adorable. And it was exactly the kinds of personality changes that set off alarm bells in Harry’s head. This was wrong. Texas was acting different. She wasn’t herself and the little waves of logic stabbed Harry’s brain repeatedly and told him to listen to her and turn around! Run away. Leave the woman in the woods to her isolation because something here wasn’t okay. “You asked me to come out here just to tell me to leave again?” he said instead, obstinate. “Not until we talk. Can you take that stupid helmet off so I can see your eyes when you tell me to fuck off?” She had that right to tell him she didn’t want a relationship anymore, he hadn’t exactly been good to her since they’d come here. If she didn’t want this anymore…. It would suck. But he’d deal with it. *** “I didn’t ask you to come out here. You insisted on coming out here against my wishes. I only agreed not to shoot you if you did come out here.” Schematics, right? Ahem. Her massive arms crossed over that dark chest-- the suit showed no difference between male and female, they weren’t tailored to either sex. They were generic, save being matched to the exact proportions of the Spartan they belonged to. “If you stay out here, you’re going to get eaten, and I can’t take care of Mouse. He’ll become Alphonse’s dog, and then he’ll get fat and lazy...” A pause. “Fatter and lazier.” Hah! “And he’ll be miserable getting tummy rubs all day and I’ll be responsible for that. I don’t want that on my conscience. So just go back to the town, we can talk later, whereupon I’ll tell you to fuck off if that’s what you want.” Whatever got his rocks off. *** “Whatever, I’m already out here so freaking talk to me like a normal person,” He insisted, getting annoyed. He was trying. Their silent spiel and cold shouldering each other wasn’t going to resolve the issues. “I know this is my fault,” he said. And it was. He’d been a dick when she’d showed up uncertain about what the hell was happening and promptly had him push her away. And without apparent cause. He’d panicked and instead of being a reasonable, thoughtful person he’d just shut down. Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t good at this. Relationships weren’t his thing, every one he’d ever been in had ended in disaster. Harry frowned. “What happened?” he asked instead, not making it about him and his feelings anymore. “When you came here. Everyone else only lost a couple days or a few hours. What happened to you?” *** Yeah, it was his fault. Texas had come straight to him, asked about him immediately upon arriving. It hadn’t taken two minutes for him to decide she wasn’t right and that had been the end of that. It was fine. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been thrown to the side before. “I went home. Now I’m here.” Yes, that summed up the last two years of her life expertly. At least Harry knew that she’d gotten hold of Delta, so she certainly knew of York and North’s deaths (she’d told York, too, so there was that). So she’d been through the loss of her friends-- even if she’d already known York was dead the first time around. Now North was gone, too. Surely others as well. Things had only gotten more complicated for Texas. She’d been here a week. Her wound were healing. It was slow going, but it was happening. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.” That way, Harry would go. She gave Mouse a little nudge. It was surprisingly gentle. Such a huge, terrifying machine of death, and she (and the other Freelancers) had such mastery over it that they could make it move in the most delicate, careful ways. *** Mouse looked up at her, his tongue lolled out of his mouth and he licked her armor before he heaved his massive weight up and away from her, shaking happily and trotting away to sniff around the area with interest. Harry watched him for a moment, then slowly dragged his eyes up to look at Texas. “Right,” he said, feeling dumb. He brushed a hand through his hair (it was getting stupidly long again and he hadn’t shaved in two weeks). “Okay,” he whistled for Mouse, who turned around and came back, tail swishing excitedly. He was utterly unperturbed by the awkward tension floating between Harry and Texas. Harry stroked his giant head, ruffling his ears with a hand, staring down at him when he brought himself around to making an actual sentence again, “I’m sorry for being an asshole,” he told her. “Are we… okay? Are we done?” *** “You don’t need to be sorry for being an asshole. I’m not sorry for being a bitch.” It was just the way they were and Texas had accepted that about Harry.. And hopefully Harry had accepted that about Tex. But when he asked if they were okay, or if they were done, the blonde woman let out a breath inside her helmet and turned her head to the side. “We’re okay, Harry. If you still want a crazy bitch girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Look at that, she’d even used the word. Girlfriend. It wasn’t unusual for her, back home, she’d had Church. She was painfully aware, however, that was at its end. She was at her end. She could only hope that Church would be able to go on without her. *** He didn’t know there was a two year gap in between the life on Knowhere and the life on Elsewhere. If he did know, he probably wouldn’t have pressed. He’d have walked away and let her decide what she wanted to do, because two years was a lot to overcome and going back to being whatever the hell they were like nothing happened in the middle? That was difficult. It was unfair. And Harry would never want to make her commit to that. But she’d neglected to explain and Harry wasn’t asking the right questions. So when she agreed they were fine, he smiled and exhaled a breath of relief. They’d work on the rest. It was okay. He’d worked on a lot with her the last few months they’d been together. At least there was something to work on. The wizard nodded. “Okay,” he said and sounded less dejected. “Come stay with us in the church.” She didn’t have to be out here alone anymore. *** “When I’m not working.” When she wasn’t monitoring the portals, or watching the comings and goings. When she was taking a break.. So.. never. Right. But she would start walking, at least, and it wasn’t a grueling pace-- it was just a casual walk. And Texas was prepared to walk him all the way back to the church, if she was honest. She liked spending the time with him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Hell, the way her shoulder bumped into his as they walked should have been some indicator of how much she’d missed him. It wasn’t something Tex did often. “You’re staying with Cas and Pedro, right?” She already knew the answer, of course. He knew she knew. *** They walked, side by side, and Harry took her hand in his, no matter that it was covered in protective layers. He’d missed her and he wanted to be close to her, and because she’d completely neglected to step out of her armor he was taking what he could get where he could get it. They must have looked strange, the wizard and his armored machine, but Harry accepted his life was weird. This wasn’t that unusual. Right? In the scheme of things, no. “Yeah,” Harry replied, dry. She knew. She’d watched him through the scope of a massive rifle that mirrored North’s own. Speaking of, where the hell had North stored the weapons in those tiny rooms? With two teenagers inside? That was a disaster waiting to happen. Harry blinked and looked up at her. “Our lives are weird,” he told her. *** “You’re not kidding.” She agreed, looking down at their joined hands. But most of that walk would be in silence, until they reached the church-- within a hundred feet of it, anyway, and she drew herself to a stop and released his hand. Turning to face him, the Spartan was silent a bit longer before a hand came up and she brushed gloved fingers along his jaw. “You look like a homeless man.” Long hair, and without a shave for two weeks. She would offer to cut his hair, but he’d refused her last time. Fool me once, shame on you.. Fool me twice? Maybe York would cut it for him, and offer a shave, too. York had looked good when she saw him. *** The silence was okay. Things still felt weird, like maybe they were just pretending to be alright. Harry could lie to himself for a little while and say everything was fine. They’d figure it out. When they reached the vicinity of the church and stopped, Harry turned to look at her. She touched his face and he almost leaned into it. He wanted to, but it was her gloved hand and not the feel of human skin on human skin. It was different. But he’d missed her, so he closed his eyes for a moment and then laughed. “Hey!” he said, “It makes me look rugged. I kinda like it,” except the part he was pale as hell. This was the first time he’d been in sunlight since he’d arrived in Knowhere. He was pasty still, sickly looking if he weren’t so … manly. He smiled at her, dark eyes opening. “So, why won’t you get out of your armor?” he asked. “If you’re missing eyes like York or whatever, I don’t care.” *** “It makes you look like York’s big brother, and even he’s shaved. North gave him a shave just yesterday.. So now it’s just you.” She was smirking under the helmet. It was in her voice. But as he questioned her about the armor, the Spartan was quiet for a few seconds, then reached up to unlatch the locks on the helmet and lifted it off, then tucked it under her arm. Those pale, blue-green eyes looked far more pale against the dark circles under her eyes-- and the black eye that was just starting to fade on the left. She had healing cuts on her face, along her cheek, her eyebrow, her forehead. Her lip was split in a few places, her jaw was bruised, and she had cuts along her throat. One of her ears was patched, the gauze clearly a few days old, and dirty, and caked with dried blood-- the tape holding it on was peeling up slightly from the rub of her helmet. She looked like she’d been beaten. Badly. Who was capable of holding down Texas and beating her senseless? At least the damage looked a week old, probably a little bit older than that. “I still have both my eyes.” *** Oh. Oh, hell. That was worse than expected. Harry knew Texas was a badass bitch. She’d handed his ass to him more than once, she’d gone almost an entire week with a metal bar lodged into her torso from one end through the other and never said a word about it. She’d fought both York and North at the same time and won. To see her covered in marks was a whole new level of fucked up. Harry inhaled a breath and forced it out through parted lips, his dark eyes cataloging each injury, taking note of every bruise, split lip and cut that marred her skin. It made him angry. It made the parts of him that had claimed her as his own want to tear down the world in rage and hurt whoever had hurt her. Sheer possession brought Winter’s wolf to the surface. It glittered there in his eyes and the sudden chill as the air around them dropped rapidly. But he didn’t move. He controlled it, for now, and reached up to touch her face without touching her face, just brushing his calloused fingers over the bruised skin with tender affection and concern. “Do you want me to call Castiel?” he asked. She didn’t have to endure it. *** “I’m fine.” Came her immediate response. She didn’t need Castiel. She was perfectly fine. She could handle being the remnants of someone’s punching bag. She didn’t need to be treated like she was delicate. She wasn’t. Texas was a war machine. “This is why I didn’t take it off.” Imagine what the rest of her body had to look like. “I’ll be perfectly fine in a week or two.” The helmet was pulled from under her arm and she held it between her hands, clearly intending to put it back on. “Thanks for coming out to see me, Harry.” She hadn’t slept in almost a week, save little catnaps. She looked exhausted. And unless he did something to halt her progress, she’d slide that helmet back on and click it into place before taking a step back. *** No, no way he was letting her do that. No way she was hiding behind armor even with her resolute determination to do exactly that. She moved to replace the helmet, but Harry intercepted the motion. She could very well have knocked him on his ass like a doll if she wanted to, so it was mostly symbolic when he stopped her. He stopped her and stepped in closer because in her armor she was of a similar height to him. His hand slid back from her bruised face to touch her blonde hair, gentle as ever, then he was leaning in as if to kiss her but he didn’t. Not yet. “Stay with me,” he said instead, “Let me help you clean up and you can sleep for a few hours, then if you want to you can go back out there.” But not like this. Not looking like the mess she was. She was tough, but Harry didn’t think she needed to endure the aftermath. *** That hand in her hair felt nice and she couldn’t keep her eyes from closing partially. The little church had a private bath and shower for the live-in priest who had once stayed there, but he was long since gone and the new priest lived in the town proper. The water still worked, even if the water heater didn’t. A shower would be nice, too. “Sleep sounds good.” She had to be pretty damn exhausted to agree to sleep. Having Delta in her brain was driving her insane. He’d only been there a week and a half-- since she’d broken out of that hell hole. She’d grabbed Delta and run. And it’d been a week and a half since she’d slept. She wanted to dig him and the implant entirely out of her head-- there was a little damage back there, from where she’d pulled at the port with shaky fingers, but ultimately she’d shoved the helmet back on and saved herself from death by self-removal of her port. Maybe with Harry there, she’d be able to sleep. She remembered how safe she felt around him. She’d never felt safe around Church-- she was the one who protected him, not the other way around. *** “Okay,” Harry agreed, “I can help you sleep without dreams,” he told her, pulling away a little. The air hadn’t warmed any, Winter’s core was still running free with his emotions and his control, but he hadn’t ripped out anyone’s throat yet or set the world on fire. Not when the target of his concern was standing in front of him and allowing him to funnel all of his energy into caring for her. He leaned further to brush a kiss over her bruised cheek, touching his nose to her hair and then he pulled away to take her hand and if she was willing, pulled her back toward the church and the interior the trio were calling their temporary home. They’d cleared many of the pews from the main hall and had set up bedding (which consisted of piles of blankets and whatever else they could get their hands on) near the space where an altar should have been. Cas didn’t sleep, which was weird, so there was technically only bedding for Harry and Carlos, near enough to each other that they could keep an eye on one another but not close enough to be suffocating. In the way of their magical interference, there was no electric lighting, but the place was lit by green flames in rows of mason jars (Carlos’ doing) and the few candles that remained in the place. “No one’s here, get undressed,” Harry said quietly. Undressed? She had to unarm herself, maybe, and then remove the heavy armor piece by piece. He’d help, if she let him. *** Undressed. Those cold, pale eyes locked onto him and just stared. It wasn’t challenging. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t scared or unsure or contemplating. It was blank. A blank stare that would give even Castiel a run for his money. Eventually, though, she set her helmet aside and would begin stripping down. Guns first, the ammo joined it, and then (almost reverently) that oddly shaped thing she’d kept at her hip. It was laid down gently. Then the armor came off, piece by piece, and she would allow him to help if he moved to do so, but she didn’t verbally invite him, he’d have to take the initiative there. Once helping, though, she wouldn’t put a stop to his actions. Bit by bit, the armor piled up. Then the body suit came off and the woman in her sports bra and panties (and nothing else, as always) was slowly revealed. Her wrists were rubbed raw and missing skin and the bone was exposed on each wrist, where there was the least cover of meat between bone and skin. Her ankles were the same way, bruised and bloodied and impossible to heal inside that suit where they constantly rubbed and were smothered. Just above the elbow on both arms, there was serious bruising, skin rubbed raw, and indications that blood had been pooled there against whatever had held her, for some time. The same just above her knees and across her hips. Her hips, the sharp points of her hip bones, were also rubbed raw, skin having scabbed, but bone could be seen on one side. There was no doubt of infection, where all those bone-exposed places were red and angry. The bruises on her body were plentiful, the cuts were perfectly straight, not jagged at all. A knife. And with her feet on the ground-- well, when she began to walk, Harry would notice she left bloody footprints. It was the least of her worries right now. “Is there a shower?” It was the only question she had for him. *** Her body was a warzone. She was losing. It was the closest description of the horror inflicted on her that Harry could think of. She was a mess, she was more than a mess. She was broken. How was she standing on her own feet? How the hell had she moved around in that armor for a week or more without complaint? Some part of Harry admired her strength. His girlfriend was a badass. The rest of him was split between crying (that was a very small part currently) and wanting to kill. He did neither of those things, but carefully and quietly helped her out of her armor and the body suit and then stood there stupidly when he took her in. Her body was a warzone. What was he supposed to do in wake of that? He wasn’t a doctor. He didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know if he should pick her up and carry her (she was still on her own feet after all) or offer a hand. So he settled for a middle ground and wrapped an arm around her waist, careful and aware of her apparent injuries and not wanting to make them worse. “There’s a bathroom,” he told her. And he took her there. *** When he came to wrap his arm around her, Tex gave him the same flat look. She could walk, Dresden, she didn’t need to be helped along like some wounded animal. So once he removed his arm from her, she’d follow along to the bathroom, looking no worse for wear in her gait. Both legs hurt. Both hips hurt. Both feet hurt. There was no limp that could ease any pain, so it was best just to walk. Somehow, she managed to move like there was no pain, but it was there in the way her jaw was tight and her eyes stayed at knee-level instead of focusing fully ahead of her. She was concentrating. The footsteps left behind on the tile floors were in blood, but they’d get cleaned up soon enough, and it wasn’t like she was worried about Harry using it for anything stupid. Into the bathroom, she finally reached back her hands and pulled the tie loose from her hair, were it’d been twisted up and pressed flat, held that way far too long by her helmet. It spilled down while Harry got the water going, and she pushed it back over her shoulder, to hang against her back, where more cuts were strewn, lined up nicely, and just as red and infected as the rest. It was clear Tex hadn’t given a fuck. Hadn’t bothered to take care. The only thing that earned any attention had been her ear, because the blood leaked into her helmet. When Harry turned back to look at her, he’d find a striking difference: her hair. No longer hitting just past her shoulders, her hair hit nearly mid-back. That wasn’t a few days growth. It wasn’t a month. Hell, it wasn’t a year. It was almost a full foot. And hair, growing about half an inch a month? Well. That was a solid two years of hair that hadn’t been there before. Tex, though, waited silently for Harry, peeling her bra off next, before she let her underwear drop next to them on the ground. *** Harry stared at her. He couldn’t help it, because she was a mess and she was falling apart. Even if she refused by main will alone it wasn’t a battle she’d win. Many of her injuries were infected. That wouldn’t go away because she demanded it to. Delta had healed York a bunch of times, Harry was concerned why he hadn’t been able to do the same for her. Unless her damage was too intense.. (he also didn’t understand how the healing unit in York’s armor worked, but whatever). He stared. Then he stood back and let her step into the bath. “It’s cold,” he said, “no water heater. But I’ll get some wash cloths.. “ No soap. That would be a new level of hell she didn’t need. “Stay in here, I’ll be back,” he said, and then the wizard was gone. He didn’t go far. He stepped out of the bathroom, closed the rickety door and leaned against the wall with his head in his hands, giving himself a full minute to fall apart in silence alone before he forced himself into motion and shoved all of the itinerant emotions behind their proper walls. He needed York or Castiel or both of them, because like this, Texas wasn’t going to recover. Of that he was absolutely certain. So, pushing away from the wall only a minute later, clear headed and moving with purpose, Harry stepped back into the main room of the church and looked around. “Castiel,” he waited. “... I need York.” She’d listen to him before she listened to the angel. *** Tex watched the tub fill part way (having water pounding on her wouldn’t be good, either, thanks Harry) before turning to watch Harry leave. Once he was gone, she bent to pick up a piece of broken mirror from the floor and gripped it hard enough it cut into her fingers. Gathering up her hair just over her shoulder, she sliced it off and dropped it to the floor, along with the shard of the mirror, then she carefully climbed into the bath and sat slowly. The water would surely be pink by the time Harry returned. Out in the main church, Castiel appeared before the would-be NBA star (that was, if the NBA allowed D&D nerds in) and his eyebrows raised slightly. “York?” He questioned. That was what Harry wanted? “Is everything alright?” Why would he need York? *** Harry jumped (damnit, Cas!) when the angel appeared, turning warily to look at him before relief flooded through his chest. “Hey, yeah, can you bring him over here? I got Texas to come out of the woods-” He started and then his eyes dropped to the bloodied footprints on the floor. His stomach turned. He’d seen a lot of disgusting things in his life. He was no stranger to blood and guts and gore and the myriad of awful ways a person could die or lose their insides. But for some reason seeing her blood everywhere made him queasy. Harry closed his eyes briefly and instinctively reached out to use Castiel for support, one hand braced against the angel’s bicep. Cas always stood weirdly close to everyone, having no sense of boundaries, so Harry didn’t have to reach far. “And she’s-” He continued, swallowing back that awful moment of unease, “She’s not in great shape. I don’t think she’ll let you help her, but she’ll listen to York.” *** When Harry’s hand landed on his bicep, he took on a concerned look and lifted his chin some, that other hand coming up to grasp onto Harry’s opposite bicep in return. He’d never seen Harry look like this before. It was disturbing. “Are you going to be alright?” Sure, he could go get York, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but he wasn’t certain that he should leave Harry alone. He looked like he might throw up and pass out.. Or worse, pass out and throw up. The angel didn’t want him to choke on his own vomit and die, after all. *** “Yeah,” Harry said passively, waving him off, or trying to. He raised a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, still using the angel as a support beam for a moment. He exhaled a breath, forced back his bile and when he opened his eyes, he stared at Castiel and didn’t look around again. If he did, he probably would pass out. Even the smell was nauseating. Jesus Christ, Dresden, get yourself together you asshole. There were more important things going on than your stupid inability to handle a little bit of blood. But the blood of someone he loved. Even Mouse had tracked through it. Harry could see his pawprints trailing around the interior wherever the dog had gone to lay down. Harry held his breath. “Just bring him, please,” he said. *** Castiel gave a squeeze to that bicep, then he was gone and the support beam Harry had been holding onto slipped through his fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The angel was back, a startled looking York standing there at his side (clean shaven!), in just boxer-briefs. It was clear he’d been sprawled out in bed (probably with Ed or North tucked up against him) when he’d been nabbed. He looked tired, but being jerked awake like that certainly had its effect. “Harry?” What was going on? Cas removed his hand from the Spartan’s bicep and nodded once to the wizard. Anything else, Dresden, now was the time to ask. He could certainly clean up that mess.. *** One. Two. Harry sank down against the nearest pew. Three. Four. He covered his face in his hands. Five. He looked up when York spoke, eyes widening briefly and nostrils flaring, which didn’t help him block out the smell. He’d been working on pushing it all away, which he usually did in silence and in the dark. But, beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Hey,” He said, “thanks Cas.” His eyes passed over York (What the hell, why didn’t he have clothes on? Or a beard…) and then he shook his head. At least it distracted him from the mess surrounding him in the church. “Texas,” he said, pointing vaguely toward the bathroom. “Fix her,” he insisted. “Now.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t that distracted. His eyes landed on Cas again. What the hell was wrong with you, Harry? *** It was very nearly midnight. But Harry surely hadn’t realized that. It was likely everyone else was sleeping. But Harry surely hadn’t realized that. Cas was here with Harry instead of with Carlos, watching the young wizard’s back while on patrol. But Harry surely hadn’t realized that. His mind was somewhere else. And when he pointed at the bathroom and said Tex’s name, York took on a worried look. Fix her? He took a slow step towards the bathroom, then another one.. Then his pace picked up. He was at a jog when he made it into the bathroom. “Holy shit--” His voice traveled out into the church upon his entrance.. But then he nudged the door closed. Fix her? How was he supposed to fix this? There was nothing to fix! Shit. Castiel kept blue eyes locked onto brown when Harry looked up at him. After a few seconds, he stepped forward and moved a hand out, grasping the wizard at the back of the neck and pulling him forward just enough that Harry’s forehead would meet with his lower torso, giving him a place to rest for a second. The fingers of his free hand snapped. “You should try and rest.” If Harry wanted, Castiel could make him sleep. *** Harry leaned forward (Castiel really hadn’t given him a choice, he might look like a nerdy accountant but he was an archangel under his sensible shoes and trench coat), pressing his forehead to Castiel for however long the angel would let him. Honestly, he’d probably stand there forever and never wonder if Harry wanted to move or not and… honestly Harry was very tempted to just remain. It was enough though, it was what he needed. The solid presence of someone else and the still silence that let him focus down and push everything back and away behind the walls he was so expert at building. Distantly he heard the snap of fingers. Distantly he understood what it meant. But he was too inwardly focused, forcing himself to accept everything to think it through. Face it, Harry, don’t shy away. Recall the image of the woman as she was and impose all of those horrible injuries over her skin, accept what had been done to her though you’d never been there to witness it. He forced it through his brain, leaning against Castiel, again and again until the image and the smell of blood and the thought of her footprints across the floor no longer made him want to pass out. He opened himself up to it, exposed himself and then when he was no longer shaken by it, he looked up at the angel and shook his head. “Not until she’s gotten some rest,” not until York or Castiel assured him she wasn’t going to die. “Thank you,” for being there. For all of it. *** The snap. It had cleaned up that blood, even the tracks from the dog. Gone. Like it’d never been there at all. Harry had steeled himself to it, but there was no need, not really. Castiel was looking out for his friend. “You’re welcome.” His hand fell away from the back of the wizard’s neck, then he stepped away. “Call me if you need me.” He needed to get back to Carlos, he didn’t want to leave the man alone too long. Even for this. And with that, Harry was left alone once again, with two Spartans in the bathroom, and not a single piece of gauze to be had anywhere. What was York supposed to do? Really? Well, he was doing his best. That would have to be good enough. *** York’s best would have to be enough. Castiel had gone, leaving Harry alone in the church with two Spartans doing god knew what behind closed doors. Harry stayed where he was, looking around the church for a few minutes until eventually getting up. He cleaned. There was no blood to mop up (thank you, Castiel!) but he rearranged Texas’ armor, moving it out of the way piece by piece, putting it somewhere no one would notice but somewhere she could easily access when she wanted it. Then he picked up the mess of blankets and thin pads that made up his and Carlos’ bedding, taking some from the younger wizard (sorry Carlos, but you’d recover faster than everyone else from a shitty night of sleep anyway) and added it to the place he was making for Texas. It was only when he’d started dusting off his twelfth of thirty or so mason jar turned green flamed lamps that he’d realized he was stalling. Harry stopped. Mouse had come back out from wherever he’d been hiding, and was sitting in front of Harry patiently watching him clean. Harry looked at his dog. “Yeah, I know,” he told him, and then he headed for the bathroom because no matter how clean the mason jars were it wasn’t going to change whatever was going on inside there. Harry knocked and then poked his head around the door. *** The wizard shouldn’t have bothered at all. Sticking his head in, he’d find Tex still sat in the tub, he knees drawn up some-- the water was pink, she was soaking in her own blood but there wasn’t much that could be done about it and the two soldiers knew it. York was currently holding one of her arms and was scrubbing it with a literal scrub brush he’d found in the dirty, abandoned bathroom. He’d cleaned it with the soap as best he could and he’d cleaned her arm, and then he’d soaped the area he needed to scrub up (where her bone was exposed), and he’d gone to work. The soap suds on the floor were pink, the drops of her blood from where he was scrubbing and re-opening wounds (he had no antibiotics, which would have been far easier) were smeared by water from the tub, and York didn’t have a smile to offer Harry when he showed up. “It’s going to take a little bit, Harry.” The medic told him in a tired sounding voice. Open sores and wounds would be tended first and she’d be worse off than she had been, but at least they’d be clean. Those pale eyes lifted but they didn’t turn onto the wizard. It was telling. She was focused on not reacting to the pain. *** Nope. He shouldn’t have bothered. The nausea washed over him again but because he’d worked to steel himself against it, he didn’t pass out. Thank god, because then he’d take York’s precious attention away from Texas. Which the wizard didn’t want. So he stared at them for a moment, looked over the pink foam and drops of blood and the water Texas was marinating in. “Do you need anything? I can go get it for you,” to be useful, to be at all helpful, to distract himself. Hell, send him out for a blue flower with red thorns and he’d go search for it all night. Because what he couldn’t do was sit around and wait. Waiting was the worst part. If he had his lab he’d do some magic. But he didn’t. So he lingered there in the half dark with worried eyes, a numb heart, and a racing mind. *** York managed a smile then. Harry needed a task. Alright. “Do you think there’s any aloe out there? I could use some of that. And the strongest alcohol you can get your hands on, the cheaper the better.” Not that Harry had any money, but York thought maybe he could figure it out. “And the quicker you can get it, Harry, the better-- clean sheets, too.” Bandages would be too expensive. “Go on.” That part was almost a demand. York wanted it all yesterday. Texas didn’t even flinch. *** Aloe. Cheap alcohol. Bed sheets. Sounded like a good night to anyone else, right? Harry nodded curtly. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.” Like they would. Maybe Texas would try if she got a wild hair up her ass. Maybe York had half a chance in hell of finally stopping her. Just hurry up Harry, and then it wouldn’t be a problem. The wizard ducked back out of the door, closing it behind himself and calling Mouse as he headed into the night. Don’t ask what deals he made with what creatures existed in the night. He wouldn’t tell you. Don’t ask what he’d done to get the things York needed. Because York was right, Harry didn’t have any money. He didn’t have any influence to make promises, but he did have other means available to him as one of the magi. He wouldn’t be gone for more than an hour, maybe two, at most. He came back with clean sheets folded in his arms (used, but washed!), an open bottle of alcohol, and what could possibly be this world’s version of aloe but likely wasn’t. A close approximation probably wasn’t acceptable, but he’d gotten it anyway and it would have to do. He brought it all back, like treasure, holding it protectively close when he found York and Texas again. *** An hour, maybe two at the most. It was an eternity. York had worked on Texas for an hour, having drained the bath part way through, not wanting her to sit in the water too long. He should have asked for salt. Shit. Oh well, hopefully Harry would find Aloe or something close. When the wizard returned, he’d find the two Spartans sitting on one of the pews, with Tex wearing York’s boxer brief’s (they were too big, looking more like boxers, but it was fine) and nothing else. York had (for Harry’s benefit, or anyone else who might show up) snagged one of the blankets from the makeshift bed and wrapped it around his waist. But he hadn’t wanted something dirty around Tex, so she was left with York’s recently cleaned underwear and nothing more. She hadn’t even been dried off. There was no conversation as York combed through her hair with his fingers and pulled it up into a ponytail to keep it off of her shoulders and back, but did smile when Harry returned and stood up. Tex turned her head to look back at him and she stared for a few long seconds, during which York just shook his head a little to Harry, as if to indicate not to worry too much. Then, the woman spoke. “What, no pizza?” One eyebrow slowly lifted. It caused York to grin, but he took the things Harry had offered up. And should Harry think, for one second, that it was okay to rush over and try to hug her? York would stick out a foot to trip him up (he certainly couldn’t drop the things in his arms!). “No touching.” Harry was filthy! *** Harry didn’t rush forward, he wasn’t that much of an idiot, contrary to popular belief. He’d done his part to care for injured people but he wasn’t a doctor or a medic or even close to being a healer. He could apply bandages, sew some stitches, provide some aspirin, check for fever, and give you a shot of penicillin if required. Outside of that? Carlos was better for the rest, his talents ran along water, and water was cleansing and meant for healing. Carlos spent more time with Listens to Wind than the others did, more time on a battlefield where his talents would be useful. If Carlos wanted to heal, he probably could. Harry on the other hand was only good for destruction. So Harry gave York everything he’d brought back, stood there for a minute without knowing what to do with his hands before he simply folded them across his chest and tucked his chin down. “... I’ll clean the bathroom,” he said after a moment. *** York gave him a nod, but Tex just watched the wizard as he made his way to the bathroom and disappeared inside. It made her look back at the golden soldier, who just gave her a smile. By the time Harry made it out of the bathroom, York was cleaning up the area around the pew, looking less peppy. He looked up and over, then pushed up to his feet as Harry came back into the church. He was finishing folding up the remaining part of the sheet the wizard had brought. “All clean?” The male Spartan was the only one in the main room. Tex was gone. So was her armor. The time Harry had been gone had been plenty enough for her to let York bandage her, and then for her to suit up again and head out. She’d only been gone two minutes, but she was gone all the same. *** Distractions. Harry was looking for distractions so he moved with mechanical motions. He wiped down the bathroom with the diligence of a maid in a mansion, with more diligence probably, finding every nook and cranny that might have traces of Texas’ blood. He wiped it up, threw down soap and water, and did it again. It should have taken longer but the bathroom wasn’t very big. He’d check again come morning to make sure he’d been thorough. He didn’t know what to expect when he stepped back out into the main room, but it wasn’t to step back out into the relative emptiness with York in a blanket and no trace of the woman whose life York had been trying to save. Harry stood there, his eyes trailed around the room, over the places where her blood had been, where she’d been sitting, the place he’d designated for her armor that he’d neatly set aside, then over to the nest of a bed he’d made in hopes that.. What? That she’d stay? He looked at York and then he slumped down and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Thanks,” he said. What else could he say? Vulnerable or not. *** York came over to sit down next to him and nudged their knees together, bending at the waist and setting his elbows to his thighs. “She can’t sleep, Delta’s a little overwhelming for her. He’s a lot more chatty than the others. And he’s always.. Doing something in there.” He nudged into Harry again. “She said she’d be back later, if you’d help her get to sleep.” But she’d left, for whatever reason. She hadn’t exactly explained. She never did. “You okay, Harry?” He asked after a few moments of quiet. *** Harry stared at his knees through his fingers. Distantly he heard what York said and he was fairly sure he grunted a sound in response, but the noise wasn’t connecting to the rest of what was going through his head. Maybe she’d come back. Maybe she wouldn’t. The choice was hers. It always had been. Harry rubbed his eyes with one hand, tilted his head to the side to look at York, brows furrowing some at his friend’s appearance. No beard, no clothes, their knees touching. Why was everything about their relationship so damned weird? But York was solid and Harry liked that about him. He’d never faltered, not even once. And if he ever did, Harry wouldn’t blame him for it. York was just as human as the rest, no matter how much he denied it. Reaching out, Harry gripped York’s shoulder, “I’m good, what’s going on with you?” *** Harry had weird friends. When that hand gripped his shoulder, York grinned and shrugged the opposite shoulder. “North and Al are getting along great, which is wonderful. Pretty sure the General’s thinking of asking the Lieutenant to marry him.. I just found out one of my best friends in the world is gonna die when he goes home.. And Ed confessed that he’s in love with me, which is pretty new.” And the small, strange laugh that bubbled up was enough to say that he had no idea what to do with that knowledge. Ed was in love with him-- or thought he was. York was still trying to process it. He just needed a little time. “How about you, Mr. Dresden? How’s living with Carlos and an angel treating you?” It’d been far too long since the two had been able to properly talk. York felt like Harry had far more important things in his life, which was fine. York could back off. It didn’t mean that he didn’t miss his friend terribly. *** That was a lot in the life of York. Harry’s brows raised. “Wow,” he said. What else could he say? Harry Dresden, master of rhetoric right there, so eloquent he made impassioned women look bad. The wizard shook his head. “Careful with the teen crushes, man, they’re bad.” Harry would be the first to murder York if York ever decided he wanted to touch Edward Elric. You didn’t do that to kids. Period. Harry was also the first one to fully believe York had no such desires or intentions. So he just eyed him then shook his head again, thinking back on the day Molly Carpenter--16 or 17--had been an emotional wreck after her trial (in which Harry had saved her from her execution by the Wardens) and she’d stepped out of the shower, undressed and offered herself to Harry. Harry had made her kneel, making her promise she’d do exactly as he’d said, and when she’d closed her eyes and waited he’d… promptly poured some freezing, ice cold water all over her and told her it would never happen. Not in a million years. She’d got the message, it didn’t kill her crush but Harry had set a very firm boundary they’d not once crossed. She still carried the torch almost a decade later. Harry didn’t press her. All of Harry’s points were made harshly and with intent. Sitting back, the wizard folded his arms across his chest, “It’s fine. Carlos and Cas spend most of their time together, which is better for him otherwise I’m going to knock his teeth out. Don’t get me wrong, I like him, he just runs his mouth too much.” *** York was a great deal more lenient than Harry was. Hell, he was even more gentle with those sorts of things than North was. North was so honest and forthcoming and York tried to say and do things in a more delicate way, that sometimes left room for interpretation. One of many of his flaws. He’d told Ed that if that was what he wanted.. That York was his. That if Ed wanted to kiss him, that they could kiss. And that if Ed wanted more, he could have it. But then the Spartan had clearly said that he wasn’t sure Ed knew the difference between loving and being in love, and that maybe Ed was confused, that they were easy to confuse. Ed hadn’t asked for that kiss. Hadn’t said he wanted more. It’d been a very tense game of chicken, but York had won. But it’d done something to the dirty blonde. It’d shifted his perception just a bit. A door had opened and York was curiously inspecting it. It was a dangerous slope. “He’s chattier than I am? I find that hard to believe.” He nudged a shoulder into Harry with a grin. *** Harry snorted, opening his eyes to look at York when the Spartan nudged him again. “Kid never shuts up,” Harry confirmed. “He just doesn’t talk on the network because he thinks his English is bad. It’s not, he’s just a dumbass.” Harry had first seen Carlos when the kid was 13 or so, dressed in the brown robes of an apprentice, and then later as a Warden just out of high school or something ridiculous. He liked Carlos’ straight forward attitude and his ability to get down to business. Hell, he liked bantering with him. What Harry didn’t like was Carlos’ continued rambles about women. Everyone knew you were a virgin, Carlos, shut the hell up. “.... heh,” Harry laughed to himself, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Mustang around?” Harry looked sideways at his friend. *** “Yeah, he’s in the room next to ours.” York lifted his eyebrows slowly. Damn that beard added a decade onto him. He looked so much younger like this-- the eye, though-- the eye and that scar aged him. He still didn’t know how Ed looked at him and thought ‘I want to kiss that’. Because, seriously.. Look at him. Ridiculous guy. “Why?” He questioned after a moment, having caught on to that shit-eating grin of the wizard’s. What was he thinking? Oh, that wasn’t a good look. Not on anyone. Especially not on Harry Dresden. Somehow, he was sure he’d get blamed for it, whatever it was. *** “And he hasn’t burned the place down yet?” Harry asked, surprised. Mustang had some damned self control, that was for sure. If Harry were plopped next to that bullshit he’d have killed everyone by now. The entire Inn would be ash and dust and fading embers. No wonder Mustang was suicidal. Harry snickered. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry said, patting York’s thigh lightly before he pushed himself to standing. “You can keep the blanket, I don’t want anything that’s been near your junk. Thanks for coming and for… for that,” he gestured vaguely where Texas had been sitting earlier. “I’m going to sleep, you’re welcome to sit there and watch if you want to.” Weirdo. *** “No, man..” He pushed to his feet with a smirk. “I had a sixteen year old boy and a twenty-two year old wall of solid muscle sleeping against me. And now I’m missing. I’m sure the place will be a wreck when I get back.” They’d panic, surely, with York suddenly gone. They’d think he’d vanished. “Tell Cas he’s not allowed to do that anymore.” No stealing the golden soldier away from his friends in the dark of night. “And you take care, okay? Not just of her, but yourself, too. You’re important to me and I expect you to be in tip-top shape. So.. shave or something, you look like a fuckin’ mountain man.” So said the King of the Mountain Men, up until yesterday. “You need anything else, though, you let me know.” Yeah, he’d walk home in a sheet, without shoes, in the dark, in a strange criminal town. York would be fine. |