Freelancer New York (freelancer_york) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-08-10 19:51:00 |
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The taller Freelancer was on his daily sabbatical to Harry Dresden’s house. As usual, he’d brought along something to eat, with Delta reminding him every step of the way that going to visit Harry Dresden wasn’t a good idea. The man had attacked him-- Hell, the wizard had (for all intents and purposes) killed him. And if it hadn’t been for Bob, both Delta and York would have died, because they’d have had no way to repair the damage done. There were still chunks of that day that were missing from York’s memory, but Delta had decided that was for the best. He’d told his host what he needed to know and that was good enough for the two of them. He had done something to scare Harry, and Harry had done what he thought was necessary to protect himself. Really, could the Freelancer fault him for that? No. York had no hard feelings, Harry had done good. But, he was now being far more cautious. He didn’t want to scare the man again, so he wasn’t touching him as much, he hadn’t hugged him since, and he was keeping a wider berth between them, so as not to make Harry feel threatened. It was the least he could do. He certainly didn’t want to make his very best friend feel unsafe in his own home. He wished he could remember what he’d done to scare Harry so badly, though. Delta sure wasn’t talking. Up the stairs to Harry’s apartment space, York knocked (something new, it’d been something he and the AI had discussed on the way over, and the blonde had agreed it sounded like a very good idea), and waited there at the door. This wasn’t his home anymore and if Harry was scared of him (the thought made York’s stomach sink, but he understood all the same) then he shouldn’t just have free access that way. *** For some reason York stopped coming into the apartment randomly. It was a little weird, because the wizard had gotten used to his carefree approaches and the random visits on the off hours after York had gotten out of work or before he was set to head off for a long night. He’d given him a key for exactly that reason. “Well, you did kill him,” Bob had told Harry when he’d asked him about it the other day. “Can you blame a guy?” It made Harry’s heart sink, but it was true. He’d stopped York’s heart and if it weren’t for Delta still struggling inside the Freelancer’s brain he wouldn’t have come around again. Harry could forgive him the caution, even if it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. First he’d attacked Tex and then he’d accidentally murdered York in a reflex based assault. He hadn’t thrown any magic at him, but the very act of drawing up that energy had been enough. It was scary. So anyway, there was a knock at the door and Harry got up to open it, half expecting Tex so he’d adopted a wry, pleasant little expression that dropped flat when he found a blonde. A blonde that was decidedly male, almost as tall as he was, and missing an eye. “Oh, hey, York,” he said brightly, coughing slightly to clear his throat and the embarrassment from his face. “You know I haven’t changed the locks---did you lose the key?” He asked, suddenly suspicious. But he stepped back and let the Freelancer in. *** The door opened and there was Harry-- if York was honest about it, this was the best part of his day. Every day. He loved being around Ed, the young man was great, even if he was a little down in the dumps. But York was dedicated and loyal and it was too late, Ed was stuck with him. Harry, though.. Harry was different. Harry had very quickly become the Freelancer’s best friend, his brother. Really, if he was going to put a label to it, he’d decided Harry was his little brother, and damned if he wasn’t going to see him every single day, and make sure he was eating, and healthy, and happy, and safe. Spartans were protective by nature, York even moreso. “Hey, Harry. I brought dinner.” Nothing he’d cooked, of course. It was decent enough space food, though. Lord, all he wanted to do was set the bag down so he could hug the taller man, but he didn’t. Instead, he came inside, giving the wizard a bright smile, and heading to set the food down on the table. “Yeah, no, I didn’t lose it, I just thought..” He rolled his shoulders and pulled the necklace with the crystal (and the key slipped onto it), from his pocket. “I thought you’d feel safer if I didn’t have unlimited access to your place. I know I fucked up the other day, and I wanted you to know I’m not just gonna show up unannounced and hurt you or anything, that’s not the type of guy I am.” The necklace was laid gently on the dining table. “When you feel comfortable with me again, and like you can trust me with it, you can give it back.” There. That seemed like a good deal to York. “Now come eat.” He’d begin pulling food from the bag, setting it out on that table, so Harry could collect what he wanted. *** Harry stood there looking like an idiot, just staring down at the crystal and the key to his apartment. Uninhibited access to his home and to the wizard himself. Only two people in Chicago had that. Karrin Murphy--an ex-cop and Harry’s oldest friend--and Harry’s blood brother, Thomas. He didn’t hand them out freely, he didn’t extend that kind of trust to just anyone. So having it handed back to him was a kick in the nuts. Or maybe a punch to the heart. Harry stared at it. York was talking. There was food. Harry wasn’t hungry. He looked at the Freelancer, then stepped away from the crystal and key, leaving it where the soldier had put it. He didn’t want it. He’d given it to York for a reason and now York was trying to give it back. God. That hurt. He thought Harry didn’t trust him. That was so far from the truth the wizard couldn’t even put it into words. Harry pushed a hand through his hair and exhaled a breath. “You keep it,” he said. “I gave it to you.” There, words, finally. Harry leaned his hip against the table and watched the soldier with steady brown eyes. Suddenly the last few days made more sense. York didn’t think Harry trusted him anymore. York thought he’d fucked up when Harry had been the one to stop the kid’s heart. Jesus. “You’re an idiot.” *** That single blue eye lifted as Harry finally spoke. You keep it. I gave it to you.. It could have been Christmas morning. The whole of the Freelancer seemed to brighten, his body squaring and growing a little taller as his slight slump left, chin lifting and shoulders rolling back. Oh, he looked positively thrilled. Like mom and dad had given him the keys to his very first car. “Really?” He wasted no time reaching out to snag the necklace off the table and reclaim it as his own. “Man, Harry-- look, I promise I’ll knock and everything before coming in. I won’t just.. Show up or whatever. I’ll give you some warning, and if you don’t want me you can just tell me to go the Hell away and I will.” New rules. Fantastic rules that hopefully would make the wizard feel less threatened. Oh, man, it was impossible to miss the way he bounced just a little on his toes, looking like he wanted to come around that table and hug the older man. He barely managed to restrain himself, so excited was the Freelancer. The necklace found its way back onto his neck without another moment wasted, tucked protectively beneath his t-shirt. A hand briefly touched it, under the fabric, just to remind him it was there and safe, before he went back to unpacking food. “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.” About being an idiot. “I really don’t remember what happened, but I really am sorry. I didn’t even consider, after Tex, I mean-- I didn’t think about it.” He was apologizing for doing something he didn’t remember doing-- something he didn’t even do. He was sure he must have attacked Harry or something. Threatened him? He couldn’t remember. “I would never hurt you, not if I could help it. I mean, not ever-- I’m so sorry, Harry.” And here the wizard was, giving him back that trust as if it were nothing. Harry was really the best friend he’d ever had. *** There it was, the youthful exuberance that Harry was accustomed to with York. He sometimes acted like he was an 80 year old war veteran and then at others he was a 12 year old boy again. Harry actively wanted to protect that good nature, the spirited heart that lived inside York. For all the shit he’d been through the world still hadn’t crushed his spirit, it was a beautiful thing to see. Harry smiled a little, his heart unclenched a degree, and then York put the necklace back on and Harry had to bow his head a little and rub that annoying eyelash out of his eye. Fucking rebels committing mutiny at the wrong time. “York-” The Freelancer kept talking, kept apologizing for… for what? “York, what?” Harry said, puzzled. “You didn’t-” Harry stared at him. York didn’t remember what happened. Why hadn’t Delta told him? Harry looked at the Freelancer and wanted to meet that solid blue eye if it would have connected him to the AI inside his head so he could demand why the hell he hadn’t told York what happened. It would just make things a whole lot worse though so the wizard jerked his gaze away at the last second before he could start the soulgaze. He rubbed his head instead and then squinted at the soldier. “York, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I just… I told you, I’m a paranoid asshole. Cas was there and I…” He’d felt threatened and cornered and was hating himself and he’d been stupid. So stupid. “I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose.” What York had just said to him. Not unless he needed to. Not unless it was necessary. Harry lowered his eyes again. That was the kind of man he was, wasn’t it? Fuck. *** There it was again. Harry had looked up, briefly met York’s eye, and he’d looked away again. It made the Spartan’s heart sink a little. Harry looked Cas in the eye. He looked Tex in the eye. Fuck, he even looked Gambit in the eye. But he wouldn’t look at York. The golden Freelancer tried his best not to think about it. It hurt. “Delta told me, Harry, you don’t have to do that. I know I scared you.” A little smirk curled his lips for that. “I’m not ignorant of what I look like, you know. And sometimes I get a little intense. But whatever I did, I’m sorry, and I know I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He balled up the bag once the food was all out and lifted his gaze to Harry once again. “And I know you wouldn’t hurt me if you could help it, but if you ever think I’m going to come after you, if you’re ever worried for your life around me, Harry, you do whatever it takes to protect yourself.” Just like he’d told Harry to kill Texas. There was your permission to kill him, wizard, if you ever found the need. You were absolved. “I mean that.” Those words were more pointed, before he slid one of the little boxes towards Harry’s side of the table, and opened the third one to set on the floor for Mouse, ruffling the dog’s ears up a little. “Now sit and eat something.” He knew the other man had been working all day. Tex had complained about it. *** “It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said a beat later. “I’m paranoid. Everything-” Everything registered as a threat, that was just how Harry’s life worked. He’d been stabbed in the back by things his whole life. Sure, yeah, most of them were monsters he’d expected to turn on him. But once upon a time even Karrin had put him in cuffs and refused to believe he was innocent when he hadn’t done a thing wrong. Even Thomas would do everything for the love of his life Justine over Harry’s (or so the wizard believed. But who could say?). The idea that York would defend his friends first wasn’t lost on Harry. He appreciated it. Hell, he’d told Castiel the same thing, more or less. Dean Winchester came first. Harry scowled though and stepped closer to York (knowing his foul moods were enough to destabilize the AI sometimes) and took a hold of his arm to draw his attention up to the wizard. “I almost took a bullet for you. I would have if you hadn’t been there to stop her. Don’t for one second think that I’d put one inside your head for any reason. I got scared, York, but it wasn’t anything you did. I’d mixed pills, alcohol, and Cas scared the shit out of me and yeah, you looked a little like you wanted to kill me. But you didn’t do anything.” Harry let him go. “So stop being stupid.” *** The grasping of his arm certainly gained his attention and York stared wide-eyed at the wizard for a moment, listening to those words. Harry was right, of course. He’d almost died for York, once, but that was before the Freelancer had seemed any sort of threat. And now that his friend knew exactly what he was, what he could do.. Things were different. But here was Harry, telling him he hadn’t done anything. And then that hand was gone. York wasn’t ready for the ache in his chest its absence left behind. He missed Harry. “Yeah.. well. I’m still sorry. We both kinda screwed up,” a little smirk found his face again, “But we’re good now.” He shifted a little, watching Harry for a few long seconds, then he looked back down at Mouse, already finishing up his food. A few long seconds passed. “Is it okay if I go back to touching you?” Please? *** That wide eye was painful to look at. Harry had a way of surprising the Freelancers and every time he did it he felt a little bit like an asshole, but it was usually to teach them something important. What was he forcefully teaching York right now to make his eyes widen like that? That he was his friend? Yeah okay, calm down Dresden. Harry took a deep breath again then nodded his head. “We both screwed up, you’re right, and we can both blame ourselves and move on now,” he clapped York’s shoulder lightly then paused. Is it okay if I go back to touching you? Harry laughed a little, there was no way in the world that anyone listening in on this conversation would ever think they weren’t some awkward couple. Jesus Christ. “Yeah, York,” Harry said anyway, despite himself. He shook his head. “I was just getting used to it anyway.” And that was the truth. York was a lot more touchy than Harry had ever been in his life and look at him now! Twice now in one evening he’d volunteered to reach out and lay hands on the soldier. That was progress if Harry had any say in it. The wizard smiled faintly, then his stomach finally rumbled a little and he looked at the food York had brought. Man, the kid was crazy considerate of the wizard. After he’d seen the inside of Harry’s pantry in the old apartment who could blame him for bringing food? Harry’s life was that of a perpetual bachelor. If it didn’t come in a carry out box he wasn’t keeping it inside his home. “Thanks for dinner. Hey, after we eat can I ask you for a favor?” Harry collected silverware and some napkins. “I need to cut my hair before Tex does it while I sleep.” *** Permission granted, York stepped in to wrap his arms around the poor Wizard in a hug, holding on for a moment. It felt good. Shit, he’d missed this. He’d been missing this for days. And he’d needed it so badly after what had happened, but he hadn’t been able to ask Harry for it, and when he’d give Tex a side-glance, she’d glared at him. But, she had sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a few hours. It’d been good enough. This was better. Hug finally released, the blonde went back to the discussion of the meal, simple as that. “Yeah, anything you need.” He offered, even before Harry had actually told him what the favor was. It didn’t matter what it was. He’d do it. “Cut your hair? Yeah, sure.” The significance wasn’t lost on him, he remembered well that Harry had told him any bit of himself left behind could be used against him. The soldier imagined hair was part of that. Sinking down into his chair, he’d wait for Harry to sit, too, before he started to eat. “You are starting to look a little shaggy.” He agreed after that first bite, a smile curling across his face once again. “Tex mentioned it to me. I think her cutting it in your sleep is a very real possibility. You’re making the right decision here.” And he was pleased to be chosen. That was a lot of trust Harry was laying on him, and after thinking he’d lost all of it, this was a heady experience. He knew how paranoid the wizard was. *** The hug was nice though the wizard would never admit it. Things were okay. They could breathe, the world… well Knowhere wasn’t spinning but life continued on. Harry hadn’t fucked off the one friendship he’d most wanted to keep since he’d arrived. It was good. So when they finally sat down to eat like the non-couple they were, Harry actually felt good about it. Mouse watched him with doleful eyes after having scarfed down his own portion already and Harry felt generous enough to spoon a little extra off of his plate for him. The wizard was happy. He started eating but something eventually paused that pleasant activity. Of course Tex talked to York about things. As demented as they seemed sometimes they were still friends and Harry had learned Tex wasn’t just an automated killing machine. Underneath her brazen ferocity she was an intelligent woman with thoughts of her own inside her head. But she talked to York about Harry? Sheepishly, Harry set his fork down and eyed the younger man. “Has Tex told you that … we uh,” he paused awkwardly. This part shouldn’t be so difficult between two men. Why the hell did Harry revert to a teenager whenever topics of sex came up? “That we’re… we’ve been together?” He said finally. There, that was it. It was out of the bag. Friendship, see? They talked about all sorts of things like friends did. Harry hoped he wasn’t blushing. *** York paused. He brought that blue eye back up to the wizard and he stared at him for a moment, as if he didn’t understand. Then, it seemed to dawn on him and his facial expression shifted a little. “Like.. together together?” Yeah, these were two grown men. Very manly friend things going on right here. When he got confirmation, York leaned back in his chair a little, meal forgotten for now. “No. She hasn’t said anything to me about it. I mean, I knew the two of you were having sex, but..” ‘Together’? That was news. Tex hadn’t said they were ‘together’. “Wow, man.” Clearly, York was pretty surprised about that news. Harry and Tex were dating? *** “What?” Harry asked sharply, confusion washing over his face and his freaking cheeks heating up. “No! We’re not--no.” He said. What the hell part of his question had translated into that? They weren’t together. They were just… they’d been together. Harry stared at York, pushed himself away from the table and got himself a can of Coke and a beer for York. He brought them both back then looked at the soldier as he cracked open the can. Harry took a drink. “We’re not together,” he said. “Not like that. She doesn’t strike me as the dating kind. It’s just---” he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘just sex’ because that had never been how Harry operated. He’d never been okay with ‘just sex’ it was all or nothing with him. And that’s what.. That’s what bothered him about the whole thing. It was good and it was nice and it felt freaking great. But it didn’t mean anything and there was a part of that that was missing. Harry toyed with the top of the can, picking at it. “Anyway, okay. Good to know.” That she’d told York. He didn’t know if she’d want it to be private,, if she’d… what part of Tex was ever kept under wraps though? Harry smiled faintly and shook his head to himself. “So that’s my news.” He sat down and pulled his plate closer to himself again. *** York stared at him in confusion as Harry seemed to struggle with.. What was he struggling with? That he and Tex weren't in a relationship, but they were having sex? The way he understood it, that was pretty normal in the 21st century. It wasn't normal in the 26th century. But York didn't say anything, it wasn't really his place. “Well I think it's great news, Harry. You deserve a little something good.” And sex was good, right? He knew sex with Texas was good, Church had often told him. He didn't need to know that. Really. He was okay. “If it matters, she thinks you're pretty awesome. She was running her mouth about you, and your magic. She was telling me all about it. And for Tex being Tex, that's pretty much her way of saying you're alright.” Could Harry even imagine those two sitting on a couch together, with Tex telling York about the man she was currently shagging? Or, at least about his magic. They hadn't been sitting on a couch. *** “Yeah, well, my magic is pretty cool,” Harry said and didn’t even mean it in a sexual way. Adulthood restored, he could stop feeling like an embarrassed teenager now. Harry laughed a little at himself and his idiocy and then he finished his meal, mostly. He dumped the rest on Mouse’s plate (the dog had been watching the whole time) before he cleaned things up and set the kitchen back to rights. He wasn’t normally so clean and tidy (he’d once had a cleaning service in the form of dewdrop faeries but that was long gone now) but when you had people over it just made sense to clean. It was also a good method for meditation and helped him put his thoughts back into focus before he returned to York and Mouse and looked at the pair with a particular fondness. Friends. Life was good. Harry produced a pair of scissors, handed them off to York and said, “Haircut. I’ve never owned a shaver that’s lasted more than five minutes near me, so we’re doing this the old fashioned way. Just dump it into the sink so I can burn it.” Paranoia, heh. Whatever Harry was wary of, he could kill it with fire. Even if it included bits of stray hair. The wizard collected a chair and brought it into the kitchen where he sat. Probably not to the healthiest place for a haircut, but Harry needed a place to sit and two giants in a bathroom was one giant too many. The kitchen would work. *** The kitchen was entirely acceptable, York taking hold of those scissors with a smile and waggling them a little as if to say ‘I got this’. With Harry sat, he nodded and would start to get to work. He'd done it plenty of times before, not always with clippers, they didn't always have them available. “Sometimes I wonder if I should apologize for coming into your life and bringing all this insanity with me.” Himself, Tex, Roy, Riza. He paused mid-cut and considered a minute, then leaned a little so he could look at Harry. “You asked about my war once.” A statement. “Do you wanna see my armor?” He seemed oddly proud in that moment. His armor. *** Harry laughed, “York, this is normal.” He twisted a little to look at the soldier who was leaning a little to look at him too. “My life is usually insane, I promise this is nothing to be concerned about.” And it was true. When you were a wizard that lived outside the bounds of the normal standards, life was nuts. Most wizards didn’t do the shit Harry Dresden did. He advertised his craft in the yellow pages. Most of the White Council would like to see him hanged for that. In a society where privacy and secrecy were the keys to survival, Harry defied it and invited chaos into his life because of it. A stray soldier and his creepy alchemist friends were tame in comparison to the shit the wizard got himself mixed up with. But then York was talking about his war and the wizard went quiet for a second, recalling how uncomfortable the topic had made York. He wanted to trust Harry with his armor? With his history even in part? “Yeah,” Harry said after a moment, “Sure. Just don’t put it on, probably, I’d probably screw it up.” Because when York said ‘armor’ Harry sure as shit wasn’t imagining a knight from the old days. He was imagining something closer to Iron Man. He’d be wrong. He just didn’t know how much. *** Harry’s life wasn't any more strange than usual? Well, at least York was glad for that. He would continue cutting, a little smile on his face. “Nah, the armor won't be impressive without me in it. It'll just be a pile of metal and a black bodysuit.” And what fun was that? It was nothing if York wasn't in it, unlike Iron man, where the suit was it's own entity. The MJOLNIR armor was made to accentuate the Spartan, where as Tony Stark's armor was everything. It was very different. “I promise, you won't mess it up anymore than you mess up Delta. I run it through a port in the helmet, it works with me. Delta lends a helping hand to make it that much better. It's really pretty impressive.” That wasn't the word. “I don't fly, though, unless I'm falling, or I have a jet pack. But I don't have one of those and I have no more plans to jump from another skyscraper, so you won't be getting the airborne demonstration.” His words, of course, came with a smile as he moved around the front of the older man to finish up the front of his hair. He had carefully collected all that hair into one of the paper bags from his grocery shopping. It was why he saved them, for trash bags. And they would burn so nicely. “All done.” He said after a few more minutes, folding up that bag and offering it out to Harry like some sort of present. He looked proud. He felt that way, too. This was just one of many ways he could help protect his friend: making sure everything was kept out of other hands. He wouldn't let any of his wizard be stolen. *** “From what I understand I screw up Delta to near dying, York,” Harry said flatly. But he didn’t argue too hard. If York thought the armor would survive Harry, then the armor would survive Harry. Who was the wizard to say otherwise when the gear wasn’t his? That trust thing. He had to trust York knew what he was talking about. Harry smiled faintly when the soldier finished cutting his hair, handing back the chopped off locks in a paper bag. That was friendship there. Harry took it, eyed the Freelancer and said, “I better not be bald, York, I’ll take your glass eye out.” But he smiled as he said it, getting to his feet to drop the whole thing into the kitchen sink. He eyed York just briefly so the Freelancer would back up a pace or ten before he drew in his will and set the bag on fire. Moments later it and its contents were reduced to a small mound of ash inside the sink, which Harry flushed away with water. Safety first, kids. Pushing his hand through his shorter locks, Harry felt a little better about the whole thing. Now he looked human in addition to feeling it. “Thanks, man.” Then he turned to look at York and tried to imagine him jumping off a skyscraper or flying with a jetpack or what kind of jetpack it’d take to lift the giant of a soldier in front of him. Inside armor. “So is that what you fought in your war with? A suit of armor. That’s pretty freaking neat.” *** “You didn't want to be bald?” York asked with all seriousness, looking a little startled. Oops? No, just kidding. He broke out into a grin seconds later. He hadn't cut all of his hair off. And it didn't look half bad! He'd drag the chair back to the table as Harry burned his hair, lingering back near said table and watching. By the time the sink had run, a small bit of blood had begun to trickle from York’s nose, but he wiped it away with the brush of a thumb, then sucked the blood off absently, a habit he'd gotten into after Harry yelled at him about leaving his blood around. “Yeah, Tex and I both have one. If we didn't, we couldn't possibly survive the things we do. We didn't once land anywhere to deploy, we jumped from eighty feet in the air, so we didn't risk the Pelican going down too low.” They wouldn't have survived getting to the ground, let alone the fight. “Nothing human survived.” And he meant that with all seriousness. The only ones to survive had been the ones to get off world, the ones who had run and made it to the ships. And the ships that had made it out of the atmosphere. Everyone else had died. Every soldier. Everyone except the Spartans. They had been the last humans on the planet, the last to evacuate. It'd been awful. “I like to think it's pretty impressive.” His armor was, at least. York had looked like some type of angel, gleaming gold, he glinted in the sun. York’s armor stood out on any terrain. A target. “You'll have to come down to the lab.” It was where he'd stored it, in the crate Harry let him stash down there. *** Nothing human survived. Nothing but the most badass things ever do, Harry thought to himself. Sometimes he was reminded very roughly about the kind of people both York and Texas were. They were easy to consider purely human but they were also war machines. Harry stared at his friend for the length of several heartbeats then he nodded and said, “Sure.” Turning away, Harry muttered his candles to a low burn so nothing would catch fire then led York back down to the lab. It was quiet and dark and chill inside, Harry didn’t pause in gesturing vaguely, uttering a phrase of Latin that lighted the rows and rows of candles overhead, casting the whole place in a weirdly eerie glow. He strode into the center of the room and considered a ceiling fan to dispel the magical energies. York wouldn’t be safe inside this space during business hours or the times Harry practiced his craft. Tex would get a nose bleed too. Harry frowned. No time for it now. He just thought technology positive thoughts and stood back to wait for York to do his business. He didn’t know the armor was in the giant crates. He’d never asked York what was in it. He’d just agreed to let him house it there. There was enough space. But now? Well, now the wizard was dead curious. *** York led Harry over to the darker corner. The lights never seemed to bother him, it wasn't a strong enough magic. Some things slipped by, others were more devastating. That fire magic seemed to be the worst when used in conjunction with York, except the candles. Maybe that was somehow different? Regardless, the Freelancer would take the lid off the crate and tug off some foam and pull out his helmet. That was tossed towards Harry with abandon. “Catch!” Even if he missed, it could take harder falls than a spill to concrete. If caught, he'd see the visor was an orange color and highly reflective. The Armor itself a stunning gold, and it was heavy. Fifteen pounds at least, and that was just the helmet. Why was it gold? What sort of soldier fought in gold armor? Was the whole squad gold? Maybe it was a ranking thing. Who knew? It just didn't seem very smart. “It's all like that, the armor weighs about five hundred pounds by itself, I make it nearly eight hundred. Tex is a little over seven. We're a pretty hard team to fight against.” Understandably. It didn't take too long, the Spartan was practiced at putting in the armor. He had to stand to do the bottom portion, but was sat on the side of the crate for the top. When done? Well, the armor’s movement was silent, though the footsteps heavy. He came closer to Harry and held out a hand for the helmet, a little grin curling his lips. Without the helmet, he was Harry’s height. With it? Well, the wizard would finally be shorter than someone. “It feels like a second skin.” It was. No room for movement inside the suit, it was tight to every muscle, feeling the shift there and responding. York slipped the helmet on and locked it, then held his arms out at his sides. Damn. Every light in the lab reflected off of him, even though the armor was relatively dirty, scratched, and battle worn. It was so reflective and golden. *** Harry watched curiously then jumped a little when York tossed the helmet at him. There was a reason he’d never made the football team in high school (he had flashbacks of the year he’d tried out in order to impress his sister slash everything, Elaine). He was a nerdy wizard. Not a linebacker no matter how big he was. So he nearly fumbled the helmet, the unexpected weight making the wizard take an extra step to secure it, before it could slip out of his hands. Even then he was half bent toward the ground and barely managed to right himself, dragging it close against his chest. Damn. Harry looked down at the helmet, then away again. Bright and reflective, he wasn’t going to make eye contact with himself in its surface. He tucked it under his arm and held it there while his eyes tracked back to York. Harry stepped closer out of curiosity but by the time York had dressed completely the wizard had backpedaled several yards out of surprise and awe. York was a behemoth of a human being in his own right. In his armor he was a living tank. Harry’s eyes scanned the machine in surprise and tense horror. No wonder the Spartans were so fierce. Look at them. A golden beast. A living fire under the right conditions. A single, unstoppable force of metal and circuitry. The damage to its surface didn’t take away from that. If anything, it made him look that much more dangerous. It was just as battle scarred as York was, just as resistant. It was beautiful and terrifying. Harry gave York back the helmet in silence and when it was locked on his head the wizard just stared. “Hell’s bells,” he murmured. Who wanted to go up against that in a fight? *** York laughed a little as Harry nearly fumbled his helmet, but waved a hand to say it was fine. It wouldn't have mattered if he dropped it. It was meant for impact. Though, once he was all dressed and the other man had a good look, the Spartan spoke, his voice coming out through the speakers along the side of the helmet. He sounded a little distant, but that was all. “I can remember the first time a group of UNSC soldiers saw a troop of us come to their rescue. They were terrified.” But grateful when they realized they were there to help. It had been the first and last time they had ever been able to save a whole squad. “I'm faster in the suit. Stronger. Tougher. It's really incredible. It's called MJOLNIR armor.” Like Thor’s hammer. Fitting. That was exactly what they were. They were the UNSC’s hammer. The actual armor wasn't reflective enough to see yourself in, but every angle caught the light. The visor, though.. *** “Thor,” Harry said, then his brain finally kicked in and started working again. “Like the hammer of Thor. The deadliest weapon in existence.” According to myth. Fitting, Harry thought. Super fitting. He eyed York, stepping around the giant of a machine, looking at him from head to toe in careful scrutiny. Harry knew absolutely nothing about armor, he couldn’t say what the weak points would be even if he was looking right at one. But it was impressive regardless, it didn’t look like it would fold at the slightest impact. It was scary as hell. “Hell of a target painted on your back, York,” Harry said evenly. “You’d stand out in any conditions, what gives?” Gold. Who made their armor gold? That didn’t make any logical sense. Unless you were trying to draw your enemies to a target. Harry exhaled a breath, “You’re the bait.” It clicked. Man, that was fucked up. “I’ve seen Texas and you both move outside of your armor,” He said. “It’s hard to imagine you’d get any stronger or faster than that.” But here the soldier was. It was incredible. Summoning all his wizardly courage, Harry stepped close enough to reach out and touch the armor. Freaking neat. A smile spread across his face. Humanity surviving. *** Humanity surviving. That they were. That they did. Barely and at one Hell of a cost. What had they resulted to, to survive? Stealing children from playgrounds, turning them into war machines. And it wasn't just that simple. Harry didn't understand the half of what had been done to those children. It was better he never did. When called bait, the Spartan tilted his head just so, dropping all his weight onto one leg and letting his body’s center of gravity shift a little to the side. He still stood like York, even in that armor. Somehow, the armor managed to look like him. Even with no face. “That's me.” He admitted with a chuckle coming through the speakers. The bait. “I draw them out. Draw their fire, hold them off while the team behind me moves in. I distract them and protect the others.” York’s job was to be beaten shitless so the others could advance, move position, or retreat. His sole purpose was to be hammered. Imagine that. He was used to the abuse. He was good at taking it. He offered out a hand to the wizard so he could look over the gloves if he wanted. Every inch was metal, except a few parts while were where his body suit was, black and nearly rubber feeling. It was much stronger than that, though. “Me and this armor, we go way back.” Years. It was the one thing he could really count on. *** “Is that what they programmed into your head or did they design your purpose around your nature?” Harry asked, looking at the gloved hands that could crush a human skull to dust. Scary. He looked up at York. York was good people. He was friendly and considerate and protective. He’d put himself in the line of fire for his friends. He’d been trained for it, or at least taken advantage of and made to do it. The thought bothered Harry a lot more than he showed. The wizard lowered his eyes and shook his head slightly. War was freaking ugly but he couldn’t judge the methods used in York’s war without looking at their own. The wizards too recruited kids and put them up for slaughter. Harry had trained some of them himself. But humanity had a cool survival instinct and would do whatever it took to continue. Every other species on the planet looked down on them, but very few understood the true threat humanity posed. York’s alien war proved that. Harry looked back up finally, a frown on his face. “Well, if I saw you charging down a field at me I’d pee myself and run away.” *** “It was my nature. I remember the first time they took us out to the training field. A big group of four and five year olds and half of us are just.. sobbing our little hearts out. And they grabbed one boy-- he was the biggest of us, and they pulled him out, and he stood there like a stone.” His words were so factual, different than normal as he remembered, there wasn't any emotion there. The helmet made it worse, with the slight static. “And this man, the Sergeant, he comes over and just.. started beating the ever loving shit out of this kid. He took it well for the first minute or two, but.. When you have a two hundred pound guy wailing on a kid..” York shook his head. “The first bone he broke, the kid starts screaming, and all the others were crying and backing away and getting shoved forward from behind to watch, and I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, but I ran out there and threw all sixty pounds of myself at that guy and told him to stop.” He paused there, clearly remembering. “So he did.” And had started in on York instead. The sacrifice. “I spent two weeks in medical, the other kid washed out a few months after that.. Romeo-23. He wasn't the first to go, but he went quick.” His shoulders shrugged up a little. “I was just always protective, they sort of fed into that, I guess. Gave me situations where I could choose to run in, or walk away. I always went in. Always volunteered, always did the front work so no one else had to.” Nature and conditioning. They were one Hell of a driving force when combined. “When I got older and got my armor, they made sure I'd be seen first.” And he was. How could anyone miss him? A soft laugh followed. “Sort of the point, I think. But the covenant rarely ran.” He quieted after that. Training was one thing, the war was another. He didn't like talking about it. But the Spartan program? That was easy. *** Harry listened, his expression hard and the cold look in his eyes worse. There was a special place in hell for people who abused children. He didn’t understand a world where a grown man would beat on a child until the other children did something about it. But he did understand the purpose. He understood that pain and violence were excellent motivators, because Justin DuMorne had done the same thing to Harry and Elaine. They hadn’t been five and innocent though. They’d been ten and wanting to be loved by a Father, lonely, and willing to do anything to please him. They hadn’t been taught to take a beating like York, not exactly - they weren’t training to fight a war for humanity’s sake - never made to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of the group. It had been DuMorne’s selfish pursuits. They had been trained to withstand a hailstorm of misery and then to fight back despite the pain. They’d been forced to turn their magic and their craft against each other no matter how much they loved one another. Elaine and Harry knew the ins and outs of each other because they’d been forced to learn, to work as a team, to be the seamless enforcers DuMorne had been training all along. Six years of abuse and Elaine had succumbed to DuMorne’s thralldom. She’d held Harry down when DuMorne tried to force himself onto Harry, into his mind. Harry understood York when York said he couldn’t hurt the other Freelancers, no matter the orders given. He understood a childhood of pain and horrible training practices. He understood that fear and betrayal when your friends, your siblings, became your enemies. It sucked. Standing there listening to York describe his life, his childhood and the very tender, protective nature inside York that they’d turned to their own benefits? Harry wanted to burn them all to the ground. He wanted to make them feel the same pain and hopelessness every child in that situation felt. It was better he didn’t know the details of York’s life, because Harry couldn’t abide by them. It made him angry and it made him hurt. And when Harry was angry he didn’t break down. He got up and he set the world ablaze. So he said nothing to York, but forced himself to breathe before he killed the armored wearing man in front of him on accident. What could he say that would make a difference? After a moment, when he felt calm enough to speak, Harry looked York over and said quietly, “You’re a good person, York. You’re a great person. To have all of that..” He gestured at him, all of him, “behind you and still be so good? I’m glad we’re friends, I’ve never met anyone better.” *** “I’m just glad it was me. I'd do it all over again. It was worth it. They did what they had to, and so did we.” His hands came up shortly after, releasing the helmet from the armor and sliding it off. He flashed Harry an easy smile. “I helped save the human race. If they hadn't done that to me, to all of us, we'd all be dead. There'd have been no Spartans to end it. I don't blame them, none of us ever did.” They'd been brainwashed, but it didn't mean they were wrong. “I blame the Covenant for coming to Reach and forcing them into that position.” It hadn't been anything like Harry. It wasn't for their pleasure, or the government’s sick entertainment, or the protection of one man. Those men had needed to do it. York realized, once he was much older, how much they'd hated it. He used to think that hatred in the soldier's eyes had been for the children they'd beaten, trained, starved, shot at, and experimented on. It hadn't. They'd hated themselves. But they did it because there was no other choice. It was that, or the entire human race. They'd made the right decision. “It's okay, Harry.” A hand came out and he gripped the wizard's shoulder. He could tell he'd upset the other man. But Harry was right. Tex hadn't come through as well as York had. And Tex wasn't as bad as some of the others. Hard to believe. *** What could Harry say to that? He couldn’t stand there and look a man in the eyes and tell him his whole life was a fucked up mess of evil practices. Not when that man already knew and didn’t mind it. He’d saved the human race, yeah. He’d been chosen above other children and he’d be chosen again to protect them from what happened to him. Harry couldn’t fault him for that when he’d do the same thing. Harry peered at the giant in his armor, surprised at how controlled his grip was inside that gloved hand when he’d squeezed Harry’s shoulder. It wasn’t fair to say his anger dissipated, but Harry did push it away. He stored it somewhere within, he kept it close enough to his heart so that when he would next draw fire or force he’d crush the thing making him angry with a storm of raw power. The wizard folded his arms across his chest and nodded his head at York. “Yeah,” he said eventually, getting a hold of himself. “Okay.” He wasn’t going to murder a bunch of people on the street. But he’d resolved to protect York if necessary. The kid had been through enough, Harry wouldn’t ask him for more. *** “Hey.” York said again, leaning in and bringing his face close to Harry’s-- within just a few inches, a smile on his face. He’d leaned in that close to try and get a reaction from the wizard, hopefully a smile. “What do you call a wizard from outer space?” His eyebrows went up, that hopeful smile still on his face. When Harry surely just stared at him, or found he couldn’t come up with an answer, the blonde across from him broke into a wider grin. “A flying sorcerer.” All he wanted to do was cheer the poor man up. He didn’t want Harry angry for his sake. He was fine. See? And it really was a tragedy the taller man refused to look York in the eye for more than a second at best, because there was no mistaking the emotion there. That idiot soldier loved his idiot wizard friend. He’d do anything for Harry. He was his very best friend-- and it was perfectly fine that the brunette man didn’t feel quite the same way, York was used to one-sided relationships. *** “This isn’t a good way to maintain a professional relationship with me, York,” Harry replied, but the soldier’s antics had done as desired: the wizard smiled. How could he not with that ridiculous smile and that ridiculous freaking joke? “Dumbass.” Harry shook his head slowly, then he laughed and in laughing he felt better. Laughs were a magic of their own, if you could keep laughing in the face of horrible odds and even worse ends.. Well, then you had made it through whatever was trying to bring you down. Humanity intact. So yeah, Harry laughed and it made him feel human. York always did. |