Texas - There are no strings on me. (strings_on_me) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-06 21:02:00 |
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Tex had made her way downstairs and out of that building at speed, ignoring the way the blood ran down the back of her neck and stained the dark shirt she was wearing. At least she didn’t drip it, it all got sopped up in thick cotton. Harry had followed behind her not long after, so he was only about three hundred feet behind has as they both walked home. She got into the lab first. She got up the stairs first. And by the time the wizard got into the house, he’d hear her in his room, Mouse certainly not far off her heels. She was bleeding and the dog was clearly concerned. The Spartan wasn’t sure about his concern and had chosen to sit in the middle of Harry’s bed to avoid that searching, worried nose. She was also holding something to stem the bleeding at the back of her head. A familiar dark blue color, which looked suspiciously like a shirt. Don’t mind that Harry’s dresser drawer was open, either. Yeah. She’d gone through the tall man’s clothes instead of going to their extensive medical cabinet, and she’d found something to use for a makeshift bandage in there. The way her cold eyes locked onto the wizard when he inevitably entered the room told him it was probably an article of clothing that he liked. A lot. “Everyone okay?” She questioned once he was standing in the doorway. *** Oh, you bitch. Ungraciously, Harry glared at Texas, because he could see clearly what had transpired in the two minutes it took him to catch up with her. He’d left his staff behind in the main room (probably a dumb idea given the way his day was going), and had shed his leather duster, leaving him in work boots, jeans, and a plain dark t-shirt. He stopped in the doorway to his bedroom, looked around, his eyes passing over Mouse who was watching him with stoic eyes and a tentatively swishing tail, then landed squarely on Texas and his Spiderman T. And that, friends, was why he thought Texas was a bitch. She was getting blood all over his shirt. His favorite shirt. His favorite shirt he was going to have the actual Spiderman autograph. That bitch. “There’s an entire closet dedicated to medical supplies and you’re ruining my clothes why?” Because she knew he’d burn it instead of washing it. He never kept anything that had touched anyone’s blood; not because it was creepy and toxic, but because he was a creepy wizard that could do a whole world of hurt with it. It was just bad manners to possess something so intimate as bodily fluids. Harry scowled. *** “I couldn’t find any bandages.” Lying bitch. She held the make-shift bandage to her head for a bit longer before pulling it away and looking down at it. Then those cold eyes came back to Harry and she turned the shirt to get to a non-bloody spot and deliberately wiped the blood from her neck while maintaining eye contact. Take that, Dresden. And once she was certain that it was as bloody as she could possibly get it, the Spartan tossed the shirt right at the wizard. Catch, Harry. Then, she was climbing from the bed. Er... on the side that wasn’t where Mouse was patiently waiting. “I’m going to get a shower.” Announced simply as she peeled off the black t-shirt she had been wearing, balled that up and threw it at Harry, also. It, too, was covered in blood, blood that was smeared down her back and over her bra, and drew a nice line along that outline of a star between her shoulderblades. With those words, she was moving into Harry’s bathroom, where he had a lovely stand-up shower (also big enough for two or even three) near his incredibly wonderful bathtub. But who wanted to soak in their own blood? Seriously. The water flicked on a moment later. *** Harry let the shirt fall to the ground at his feet rather than reaching out to catch it. He eyed it grumpily, then eyed the woman when she got up and skirted around Mouse. Harry was tempted, in that moment, to order Mouse’s attack. The dog would question it for just a second but he would ultimately do what Harry said. Harry had witnessed him shred monsters more than once in their years together. The second shirt came and fell near the wizard, that gross smell of blood filling the wizard’s nose. His eyes narrowed more. Then he stalked after Texas--what a dumb tattoo--and followed her into the bathroom. Bad idea, probably, for cornering an injured animal. But Harry wasn’t always the brightest person in the world. He reached for her- “What the fuck is your problem?” he growled. “Sit down so I clean your stupid head.” *** By the time he’d made it into the bathroom, she’d dropped her bra on the floor (customary for Tex, she wasn’t very good at cleaning up after herself, she sort of just threw everything everywhere, it was obviously some sort of rebellion against her military instincts, because York was obsessively clean, like many soldiers) and was already stepping out of her boots and undoing the zip on her pants. But she paused as Harry reached out for her arm and those chilly eyes fell on him again, narrowing down a little, daring him to actually lay a hand on her. Go ahead, Wizard, see what happened. “I just want a shower.” Snapped out. She felt disgusting. She felt dirty. It wasn’t on her skin, though, it was all in her brain, well.. What passed for a brain, considering this was Tex. *** “And I want to die by getting stepped on by an elephant while having sex with redhead twins. Guess we don’t always get what we want, do we?” He replied sarcastically, and he did indeed grab her by the arm. “Sit.” She took care of him after she’d fucked him up, he could return the favor. “Then I’ll see about letting you take a shower in my bathroom.” She had her own. And it wasn’t that Harry was against sharing his.. Okay, no that was totally it. It was petty and it was childish and it was entirely within his scope of behavior, but the bathroom, his room, this apartment was his. She had her designated living space and he liked her being inside the apartment as a whole. But this room was his. And she invaded it. She ruined his things, though let’s be honest, it would bother him a lot more if she’d gone for the shelf of books that was steadily growing on the other side of the room. This was his life and when it struck her to be an asshole, she had no regard for any of it. Child, meet child two. Harry glared more. *** Snagged by the arm, Tex allowed herself to be pulled back and turned, her chin lifting some in defiance, those pale eyes narrowed down into a matching glare. Go ahead, Harry. Try not to look down at your topless.. Er.. roommate? She’d taken her bra off for specifically that reason. How good would he be at patching her up if she was sitting there topless? When he demanded she sit, however, a curling little bitchy smile appeared on her face. “You first.” Implying, of course, she’d happily sit in his lap. Tex just really couldn’t behave, could she? The Spartan had learned a long time ago that sex was a powerful weapon when used right. It just so happened to be that Harry was one of those people she could use it against. But, at least it seemed like she was going to let him take a look at her head. It was a hit that should have cracked open her skull, but of course it hadn’t. She was just as tough as York. *** “Cute,” Harry replied flatly. He did look at her breasts. Man, hello. But she was covered in blood and while that appealed to the ugly nature of Winter a whole hell of a lot, it didn’t appeal to Harry because he’d been the one to do it. He’d made choices that put them in this situation and there was no impulse in the world that could make him set that aside. He’d chosen to go after her, he’d chosen to hit her, he’d followed her back. And here they were where she was bleeding all over the inside of his bathroom, leaving behind articles of bloodied clothing like it was her personal trashcan. But she didn’t fight him, Harry just looked at her for a moment then pointed stubbornly at the toilet. He let her arm go, turned to wash his hands in the sink, then gathered several supplies he thought he’d need before he turned back to Texas. “I’m sorry I hit you,” he said. But he thought it was a better choice than killing her. *** When he stubbornly insisted she sit down, the woman finally did, letting out an annoyed puff of breath. She didn’t need to, of course, it was all about letting him know she was annoyed. But she watched him like a hawk while he found all those medical supplies and eventually came back over, looking like some sort of doctor out of a TV show. A bad daytime drama. “Don’t apologize to me, you idiot.” Her eyes remained locked on him, challenging and fierce. “And don’t look at me like that. You did what you had to do and that’s that, so don’t make a big fucking deal out of it. Just.. throw a few stitches in and let me get a damn shower, I’ve got blood in my hair.” And she wanted to get it out. She let her elbows drop to her thighs and her hands dangle between her knees, putting her lower to the ground and thus making it harder for the giant that was Harry Dresden. At least she hadn’t done that intentionally, she’d only done it so the back of her head was more easily accessible, so this could be over sooner. *** Harry smiled faintly. She didn’t know him at all if she thought he could go about doing things and not hate himself afterward. Harry always acted in the moment, always did what was necessary. It was the aftermath that hurt, when he had the chance to realize exactly what he’d done. Once, when his Captain Luccio had her body snatched by a creature called Corpsetaker, Harry had put a gun to Luccio’s head on a hunch and pulled the trigger. His guess had been right, in the end, but there was no way for him to tell with certainty at the time. Cold. That had rocked Harry for a while after that, that he could be so mercenary. He didn’t like hurting people. Especially not those he loved. But he did settle into silence and lean in close, like a fucking giraffe god damnit, to clean Texas up, quietly probing, cleaning, and then applying poorly done stitches where necessary. He wasn’t any better at the patchjobs than she was, but at least he didn’t shave her head to make it more accessible. Though he probably honestly should have. Whatever. Spartans didn’t seem to accumulate scars, maybe that one would scar, and no one would be able to see it anyway. When Harry was finished, he dropped everything with her blood on it onto the floor and then set the whole mess on fire with a whispered word. “Shower,” he said, “and then we’re talking about what’s going on with you.” *** Harry, unfortunately, had gotten the strange Spartans. York, who had a healing unit (the man didn’t have a single damn scar on him, not one! Well.. okay, he had two. And a missing eye. Which seemed almost weird, considering he did have that healing unit-- it was just best not to ask about it, it was a sore subject) and Tex, who had a body that wasn’t really hers. Other Spartans had scars. They had scars running up their arms, their legs, their spines, over their hips, along the backs of their hands-- they had plenty of scars. All in the same spots. It wouldn’t matter to Texas to gain one, even if it’d been on her face. She wasn't out to win any beauty contests, she cared very little what she looked like. As those pieces of clothing were lit on fire, the woman stared for a moment at it, then brought pale eyes up to him once again. “I liked that bra.” Asshole. But, there were more important things. Like showers. “There’s nothing going on with me.” Standing up, she’d turn the shower back on before shedding the rest of her clothes and stepping in. Oh, that felt nice. For a few seconds, she just stood there, enjoying the warm water. Then, turning her head away from the spray, she spoke again. “Why don’t we talk about what’s going on with you?” She had assumed, of course, that he’d stuck around in the bathroom. *** “I liked that t-shirt,” Harry replied, then he let her strip, took those too, and stepped back into the main room to gather the other two pieces of clothes. Harry stared forlornly at his t-shirt when he picked it up, but then he just sighed and like the rest, all of it was burned to ash and dust on the bathroom floor. “Between the two of us,” he said, as he dusted up the remnants from the tiled floor, “You’re the one being crazy today.” No, no he didn’t want to talk about himself because he was perfectly fine. He’d done a shitty thing but he’d get over it. Hell, he was still functioning, wasn’t he? Harry brushed his hands off on his trousers when he was finished, “Finish your shower, I’ll make something to eat.” Unfortunately Harry’s idea of food was every bachelor’s main cuisine; bread and whatever he had in the icebox to go between it, slap some mayonnaise on it and it was instantly edible. They’d both eaten worse. For a while, Harry’s breakfast had consisted of Coke and some Cheerios. His life was the epitome of pathetic sometimes. Harry left the Spartan to go putz around the kitchen instead. Mouse settled for sitting squarely in the doorway to the bedroom, so he could keep his eyes on both Harry and Texas at the same time. *** This would be the first (and hopefully the last) time Harry Dresden made the mistake of calling Agent Texas ‘Crazy’. She pushed back the curtain of the shower and those pale eyes snapped immediately onto the wizard in the bathroom. Now, the woman had looked angry before, sure.. But nothing like this. She looked far more insane than she ever had. “Call me crazy again.” It was a warning more than anything else. A threat might be a better word. Not a challenge. Tex was not crazy, she’d been through a lot to get where she was, there had been a lot of hands that had touched her, a lot of people who’d done unspeakable things to her. And they’d called her crazy. She was not crazy. Once the woman was sure Harry got the hint, she jerked the curtain closed again and finished up her shower. Inevitably, she appeared near Mouse, wrapped in one of Harry’s towels, watching the huge animal warily. She wasn’t going to step over him. “Shoo.” She told the beast. *** Okay, Loonytunes, calm down. Mouse stared back at Texas with intent and for the first time in their short acquaintance actually bothered listening to her. He heaved his massive weight up off the floor and trekked merrily into the kitchen after Harry. Evidently happier both of his humans were in the same space and therefore more easily looked after, the dog went back to being a regular dog and nosed around the kitchen for scraps. Harry looked at him, fed him a slice of bread, then finally looked at Texas when she appeared several steps behind Mouse. The dog wagged his tail and plopped down to continue watching Harry’s movements as if he might accidentally drop the remaining loaf of bread into the dog’s mouth. Stupid dog. “Feel better?” Harry asked, ignoring Mouse. Mouse was patient. *** Did she feel better? A bit of that too-long blonde hair was pushed back over her shoulder, damp and clinging. The towel was secured a bit better around her torso and the Spartan let out a soft breath. “Yeah.” She did feel better. And she lingered there in the mouth of the kitchen awkwardly, just watching the giant and his terrible attempt at making them something to eat. Oh well, they’d both had much worse. Harry was lucky he wasn't sleeping with someone who had refined tastes. Nothing about Tex was refined. But she was watching him. It was a little strange, actually, the way her eyes lingered on his face, like she wanted to say something, or do something, but she simply hadn’t spurred her body into action yet. The tall woman often had issues like this, where she thought about something for far too long. Petting Mouse was one of those things she had to really psyche herself up to do. It didn’t happen often and when it did, it was awkward. This looked a little like one of those moments. Maybe she wanted to pet Harry. *** “Okay,” Harry said, staring back at her while she awkwardly tried to figure out what she wanted to do. Harry’s eyebrows slowly climbed their way up his forehead while he watched her, waiting for the woman to make her move. She didn’t. She looked uncertain, and seeing a Spartan as determined as her look unsure about herself was always just a little strange. “Texas?” Harry prompted, “Are you alright?” Maybe he’d hit her harder than he imagined. Nah, he’d seen her do this before. He just didn’t know what she was hesitating about. Harry was oblivious. *** When he called her out on it, she turned away and headed out of the kitchen, towards her bedroom. Shit. Fuck. Whatever. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Came the words just before she disappeared into her own room. She never closed the door, it wasn’t like Tex cared anything for privacy. She’d never had a moment of privacy in her entire life, there wasn’t any need for it. The towel was dropped and clothes were found, black pants and a black tank. Almost everything she had was black, but somehow it suited her the same way colorful things seemed to suit York and leather fit perfectly on the Wizard. Once dressed, Tex sat down on the edge of her bed to pull on some boots, but remained there, just sitting, her elbows falling to her thighs once again and her hands dropping between her knees. If left alone, she would inevitably come out in the next ten minutes. If not? Well, she’d be sitting right there like that when he showed up in her doorway. In either case, the first words of greeting Harry would get would be: “You didn’t answer me.” *** Yeah, she was fine. Sure. And Harry was the Easter Bunny. He let her go. Harry knew enough to know when someone didn’t want to talk, so he let Texas wander off and do whatever she was doing inside her bedroom. In the meantime, he finished making some pathetic sandwiches, left one on the counter for her, then sat down at the table and promptly shared his sandwich and a can of Coke with Mouse. Yeah, the dog drank the soda. Weird, right? His puppyhood had been under the roof of a wizard. Deal with it. So when Texas came back out, Harry was in the middle of pouring another dollop of Soda into a bowl on the floor for the dog, he paused, looked at her and sat upright, sliding the can across the table a little so it wouldn’t fall over. “About what?” *** Coming further into the room, Tex would take note of the sandwich there and snag it off the counter before making her way over to the couch and taking up a spot there, ensuring she didn’t cross Mouse’s path. One foot propped up on the coffee table a she took her first bite. Eh. It wasn’t that bad. After swallowing, she finally continued on. “If everyone was alright.” The boys. York. She assumed they were, but.. Well. The last three minutes were sort of a blur for the Spartan, it was how she knew she needed to ask if people were okay. If she could recall what happened, she knew everyone would be alright, because she’d pull her punches just enough. It was when there was a hole in her memory that she had to be a bit concerned. She didn’t look at Harry as she asked. She didn’t want to seem too concerned. *** Had she asked- Harry thought back over the last half hour. Yeah, yep, she sure did ask if everyone was alright, before he tried to start an argument with her over nothing. “Yeah,” he said, frowning, “They’re fine. York’s probably got some bruises, but when you poke a rabid dog in the eye you probably deserve to get bit.” Oh whoops, he wasn’t supposed to call her crazy. Oh well. Harry wasn’t exactly self preserving. He turned to look at her fully, his eyes assessing as they traveled over her face. He’d seen the AI appear the same way Delta usually did. Still creepy. That bastard Omega was a blood thirsty asshole who would probably get along really, really well with Harry’s subconscious. Harry’s subconscious was an asshole who dressed in more black than Texas did; Harry knew, because he’d met him a few times. Manipulative prick. “What was that about anyway? Charging off to those kids like that.” He paused, his eyes moving around the room to land on the tablet--hers--that he’d fried earlier. Whoops. “Uh, I’ll replace that.” He jerked his chin in that direction. *** But calling her a rabid dog didn’t do anything but cause the Spartan to roll her eyes. It was the word. Crazy. That was the word that did it. He should be glad he hadn’t called her that in the middle of their little scuffle. Calling her that in the middle of a fight was a death sentence. A handful of other Freelancers knew that well enough. She wasn’t crazy. “It doesn’t matter.” The tablet, that was. She could go down and get another one any time she wanted. It wasn’t as if they were in short supply. Taking bites of the food (could it be called that?) between speaking, she had a longer time to think about what she said before she said it. It still didn’t help. “Ed was scared. He is scared. He shouldn’t have to be.” And she had been trying to help him take back the power and the confidence that he’d lost to that brief kidnapping. What was she supposed to do? Just watch the guy suffer? “He doesn’t have to be.” Not if she could help. *** “Yeah,” Harry agreed, “Rightfully so,” he nodded his head. Nothing she said was inherently wrong. Not even the idea Ed didn’t have to be afraid. Harry stood up and stretched. “He went through a life threatening ordeal, where he was left helpless and afraid, and alone. He probably thought no one was going to come for him and that he was going to die there.” Harry laid out the facts, well the assumptions, clearly, folding his arms across his chest as he did so. “Regardless, I don’t know what you thought you were doing, but that definitely isn’t how you help scared children not be afraid anymore. That’s how you fuck them up. That’s how you turn them into us. You want him to not be afraid anymore? To not question himself? Then you let him deal with the thoughts on his own and you let him take back what he lost when he’s ready to do it. You don’t force him outside on the premise you crush what tries to hurt you.” Harry and Texas were more alike than maybe either of them imagined. Because going out and crushing what hurt Harry was exactly the answer to everything he did. It had nothing to do with reclaiming what was taken from him though, it was usually pure rage that drove him. And because of that, Harry was the kind of guy that could murder someone in cold blood these days and hate himself afterward. *** It was pure rage that drove Texas, too. She didn’t hate herself after she murdered people. “He’s not a child. If you keep treating him like one, he’ll keep acting like one. He’s long past the age he should be doing things like this on his own. Both of them are. And they cling to one another like--” Like North and South. Fuck. Chilly eyes turned away briefly before they came back. “He should have the chance to hurt the people who hurt him.” That was her honest opinion and her wish for Ed, to be able to visit harm upon the people who had done that to him. Everyone should be allowed that chance. *** “He is a child, Texas. To you, sixteen is a man, by the time you reach that age you’ve lived most of your life. But he hasn’t even finished going through puberty yet. He isn’t you. He isn’t me. He’s not York. He’s Ed, and Ed’s still a kid in every way that matters. He’s been through awful shit, it doesn’t mean he has to grow up before he’s ready. Let him take shelter for a while, for fuck’s sake. Let him believe there’s people out there that care about him, who will help him when he needs it, because it’ll give him have half a chance at a god damned normal life.” Because Ed had Al, and so long as Ed truly believed he was loved, he would hold onto his humanity and he would do the right things. He wouldn’t let the ugliness that lived inside him take control. He would be okay. And he would be surrounded by people that could support him along the way. Wasn’t Alphonse a testament to that idea? “They’re good kids, Tex, they’re strong. There’s nothing wrong with letting them keep their heart and soul intact.” When you murdered someone it took a little piece of you each time you did it. Until there was nothing left. Ed didn’t need that. *** “But there isn’t anyone out there who cares about him. No one’s going to help him. And the more he cares about other people, the worse it’s going to get for him. He needs to sever ties with his brother, he needs to cut him out of his life if he wants anything good for him. They’re just going to tear one another apart, or someone else is going to do it for them. All they can do is hurt one another.” Pushing up to her feet, the Spartan headed for the kitchen, shaking her head as she went. The empty plate was dumped into the garbage (yay for Bachelors and paper plates!) and the blonde glanced back over her shoulder at the wizard sitting at the table. “If he’s ever going to be strong, and stop being scared, he can’t think with his heart or his soul or any of that useless crap.” Though the way she said it? That word? It didn’t sound so useless. Though she calmed a few seconds later and let out a breath. “The two of them..” It was seeing the brothers together, the bond they had, the love there, that had gotten her thinking on it all. The way Ed thought it was just something that should be given to him. “You’re setting them up to be ruined, Harry, not give them a normal life. You’re hurting them.” Because when you loved people, you got hurt, it was just the nature of the beast. Who ever thought Texas could feel something that deep? Really? *** “You’re wrong,” Harry said. He looked down at his chest, his arms folded across it, then he sighed and said, “Pain’s for the living, only the dead don’t feel it. You take away his heart… and believe me, Texas, his brother is his heart, you might as well put a gun to his head and pull the trigger now because he’ll already be dead. You can’t escape pain.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting her pale set with quiet, calm resolve. “Pain tells us we’re alive, Texas, it teaches us, it changes us, it leaves its mark.” He furrowed his brows. “Being hurt isn’t the worst thing in the world, you come out stronger for it. One day he’ll get to an age and realize there’s more flavors of pain than there is candy. But he’ll grow, and he’ll be alright. Both of them will.” Harry lowered his arms and stepped closer to Texas, looking at her with a strange expression. “You like to think you’re heartless, but you’re not. You know how I know? You went out there on the need to protect a little boy from a world that tried to hurt him. You set aside concern for yourself so you could go out there and help him bear his burdens. Tell me you don’t feel.” Harry shook his head slightly. *** Well. Fuck. Fuck you, Harry Dresden. And fuck your stupid face. You had stupid hair, too. Stupid. Stupid idiot. Fuck. “Blow me.” Came her snappish retort. “Cockbite.” It was a muttered insult that followed, the tall woman turning away, only to find that the kitchen didn’t have a second exit. It wasn’t an alley. She was trapped there and Harry was standing in the way. And his killer attack mammoth was sitting a few feet behind him, stupid fluffy tail thumping as he looked on with that ridiculous giant head tilted in a stupid way. They were both stupid. Her arms crossed over her chest and she did her best to just stare at Harry and convey all of those thoughts. He was stupid. So was his stupid dog. In fact, she’d just glare at him until he went away. There wasn’t anything else to say. Look at that, Harry had managed to shut the Freelancer up. Someone needed to mark this down on the calendar. *** Harry stared back. He didn’t posture, he didn’t cower, he didn’t do anything other than stand there and look at her while she tried to process and convey all of the thoughts roiling around inside her mind. He didn’t do anything. And only after several moments of total inaction and the silence between them, did the wizard nod vaguely and turn away. He took hold of Mouse’s leash where it hung on the kitchen wall, prompting the dog to rise and come near, so he could clip it on his collar. Properly secured, Harry looked back at Texas and offered a faint smile. “We’ll be back in a couple hours,” so she wouldn’t worry. And then he left with the dog. She wanted to be alone. That was fine. Harry wanted to be alone with his thoughts, too. *** “Hey.” She said as the wizard got to the door, lifting her chin a little. “Pick up dinner.” There was a pause before the blonde continued. “And find something you like at that little shop near Starlin’s.” Her orders were simple, and Tex was turning and moving out of his line of sight. Shit. The little shop near Starlin’s. Harry wouldn’t have any idea what she was talking about. Until he headed by that way and saw it. Was it a trap? Maybe. Even though she’d sounded serious. Maybe that meant it was definitely a trap. Because it hadn’t been a tease or a joke... had it? The little shop near Starlin’s. The place where all the, ah.. dancers got their clothes, where Riza Hawkeye had needed to purchase new underwear. Underthings. None of them anything like the Freelancer’s standard issue military sports bra and underwear. It was a present, Harry. She was trying to be nice. And there were all sorts of things that would turn the poor wizard red upon glancing in the window. Really, she doubted he’d make it in the door, but it was the thought that counted, right? |