Harry Dresden (i_wizard) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2011-08-02 23:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry dresden, river tam |
Wizard meets Reader (Harry & River - continued in comments)
Taking his dog for a walk, Harry decided, was a nice, normal activity. He needed normal right now. After that adventure at Arkham, he didn't want to think about the repercussions, about the Joker's fate, or about the fragile mind of the boy they had fought to recover. He wasn't home safe yet, not by any means, but the part Harry could help with was over. The rest would have to be between Jake and Dinah.
Murphy wasn't around when he got up. After a quick lunch of Spagettios and a sandwich, Harry found Mouse waiting at the front door, lead in his mouth. "Alright," Harry said, letting himself laugh. "Wherever you want to go, Dogzilla."
Alright, maybe he wasn't taking Mouse for a walk as much as Mouse was taking him for a walk.
They ended up at the park. It had been a while since Harry had been there, but he found a tennis ball in his pocket and tossed it for Mouse. The big dog went after it, and it seemed like it would be a nice, normal day after all.
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River always liked the park. Always.
In the park, she'd met Hannibal. That thought alone made her smile. She'd met John Coffey, who'd done so much for her. She sat on a swing, today, legs out in front of her under a thin crimson skirt, boots kicking up sand when she swayed slightly back and forth.
River understood what she'd done. She didn't understand why, and that concerned her. Ivy'd influenced her, but she didn't understand how, didn't understand why she'd become so mad with the man she'd killed, didn't understand...
She knew that eventually, and sooner rather than later, someone from the City would come and arrest her. Or call her in for questioning. Find her responsible. And what would she do, then? Her past would surely come up.
They would lock her away. And Simon wouldn't know. Hannibal might be able to help her, but this was a lot for even Hannibal to stop.
She wasn't sure she felt remorse. That did not concern her; what did was the changes that were about to happen in her life, and that she must make them without Simon there. Without anyone like Mal, even, to guide her. She loved Hannibal, and he loved her... but he was not a figure she would look to for all guidance. He was not her entire world.
She would worry about a lawyer later, if it came to that, she decided. Worry about all that then. For now, she sat on the swing, moving back and forth, twisting the chains together.
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Harry tossed the tennis ball, and this time, Mouse didn't catch it on the first bounce. The Foo dog seemed distracted for an instant, and let the ball go past him. The big dog then wagged his tail at Harry, and bounded off after the tennis ball. When he got close, he batted it further with a paw, then chased after it again.
The wizard shook his head. "Why do I bother?" he wondered out loud, grumbling as he walked to follow the dog. "He always does what he wants anyway."
Mouse saw Harry starting to follow, picked the ball up in his mouth, and trotted over to the swings. He sat down just out of reach of the girl sitting at them, and dropped the ball. With his nose, he pushed it towards her and let out a friendly bark, wagging his tail.
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River smiled at the dog, very slightly. She was still very much in her head. But she bent down and picked the ball up, greeting the dog in Mandarin.
She threw the ball, looking past the dog to the man that clearly was his owner. River sat straighter and put a slender hand around each of the swing's chains.
There was something very different about him. Not like Ivy, but...
River arched an eyebrow, warily. Her last encounter with a stranger that seemed... more than, and different... had not gone so well.
"Hello," she said.
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The ball went, and off went Mouse, moving like a grey bullet... or maybe like a wrecking ball. Harry watched him go and catch up to the ball, then turned and gave the girl a light smile. "Hi," he said. "If my dog likes you, you must be okay. He's a better judge of character than I am." Hell's bells, what didn't Mouse do better than him? He was certainly more sociable.
Harry could see the wariness in her eyes, and kept his movements slow. Letting his staff fall from his right hand into the gloved left, Harry extended a hand to her. "My name's Harry. Dogzilla over there is Mouse." The Dogzilla in question came trotting back, wagging his tail at Harry before dropping the ball back at River's feet. He barked again and sat down, waiting for her to throw the ball for him again.
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River smiled, then.
His thoughts were nice. They were not confusing. He loved the dog. River hoped that the love of the dog was not like Ivy's love of plants, but doubted most people would have that level of obsession with something.
Carefully, River shook his hand. Harry. She was too distracted by her thoughts to dissect it. Harry was interesting, on the inside of his head. Harry was very powerful. Different from the way other people were, definitely. There were wounds in there. They were dark, and from things River did not understand entirely.
"River," she said. "Mouse doesn't seem like a fitting name for a freight train." She let go of Harry and picked the ball up, smiling again at the dog, and threw the ball.
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The tingle of her touch when Harry's hand met hers nearly had the hairs on his arm standing on end. Surprised by the talent she possessed, Harry nearly missed her name, but he caught up quickly. "Well, when he first came home with me," Harry explained, "He fit in my coat pocket, and he was quiet and grey." He shrugged. "I didn't know he was part woolly mammoth at the time, but he seems to like the name."
Mouse had never objected to it, anyway. And considering how effectively the dog could object when he wanted to, it seemed a reasonable deduction.
Mouse took off after the ball again, clearly enjoying himself. This time, he caught up to it on a bounce, balanced carefully on his back paws for an instant, and caught it neatly. As he came trotting back, he dropped the ball for River once more, but sat closer this time, leaning in to sniff her. His warm brown eyes stared up at her hopefully.
"Good grief, do you know how to work the adorable puppy thing," Harry said, though he was chuckling. He stepped around the dog and gestured to the swing beside River. "May I?"
The girl wasn't a wizard, but that tingle --hell, that jolt -- of power was something he hadn't experienced before. He didn't know what it was, but something about the girl reminded him of Molly.
Maybe it was the boots. Molly would have liked the boot-and-skirt combination.
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River grinned at the dog. They'd never had a dog, growing up. The Tam estate was a place for studying and, overall, order. Gabriel Tam had not caved to his son and daughter's pleas for a puppy.
She reached a hand out and patted Mouse's head, watching his reaction. Mouse seemed happy with it.
She nodded at Harry. He could sit.
"There aren't enough colors in my hair for that," River said, as though she were continuing a conversation. She looked at Harry, eyes very innocent and honest. "Or enough light."
She could see Molly perfectly in his mind, a very clear picture. Molly was physically like River, yes, but there were large differences. Like the hair. And the lights.
She had not even realized that she'd pulled that out of his head. That was rude, that was something people didn't like. But River'd never been able to control that, completely. Her damaged mind wouldn't allow it.
Her face changed. She looked very sorry for what she'd said.
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Harry's eyebrows shot up when she mentioned the hair. And the light. He could all too clearly remember the one-woman-rave Molly Carpenter had turned the battle at Chichén Itzá into. Light and sound and illusions enough to stop a horde of Red Court vampires in their tracks.
Well. Seemed like he wouldn't have to dig that hard to learn what River's talent was.
His own expression softened when Harry saw the look on her face. He knew that look. Harry took a breath and let it out slowly. "I was just thinking about a friend," he said, his tone even. A touch curious. "Do you know what her name is?"
He didn't call it back to mind, instead trying to bury the thought of Molly under a hundred other faces he'd seen throughout the years. It was a gentle one, but still a test.
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She kept petting Mouse, who seemed quite happy with that absent-minded decision.
"You have several for her," River said. The tone of her delivery suggested that he knew that and it was a trick question.
When Harry tried to bury her, it didn't much matter, because she was still there. There were so many other people in his head that she became difficult to see, but she was still there.
"Molly," River said. "You call her Grasshopper."
River kicked her boots together slightly, dust floating upward from her feet.
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There was no need to nod. River knew she was right, and so did Harry. he let out the breath he hadn't been aware of holding, and rubbed his chin, thinking. "That's... a very strong ability you have, River," he said. "Molly had a talent like that too, but she knew magic. Like me."
He watched her closely, looking for a reaction to that, but he continued regardless. "Molly was young, and she didn't always know how to control her power. Sometimes it got away from her. It got her in a lot of trouble once." Or twice. Third times the charm? Oh, how was his wayward apprentice handling herself without him?
"I don't mean to pry," he went on, "but my dog likes you. And from the way you looked at me, I'm guessing it got away from you right there. Are you in trouble, River?"
Mouse liked her. He was in puppy bliss, getting petted. And Harry hated to see a woman in trouble. Murphy called him a Neanderthal for it, but Harry considered it chivalry. Whatever the term, he couldn't stand seeing girls in trouble. The impulse to help was already pushing at him.
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Magic did not exist. That was all there was. Everything could be explained, rationally. River did not react, at all. What Harry said was what he believed. Book had tried to teach her all about faith and what it meant. River at least respected his beliefs but did not share them. She could not believe what Harry said, but knew he did, and therefore respected it unflinchingly.
My dog likes you...
River smiled broadly. She liked Mouse, too. It was hard not to.
Are you in trouble, River?
Her eyes darkened and so did her expression. She thought of the Academy, of the doctors that harmed her, of ruining Simon's life, of the trouble she'd caused the crew, of Jubal Early and the Operative. And then she answered truthfully.
"Constantly."
A beat went by. "You mean more than normal." Her head dropped forward slightly, hair falling into her face. "Yes."
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No reaction to the mention of magic. At least she didn't call him a liar to his face, the way most people did. No reaction was better than a bad reaction, but it was still a little surprising.
Harry didn't like the way her expression changed. It hinted at hurt and pain that had never had a chance to heal. And from her words, it never would.
"How can I help?" The words were automatic. She was in trouble, so Harry would help her. "Is it because of your ability?"
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"It's complicated."
She was unused to people wanting to help her, not knowing her. Was that how people were, here? Hannibal, John Coffey, and now Harry?
River began gently moving the swing back and forth again, timing her petting of Mouse with the movement of her legs, never moving more than a few inches.
"I can't explain what happened to me," she said. And she could not. No one really knew what the Academy had done to her. "I used to be capable. And whole. And not problematic." River swallowed. "When I got here, a man named John Coffey healed me. What he could heal. He said there were parts that... that he couldn't get, that would always be wrong."
She liked some of those parts. In many ways she was now MORE capable than she'd been before the Academy. Before being bitten herself, River had taken down a horde of zombies and saved Indiana Jones's life. River could never have done that if the Academy had not made her into a weapon.
"It used to be hard to talk," she said. "Now it's hard not to feel."
River let the silence hang there. She did not know Harry and he could, technically, take her to someone who'd make her answer for poor Rick's death. "I met a woman. We talked, a lot about plants. She had.... she made me feel... like I couldn't think. And on my way home..."
Her voice was almost monotone, emotionless. If she were talking to Hannibal, to someone who fed on her darkness, she would be much more animated, and silently she became aware of that.
"I didn't mean to kill anyone."
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I didn't mean to kill anyone. The words sent a shiver through Harry, and he looked away for a moment, licking at his lips. "Not many people mean to," Harry said. "I never meant it -- never wanted it, maybe that's a better way to say it. But it's not something that should be easy to walk away from."
He looked back at River, watching her face, though careful not to meet her eyes. He would have to, sooner or later, but right now wasn't the time for a soulgaze. Not yet. He wouldn't do that to her without first preparing her for the consequences.
"Molly was a talented young woman, seventeen years old. She had a gift for mind magic. It's a sensitive area, and so dangerous that the Laws of Magic outright forbid it. She didn't know that at the time, and she used her power to help two of her friends stay away from drugs. She altered their minds so that the drugs would scare them, and to lessen their addiction. She tried to help, but no mind can tolerate that kind of force. It fights back. The battle left them scarred, emotionally and mentally, so badly that one of them may never recover from it." Harry had seen the damage himself, Seen it with his Wizard's Sight. The memories came back now, as fresh as they had been when he'd first opened his Eye on them. With an effort, he pushed them away again.
"I can't heal you, River," Harry said. "That's not my gift. But I can help you control yourself. I can help you understand your emotions, to block off the ones that aren't right and to channel the others into something you can use. I can help you learn not just how to use your power, but when, and why. If that's what you'd like to learn, I will do everything I can to teach you."
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Seventeen seemed a long, long time ago. River had arrived in the City years ago at 19. Stopping to think about it, she did not feel as old as she was. At all.
"Teach me?" Her eyebrows rose.
River pushed her dark hair back behind her ears and evaluated the merits of this. "That's... Xièxiè.*" She sighed, and the sigh moved through her thin frame.
She looked at Harry then, really looked at him, dark eyes very focused. "I don't want to hurt you. The things that... happened to me... I'm boo-tai jung-tzahng-duh*." River was searching his face for understanding. She thought about what she wanted to say, about what she knew, what Simon had told her about what happened to her.
"They tried to turn me into a weapon. Sometimes I just go off." River smiled very, very slightly. "I don't want to hurt you."
* Thank you
not entirely sane
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Harry didn't understand the words, but he caught the meaning. At her reasoning, he simply raised an eyebrow.
"Mouse," he said, his tone one of command. The dog immediately turned away from River, giving the girl one last lick to her hand, and faced his master. After a moment, a faint blue nimbus began to sparkle around the animal. He let out a low growl that seemed to make the earth tremble under their swings.
Harry never even looked at the dog. He kept watching River, though he brought up his left hand. It held his staff and was still bound in a black leather glove, but he shook a bracelet braided with silver, copper, and other fine metals from under the sleeve of his duster. There were disks of metal dangling from the bracelet, shaped like medieval shields. Harry directed his will into the bracelet, forming a half-dome of solid energy. He normally gave it some kind of blue tint, but this time, the shield was left intentionally invisible.
The dog lunged, teeth bared. Mouse struck the shield and rebounded in a flash of silvery-blue light. He lunged again, moving like a predator, all speed and grace for all his girth. Harry shifted the shield, and the dog struck it again, unable to get past it to the wizard. After two more strikes, with the same effect, Harry lowered his arm, dropping the shield. "Miss River, I'm quite used to danger. I know--"
His words were cut off as Mouse attacked, once more, without warning. The blue glow radiated from the animal, and Harry slid from his swing, moving the thick wooden staff across his body to intercept the canine's powerful jaws. His shield was back up in a heartbeat, and ready when the dog slipped past the staff and went for him again. With another effort of will, Harry muttered a spell. "Ventas servitas!"
A gust of wind came from nowhere, strong enough to push the enormous dog away from him while hardly ruffling River's hair. Sand and soil kicked up instead, and Mouse ended up a bit dusty and dirty. The dog backed down, wagging his tail now and tilting his head aside.
Harry laughed. "Alright, good one. I wasn't expecting that." The dog wagged his tail again, and moved towards Harry. The wizard petted him for a moment, then looked back to the girl. "I know how to defend myself," he said, his tone confident. "I don't want to get hurt. And as nice as he looks, Mouse won't let you hurt me, either. But he also won't let me hurt you. He's sort of an equal-opportunity defender like that."
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River didn't really understand what was happening. One minute, Mouse was sitting at her feet happy. The next, he was glowing blue. And Harry was... Harry was....
She'd spend days after this incident constructing logical explanations for what she'd seen, using every scientific principle she could think of. She'd fill pages with equations and theories, and drawings.
"If... if you want to help I accept your help." It was his life. If he wanted to end it... or frustrate himself because she was not sure much could be done to help her...
There would have to be rules, of course. They weren't rules that would make sense unless they'd seen what River had done in her past...
"At the library," River said, "there are display cases. They hold things about us, about people that arrived in the City and aren't from here. I saw them the last time I was there. There's a recording that explains what happened to me. I would tell you but it doesn't come out properly. And I change when I talk about it."
She patted Mouse's head again.
"My brother would've explained it best."
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Harry perked up, hearing about the display cases at the library. "Huh," he said, musing. "So I guess that really was Sue I saw there, wasn't it?" That brought a warm feeling, knowing that the faithful dinosaur he'd raised was back together, and even sharing the City with him. You just never knew when a sixty-five million year old zombie tyrannosaur could be useful.
"If you're alright with me taking a look, then I'll go by there first thing tomorrow." He reached into his duster and withdrew one of his business cards, passing it to her. "You can call me anytime. I have an answering service, and that's my home number on the back. I've got one of those cell-phone things like everyone else, but it only works one day in every five." He tapped his fingers against the staff for a moment, thinking. "Is your brother here? Should I keep an eye out for him?"
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"Sue?"
River was making an effort not to pluck things out of Harry's brain, but the phrase 'zombie tyrannosaur' came anyway, and she made a face.
"I think it is imperative that you take a look," she answered, taking the card.
Is your brother here? Should I keep an eye out for him?
She shook her head. "He's not here," River said. "Not anymore. He was a doctor at the hospital. He'd have been a big help, explaining things."
He could talk to Hannibal, maybe.
"I'll understand if you change your mind about this," she added quickly.
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"Sue. I needed help when some necromancers came to town, and she was it." In his mind, he could see her again. Sue, in all her prehistoric glory, casually swatting aside human-shaped zombies with a flick of her tail. He gently pushed that image towards the girl, wondering vaguely if she would understand the significance of it.
The sincerity in her voice sobered him. Harry nodded. "I will," he said. "I promise. I'm sorry your brother is gone, but I don't think I'm going to back down, River. I'd like to help you if I can." He drew in a breath, hesitated, and then said the thing that was going to make or break this arrangement. "You might have heard the expression 'the eyes are the windows to the soul'. For someone like me, it's a bit more literal. If I look in your eyes, and you look back in mine, we'll experience something called a soulgaze. I'll see you, for who and what you truly are. It will tell me if I can help you, and if I should. But windows work both ways, and you'll see things about me that... well, things that I don't like to talk about any more than what I expect I'll see on these recordings. But in order for us to know each other, I'd like to try."
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"We could have used Sue, a little while ago."
She waited a beat. "Don't ask."
Harry reminded River of a cross between Book, Mal and Simon. He had no reason to want to help her, except that she was in need. He had belief, belief River did not share. He had that air of taking care of people because.... you're part of the crew. Why we still talkin' 'bout this? He had Simon's authority, and, she hoped, wisdom. But she was not sure it was the right wisdom.
Simon tried everything he knew and it exhausted him. She didn't want to do that to someone else, to anyone else. It was why she and Hannibal were as they were--respectfully distant, accepting of each other. Neither pushed. Both just cared, found each other to be kindred. River did not want to ruin anyone else's life.
... windows to the soul...
"It's an interesting concept," River acknowledged. "It's not scientifically sound." Her head tilted as if she heard something no one else did, and her eyes became more vacant, thinking of abstract concepts. What he called a soul, River simply called energy. The body died, the person stopped. She did not believe in more than that.
It would tell him if he could help her. River considered that. She did want help. This would be more than... she'd ever shown anyone, really, except perhaps Lestat.
"Okay."
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Harry had to smile. "Some of what I can do is grounded in science," he explained, "but not all of it. Still, it's a lot of math and physics, and I only have a GED."
With her consent, Harry nodded. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to ground himself, to clear everything from his mind but this moment. He felt his heartbeat slow and stabilize, heard the whisper of wind as it moved through the grass, smelled the crisp air and the heavy scent of Mouse among the light scent of River.
When he opened his eyes again, he found hers, and waited. It was barely a moment before the soulgaze began.
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River didn't know how this was supposed to work, only knew what Harry thought about it and how he thought it should work. Operating on those things, she did what he did, followed what he did.... even so far as clearing her mind when she realized he was doing that.
She looked Harry in the eye, Mouse forgotten for the moment, as well as poor dead Rick, and Ivy, and worry of what she was going to do. The only thing she had to do was this, and the only thing she had to understand was the person in front of her.
The swings and the City fell away.
Harry fell away... well, mostly.
What River saw was Harry, but it wasn't Harry.
He stood perhaps ten feet from her, and he wore armor. It looked thick, but it was clear, and River could see that it was ice. He had silver around his neck, a pentacle, and it seemed to glow like it was on fire, even though it remained silver. His face was bruised, and it looked like what wasn't covered in armor was bruised, too. The bruises were dark and fresh, and looked painful. It looked to River like one eye did not open all the way anymore, but was puffy and so hurt it had to remain shut. Behind him there was another Harry, without armor, a Harry that was dressed nicely, but all in black. There were heavy chains on him, wrapped around him, and he looked volatile.
His appearance was startling, but River wasn't afraid of him.
You are mine, wizard.
There was nothing but a voice, but the voice held command and it held power, and it made River afraid.
To one side of both Harry's there was an altar, and near it a woman that... was not a woman. Vampire, but not in the way that Lestat was. Different. She was hurt, she was very hurt, and she was talking to Harry. River's perspective shifted. The woman spoke to her now as though she, River, was Harry. The hands River saw were not hers but also hers.
She'll be safe. I promise.
A kiss followed, and a name River understood to be Harry's daughter's name. She understood all of it, then, in a wave. And then there was a knife, and when Harry stabbed her, River felt the pain he'd felt.
Behind all of this, after that pain, there was very clearly a pretty face. Two, actually. Both were blond women, both were very, very strong. Look, there's just a vibe, okay? Maybe you're missing that extra X chromosome so you haven't picked up on it, but I don't exactly feel welcome at your place these days. River felt pulled much more strongly toward one, even though the other was important.
I trust you, and I love you, but she's my family.
River opened her eyes. And that pain she felt came out of her in a whimper.
She came close to falling off of the swing.
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What Harry saw in the girl's mind took his breath away. The stage that lit the scene was casual, like something out of a simple county fair, and within the girl danced. Her boots didn't mar the grace of her body, the fluid steps she took. She was grace incarnate, and life shone from her, radiating the stage from within. Her steps were carefree elegance, and they took her around the stage, deftly navigating the bits of litter crowded within. Things Harry couldn't recognize, but identified as some kind of space-age technology. Her hands dripped blood as she moved and twirled. A box seat hung in the right corner of the stage, and within were two men. One Harry recognized as the doctor who had come to his home - Simon Tam. The other, he didn't know. Between them, a chain link fence clashed with the red velvet decor of the box seat, keeping them away from one another while they gently applauded her performance.
A glass dome covered the stage entirely, as though it were a child's snow globe. Thick cracks rippled throughout the shell, some creating gaps that could never be filled. Others were thin, faint, like the shadows of fused bones in an x-ray. Some of those jagged edges were dripping with blood, others were held open by severed hands covered in blue surgical gloves. When her steps took her close to the chips, Harry could feel that life and light flowing from the girl more clearly - moreso, she seemed to glance his way at those moments, as though aware of the breaks and able to see out.
A mind that wanted peace, that had been torn apart savagely. Bloodstains that couldn't fade, gaps that couldn't heal. As Harry watched her dance, he could see it now - the graceful steps that could lead their own destructive dance. The way the gentle movements of tai chi were the same movements used in akido to grapple and strike opponents. He could see death in every turn, every shift of her hips; but there was also grace and life and the simple love of dancing. Blood still fell from her hands, staining the stage below, but her face shifted between peace and pain.
Harry 's vision blurred as he came back to himself. He blinked a few times, and one tear dislodged itself, spilling down his cheek before he could wipe it away. It was beautiful and terrifying. He wanted to protect her more than ever, to strike down at the people who had done this to her. But her quiet strength and grace had persevered throughout, and it would be an insult to coddle her so.
Instead, he would help her find that peace. She would always be deadly - it was too much a part of her to deny - but it could be controlled, called upon when needed. Until then, he could help her dance.
He saw River falter, and dove off his own perch to catch her. He didn't know what she had seen - Harry didn't look in mirrors much - but others had fainted after looking into him. He held the girl's shoulders, keeping her upright. For a moment, he couldn't speak. He wanted to make sure she was alright, to make certain nothing she'd seen had hurt her. But when he opened his mouth to ask, the words came out differently.
"I'll understand if you change your mind about this," he said, echoing her own words. "But I would love to see you dance. At peace."
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I'll understand if you change your mind about this.
"I'm fine," she said, in response to the question that he had not said aloud. Her eyebrows furrowed. Would she have been able to kill Simon, or Hannibal, if it was the right thing? She felt strange, like her veins were full of ice. But then River smiled.
It had to be Harry, if anyone was going to help her. John Coffey had healed the parts of her brain that the Alliance had broken. The physical parts. Simon had taught her how to try to move past it, and had done everything he could to move her past it. No, mei mei. It's time to wake up. Hannibal had shown her she was not as broken as she thought, and that she could still love people that were not family, and she could use what'd been done to her to her great advantage.
But none of them had another version of themselves hiding inside, in chains. Coffey had been truly gifted, but gentle and had no such thing like that to fear. Simon had tried to understand, tried valiantly, but couldn't. He could sympathize, he could shower River with love and it would never help. Hannibal made no attempt to keep that part, the dangerous part, on a leash. He embraced it.
It had to be Harry, or someone like him. River could only think of one such other person, and he was gone, now, long gone. Angel, the vampire.
"No." She shook her head, and squeezed one of his hands with hers. "I actually think you have a chance at helping me, now." She waited a beat.
"You okay? You cried."
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Harry smiled lightly, and met her eyes. He could do that now. Once they had shared a soulgaze, it wouldn't happen again. "You were beautiful," he said, his voice soft. "I saw you dancing, and even though there was pain, and hurt, it was calm and beautiful." His hands squeezed hers in return. "I think I can help you, too."
Mouse chose that moment to press his cold nose against their joined hands, and surprised Harry into laughing. He patted the dog before pushing the enormous muzzle aside. "Come by my office tomorrow," he said, standing up and giving her hands a gentle tug in offer to help her to her feet. "About four. We can get some food, and then we can go to my lab and get started. I'll have a few exercises ready for you to work on." His voice softened, grew serious. "It won't be easy. I'll have to provoke you sometimes. But it'll be necessary so you can learn control."
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River smiled.
She knew she was an excellent dancer, but it was still a nice thing to hear. He might've said the same if he'd seen her onstage at City Ballet. She'd only had one incident in her time there, and only one person had seen it. To everyone else, she was flawless.
River nodded. She could come by after rehearsal. She wasn't sure about this provoking thing, but they could see how that went. River wanted choice. Hannibal chose to be how he was. So did Simon. So did most people.
River didn't have a choice in her reactions, or her grabbing at people's minds. How she'd be, what she might do... she couldn't know that yet. She just wanted the choice.
"Do you want to know what I saw?" Her eyebrow arched. She already knew it was probably different than what other people saw. Or, more accurately, what other people felt.
"Do... do people feel things you felt? When they do that? It doesn't make sense that it should happen that way."
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Do you want to know what I saw?
Harry thought about that for a moment, and thought hard. No one had ever asked him before, and he had never asked. But given the reactions he'd seen, he had never wanted to know. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Thank you, but no. If you're comfortable with it, I can be too."
He tilted his head at her questions, though. And then shook his head. "Not that I remember. Sometimes I get feelings from someone else, but not often. Whispers and ghosts, but probably not the things they actually felt." His dark eyes became concerned, and he looked at her a bit more intently. "If... if you have questions about anything you saw, I'll do my best to answer them."