Though we have sparred, wrestled and raged, I can tell you I love him each day

[whateverthemess]

Someone's been avoiding the Conrad a little since her last journal entry. Just now, Ruvin's standing outside of a pet store. There are ferrets in one of the windows, piled on top of each other and fast asleep. The people on the street are starting to give her funny looks, but she still can't stop crying.

Cy found a pile of clothes out on the pier

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[thepizzalord]

Since arriving here, Harry has made a habit of visiting the coffee shop every other week, assuming it hasn't been blown up recently.

The barista gives him the customary dirty look, like he always gets when he comes in smelling of brimstone, but his usual concoction is already halfway prepared by the time he gets up to the counter, so all he has to do is scrape together enough spare change from the depths of his pockets.

He really, really needs to get his business up and running. Maybe he could give Descant a call? The other man's been here longer, maybe he has some tips on why the hell Harry's getting such a runaround. Maybe someone here just hates him. Not such a change from home, then.

He's a nickel short, and no amount of searching is turning one up. The glare from the other side of the counter intensifies, presumably because of the line being held up juuuust a tad, and Harry attempts a charming smile. "I.O.U.?" Well that's diplomatic.

[whateverthemess]

Auditory hallucinations. That's all she needs on top of everything else, today, this week, this month, this year. Murphy opens one eye to add her glare to the one from behind the counter and--

Shock. A paralyzed tingle starting somewhere between her chest and stomach and rolling out and up like her whole body fell asleep while her eyes were closed. It's kind of hard to breathe through the feeling.

No no no no, he's dead. He died years ago when the fucking White Court exploded--

Unless he didn't, unless he's been here the whole time--

And if she doesn't move, do, say, something he's going to walk out of here and she'll never know if it was him or not.

"Do you ever have exact change?"

...Figures those would be the first words out of her mouth.

[thepizzalord]

...

...huh. Well. That... that was unexpected. Still is, actually. How long has she been here? If it turns out she's been here for months, he's going to... well, do nothing, probably.

"Murphy!" He is genuinely delighted to see her, and has nothing at all to do with the fact that she is his friend. Presumably with money. "Got a nickel? I seem to be fresh out." He turns his duster pocket inside-out and gives her a pathetic begging look. Save me from the evil barista, officer!

[whateverthemess]

She does have a nickel. She might even give it to him, once she remembers how to breathe. "Harry Dresden, I'm going to fucking--"

'Kill you.' Right. End of that sentence, nooot so appropriate, given the situation. Options: vomit, remember how to breathe, stand up and punch Harry in the face--or rather, the stomach, as that is more easily accessible.

Option three. She can deal with option three. She will give you a nickel, Harry. The nickel of her fist.

[thepizzalord]

OW. This is what he gets for leaving his duster open. A punch in the gut. What did he do to deserve this? You know, besides the usual.

"Nice to see you too," he wheezes, a little wide-eyed. Maybe if he looks innocent she won't take out his kneecaps next. It was only a nickel!

The barista gives up and cashes him out, scooping all the loose change into the till and turning to the next customer. Harry hardly notices, more focused on the rather violent greeting he was not anticipating to have today.

He's only been gone for... what, a year? Ish? Maybe a year and a half. Um.

For once in his life, Harry doesn't really know what to say. Well, nothing that won't earn him another stomach punch, anyway. "I'm sorry?" It comes out a lot more bewildered than he was going for.

[whateverthemess]

"Sorry." It rasps out of her throat, totally incredulous. The small, sane part of her mind that she usually drops into during an adrenaline rush says she's not being fair. She informs it that this whole fucking week hasn't been fair and it's about time she had a turn. Murphy swings the easel case up over her shoulder and locks one hand around Harry's wrist.

"Walk with me, Dresden. Talk to me. Tell me what the fuck is going on here. Please."

It's not even remotely an invitation.

[thepizzalord]

Harry barely manages to successfully retrieve his coffee before being dragged out of the shop. He does not attempt to resist. First, because despite the rather epic gutpunch, he is beyond happy to see her. And second, because resisting Murphy is really, really stupid. It ends in things like pain, and Harry doesn't like pain. It's not his friend.

He's watching her more closely now, and there's that thing with her eyes that she does when she's nervous or upset. Something's not quite right here. Well, obviously. "How long have you been here?" he asks. It would be straightfaced serious if not for the part where he can't stop smiling at least a little. "I tried finding people I know, but they don't seem to exist here. Don't tell me I missed you completely."

[whateverthemess]

"Twelve days. The Prophet brought me here." God, she forgot how hard it is to keep pace with Harry on a good day. When she's tired and terse and the humidity is making her leg ache it's all she can do to keep up and keep hiding her limp. "You--"

She shakes her head, scanning the other side of the street instead of looking up at him. "You're dead. Back in Chicago. Back in our Chicago."

[thepizzalord]

That pretty much kills the smile, not to mention his forward momentum. "...oh." He's quiet for a minute. If the Council think he's dead, then...

He really doesn't want to know. But he has to ask. "Molly... we had the Doom of Damocles on us. Is she..." He won't say dead. Nor will he say executed. Or murdered.

And don't think he hasn't noticed the limping, either. His brain, freshly exposed to a zillion new movies, keeps coming up with worse and worse apocalypses that could have happened back home. Could be happening right now.

[whateverthemess]

"She's with the Ordo. I don't know where. None of us can contact her without risking the Wardens intercepting it." She flickers a tight smile at him. "All I know is that she's alive. Michael would have gone after the Senior Council himself if she wasn't."

Michael. There's so much she needs to tell Harry. Even more she's not sure he should know. "Thomas is fine, before you ask."

[thepizzalord]

There are very few words to describe Harry's relief. His first apprentice isn't dead. He didn't get her killed after all! He had no idea that he had been under such a heavy weight of doubt and guilt, but now that it's gone, it feels strange.

Molly is alive. And Thomas. Thomas is safe. Murphy is here. Not all is well, but nothing is urgent or disastrous so far as he knows.

So why is Murphy so upset?

"I've only been here..." He does some quick mental math. "Sixteen months?" Something like that, whatever. "What happened? Besides me being, you know, dead. Apparently." It's weird to even say that.

[whateverthemess]

"It's been three years since the explosion at the White Court, give or take." Time. It never runs like it's supposed to. That's the least of the past two weeks' surprises.

Murphy stops long enough to swing the easel case off her shoulder and expose the hilt of Fidelacchius. "I've been using this for at least two of those years."

Just the facts. It's like some sort of cracked-out debriefing from hell. "There were... things. The Denarians came back. God, Harry, it's been hell. Even stupidest, most willfully dense ignoramuses in the city are starting to wonder what the hell is going on around them. You died. We thought you died."

She can't get over that. He's standing right here, talking to her, and there neither one of them should be here at all. They should be in Chicago, their Chicago, making things right again. Murphy rests her back against the wall of the nearest building. "I guess we're both dead now."

[thepizzalord]

Harry is somewhat impressed at the fact that Murphy was apparently Knighted in his absence. Good on her, and he's glad that it isn't just gathering dust in his old apartment. Or stolen. Unholy creature that he is, it makes him glad to see that it's still out of the hands of the enemy

[whateverthemess]

She gives him a sharp look, catching the pause and the lie. He never was very good at keeping things from her and somehow it's comforting that hasn't changed. "So it's true there's no going back. You can't just... open up a hole. Make the rift go the other way."

Murphy doesn't think the Prophet is lying, exactly, but she needs to hear it from someone she trusts. "I thought it was an opening to the Nevernever. That's the only reason--" She sighs. "Not that staying put would have been better."