[week 27, day 7] [dream]
I knew that voice. It was a voice that had been with me almost all of my adult life. Young adult life. Both, really. I didn’t have to open my eyes or move an inch off the floor where I was sleeping to know it was Morgan. Donald Morgan, the guy who had haunted my dreams with the words, “The second you put one toe over that line, I’ll be there. I’ll be there to take your head off your shoulders.” Of course, things had
changed.
Now I couldn’t forget the words I’d heard from him after that knock on my apartment door such a short while ago. It had been, hadn’t it, even though it felt like forever? “The Wardens are coming. Hide me.” Yeah.
I didn’t bother to even open my eyes when I answered him. Yup, that’s me. No extra effort expended if I didn’t have to.
“Lying down on the job, what does it look like?” I heard what could have counted as a chuckle or a snort, then the sound of steel sliding into a sheath. I pushed myself up, folded my legs beneath me, and just looked at him.
It was Morgan not how I last remembered him, wounded leg covered in blood, face ashen, eyes dull, but with that proud smile of accomplishment on his face. Now, he didn’t look like the dying man I’d held in my arms in the halls of Edinburgh. He looked like I’d known him before all of that.
He stood before me in the gray cloak of a Warden, sword at his side, hair the same color as the blade of the magical weapon would be had
it been out of the sheath. Arms crossed over his wide chest, his eyes watched me with the same conviction, dedication, honor that I’d come to realize that he had. That was ingrained so deeply in him. And as I looked at that face I couldn’t help the flare of guilt and anger that rushed over me.
Guilt that I hadn’t noticed sooner. That I hadn’t been able to do anything for him in the end besides hold his hand, that I hadn’t noticed what was happening sooner, that I simply couldn’t do more. Deep down I knew it was stupid. I had done everything I possibly could have. In fact, I’d done far more than anyone would have figured. But it still gnawed at him. It always did. No matter how far down I showed that guilt, I could still feel it eating away at my insides one tiny little nibble at a time. The more I thought about it, the bigger it got. Just one step faster, one thought sooner, one tiny, little, itty bitty bit more and I might have made more of a difference. Guilt. It could leave you a hollow husk.
And anger? Anger for all of the people who had died in response to Peabody’s betrayal and Morgan’s supposed crime. The strain on my mentor’s face when he realized he’d been subtly manipulated, only he didn’t know how long or in what way. He didn’t deserve that, dammit. Not Ebenezer. It was that red hot kind of anger. The kind the burned in you and demanded revenge for all of the wrongs
that were committed. It gripped your soul, and it didn’t let go. Not until you did something, and something big. I wanted to make them pay like I’d never wanted to make anyone pay before. This being me, that was saying something.
“Get that guilt out of your eyes, Dresden, or I will make you regret it. Intensely.” His finger tapped the hilt of the sword he held at his hip.
“But…” I shut up when I saw the narrowing of his eyes and his fingers curl around said sword. You don’t screw with Wardens, dead or alive.
“You don’t have time for that, even if it were true, which it’s not. The bastard deserved it, and I was glad that I got to be the one to make him pay.”
I heard the silent “for Anastasia” that could have fit there too even if he didn’t say it. Being the smart guy that I am, I kept my mouth shut and let him continue.
“The council is likely in shambles. They’ve all got enough to worry about, and even if they didn’t, we both know they wouldn’t be able, or willing, to do much about it. You, however, can. Make use of your time here, Dresden. Get better so that you can go back and kick the damn traitors’ asses. You can walk that line. You always have, and you can do it now. Make them pay.”
I didn’t have to think about everyone who had been hurt because of the Black Council. I didn’t have to consider everyone who could be hurt in the future because of them. Hell, I didn’t even need to wonder who was getting hurt right now because of them. I just got to my feet, determination flowing from every damn inch of me, and gave Morgan a firm nod. The answer was just too obvious.
“When I’m done with them, all the king’s horses an all the king’s men won’t even begin to try to put them back together. You have my word.”
Morgan gave me a smile that some might have considered a touch sadistic. Me? I just thought it was appropriate. He held out his hand. This was the guy who would have loved to take my head from my shoulders without a second thought for goddamn years. This was also the guy who’d put his life on the line for someone he’d cared about and had, in the end, almost apologized to me. That… that I could respect. I grasped his hand firmly.
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[Harry’s eyes drifted open to the light of the sun floating through the windows and the words, “You do that,” dancing around in the back of his head. The slimmest trace of a smile darted across his face.]
Still can’t leave me alone even when he’s dead. Hell’s bells, Morgan, you’ve always been a stubborn guy with way too much time on your hands.
changed.
Now I couldn’t forget the words I’d heard from him after that knock on my apartment door such a short while ago. It had been, hadn’t it, even though it felt like forever? “The Wardens are coming. Hide me.” Yeah.
I didn’t bother to even open my eyes when I answered him. Yup, that’s me. No extra effort expended if I didn’t have to.
“Lying down on the job, what does it look like?” I heard what could have counted as a chuckle or a snort, then the sound of steel sliding into a sheath. I pushed myself up, folded my legs beneath me, and just looked at him.
It was Morgan not how I last remembered him, wounded leg covered in blood, face ashen, eyes dull, but with that proud smile of accomplishment on his face. Now, he didn’t look like the dying man I’d held in my arms in the halls of Edinburgh. He looked like I’d known him before all of that.
He stood before me in the gray cloak of a Warden, sword at his side, hair the same color as the blade of the magical weapon would be had
it been out of the sheath. Arms crossed over his wide chest, his eyes watched me with the same conviction, dedication, honor that I’d come to realize that he had. That was ingrained so deeply in him. And as I looked at that face I couldn’t help the flare of guilt and anger that rushed over me.
Guilt that I hadn’t noticed sooner. That I hadn’t been able to do anything for him in the end besides hold his hand, that I hadn’t noticed what was happening sooner, that I simply couldn’t do more. Deep down I knew it was stupid. I had done everything I possibly could have. In fact, I’d done far more than anyone would have figured. But it still gnawed at him. It always did. No matter how far down I showed that guilt, I could still feel it eating away at my insides one tiny little nibble at a time. The more I thought about it, the bigger it got. Just one step faster, one thought sooner, one tiny, little, itty bitty bit more and I might have made more of a difference. Guilt. It could leave you a hollow husk.
And anger? Anger for all of the people who had died in response to Peabody’s betrayal and Morgan’s supposed crime. The strain on my mentor’s face when he realized he’d been subtly manipulated, only he didn’t know how long or in what way. He didn’t deserve that, dammit. Not Ebenezer. It was that red hot kind of anger. The kind the burned in you and demanded revenge for all of the wrongs
that were committed. It gripped your soul, and it didn’t let go. Not until you did something, and something big. I wanted to make them pay like I’d never wanted to make anyone pay before. This being me, that was saying something.
“Get that guilt out of your eyes, Dresden, or I will make you regret it. Intensely.” His finger tapped the hilt of the sword he held at his hip.
“But…” I shut up when I saw the narrowing of his eyes and his fingers curl around said sword. You don’t screw with Wardens, dead or alive.
“You don’t have time for that, even if it were true, which it’s not. The bastard deserved it, and I was glad that I got to be the one to make him pay.”
I heard the silent “for Anastasia” that could have fit there too even if he didn’t say it. Being the smart guy that I am, I kept my mouth shut and let him continue.
“The council is likely in shambles. They’ve all got enough to worry about, and even if they didn’t, we both know they wouldn’t be able, or willing, to do much about it. You, however, can. Make use of your time here, Dresden. Get better so that you can go back and kick the damn traitors’ asses. You can walk that line. You always have, and you can do it now. Make them pay.”
I didn’t have to think about everyone who had been hurt because of the Black Council. I didn’t have to consider everyone who could be hurt in the future because of them. Hell, I didn’t even need to wonder who was getting hurt right now because of them. I just got to my feet, determination flowing from every damn inch of me, and gave Morgan a firm nod. The answer was just too obvious.
“When I’m done with them, all the king’s horses an all the king’s men won’t even begin to try to put them back together. You have my word.”
Morgan gave me a smile that some might have considered a touch sadistic. Me? I just thought it was appropriate. He held out his hand. This was the guy who would have loved to take my head from my shoulders without a second thought for goddamn years. This was also the guy who’d put his life on the line for someone he’d cared about and had, in the end, almost apologized to me. That… that I could respect. I grasped his hand firmly.
----------------------------------
[Harry’s eyes drifted open to the light of the sun floating through the windows and the words, “You do that,” dancing around in the back of his head. The slimmest trace of a smile darted across his face.]
Still can’t leave me alone even when he’s dead. Hell’s bells, Morgan, you’ve always been a stubborn guy with way too much time on your hands.