Chameleon Chapter 3
Title: Chameleon
Pairing: Eventual Sherlock/John, iffily platonic Harry/John
Rating: R
Features/Warnings: Crossover with the Sentinel, AU, Plotfic. Forced Bonding, Non-con, coersion, imprisonment, incesty vibes, mild violence.
Summary: Written for This Prompt: In a world filled with Sentinels with heightened senses, strength and endurance, and Guides, with seductive empathy, who knew that seeming "ordinary" could be John's greatest strength.
Word count: 3100
A/N Sorry, weekends are always terrible times for writing for me.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
John finished plugging in the Sarah’s number, put the mobile to his ear, then shouldered his way into the Scotsman’s Pub. The noise hit him like a solid wall, along with the sour/sharp smell of spilled beer and clouds of cigarette smoke. John didn’t know how Harry, a Sentinel, could stand the place, but somehow she did. In nearly the same movement, he backed out again and breathed the fresh night air. He leaned against the wall and stared out at the slate grey sky, with just the tiniest hint of stars peeking through the light pollution.
“Dr. Sawyer,” came a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone. “How can I help you.” John jumped and pressed the phone tighter against his face.
“Yes, hi, Sarah,” said John trying to be apologetic yet ingratiating, “It’s John. I’ve had to step out a bit early. I just - just wanted you to know.” He winced at his own lameness.
“John? What do you mean stepped out?” Dr. Sawyer sounded distinctly irritated. “Get your arse back here. You’ve got two more hours of shift.”
“I - I can’t. Listen, my rounds are done for the night, everyone is stable. I’d just be doing paperwork anyway.”
“That’s not the point, John. You get paid for being here, not popping off whenever you like. Christ, how many years have you been here?” The pub door opened up and a wave of noise came out with it. “What was that? A party?”
“I’m at a pub. It’s Harry, Sarah. She needs me,” John lied.
“Oh, really,” said Sarah, skeptically. “You are a crap liar, John. You always get that little quaver in your voice. You know what, I don’t care why you decided to play truant. Just get your arse back and I won’t write you up.” Her words were harsh, but John could hear a trace humour behind them. He smiled and shook his head at his luck. Thank God for having a boss who thought he was cute. He thought the same back at her, but even if he hadn’t had this huge secret hanging over his head, John would have been careful about encouraging the fraternisation too much. Flirting a little was fine, but it was never a good idea to date one’s immediate boss.
“I’ll see -“
The door opened again. He flinched at the noise.
Then he jumped when a strong arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him backwards. “Hey!” he cried out. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled the phone up past his shoulder.
Harry leaned over, booze roiling out of her breath and she shouted into the receiver. “HI, SARAH! TELL JOHN YOU WANT TO SHAG HIM ALREADY!”
“Oh Christ,” said John, pushing his heart back into his chest. “Harry!”
“I stand corrected,” said Sarah, surprised. “I take it you got some guenidine on you.”
“Yeah. I’m going to get her home. She’s utterly pissed.” Harry was. “I’m sorry Sarah, I don’t think I can get back by the time my shift ends.” John fought his way out of Harry’s armlock. He felt breath on the back of his neck and snapped back, “Harry, I swear if you lick me again I’m going to punch you.”
Harry laughed and stepped backwards, throwing her hands up in the air. John turned around and took her in. She was stupidly drunk. Again. But something was off about her. He did a double take on her outfit. Her blouse had a few too many buttons undone. He could see her bra. Harry might be a drunk, but she wasn’t a floozy.
“Okay, that’s all I need to know,” Sarah was saying with a dry laugh. “Go tranq your sister. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” said John and hung up.
“God, John,” said Harry, her eyes crinkled with drunken merriment. “You are such a fucking liar.”
“Thanks for backing me up,” said John.
“No problem. So what are you here for? And don’t say me, because you didn’t have a clue I’d be here.” Harry took his arm in a rather tight grip and started pulling him into the pub. John let himself go. Harry was in trouble. He could sense it off of her, under the anaesthesia of the booze. “I thought Bart's didn’t like their people walking around town in scrubs. Breaking the dress code. That’s not right you know. It’s my job to be the family fuck-up. You are the responsible one.”
John didn’t have a plausible excuse so he just shrugged. Luckily Harry was more concerned about herself than him and he could tell she actually didn’t care what his reasons were. “You aren’t a fuck up, Harry. You’re just having a hard time of it. And what’s got to you tonight? Are you zoning out too much? Or is your girlfriend giving you trouble? Do you need guenidine?”
“You don’t have any guenidine on you, I’d be able to smell it,” Harry said sharply.
“I see too much to drink hasn’t dulled your senses,” said John as she pulled him up to the bar and pushed him onto one of the stools. “Though how you can smell anything in this place is beyond me.”
“Practice,” said Harry. “And it never does. Fuck, I wouldn’t have a job if I couldn’t sense shit while drunk.”
“Then why do you do it?” John asked, annoyed. “Why do you let yourself get like this. One of these days you are going to get in trouble with the Tower, and god knows what kind of facility they’d put you into trying to straighten you out.”
Harry snorted, derisively. “It dulls the pain, John. Sweet liquid bliss - or piss. I don’t know.” She lifted up a half drunk glass of ale. “This stuff’s shit.” She leaned forward and waved at the bartender. “Get my brother a glass of your finest John Smith’s Extra Smooth.”
The bartender didn’t look very happy at her, but did what she asked. People respected a Sentinel, even one in this state. He slid a foaming glass in front of John, who took it and dared a sip. Well, there was no danger of him getting drunk on this.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Harry spinning around on her stool so that her back rested up against the bar. “I need your opinion.”
“Okay,” said John warily.
“Which of these men look hot to you.” She made an expansive gesture to the rest of the bar.
John glanced around the bar, then back to her when the request filtered it’s way though his head. “Which of… what? None of them!” John glowered. “For the last time, Harry, you are the gay one in the family, not me. And why are you trying to check out men anyway? Are you on the outs with Clara again? Looking to make her jealous? Is that what this is about?”
“Clara’s fine. I just need a sperm donor and I don’t want him to be a total dog. If I’m going to bring a brat into the world, the least I can do for the little turd is to give it some good looks. No big deal.”
No big deal?! “Slow down!” said John alarmed. He looked at Harry’s undone top and fought the urge to reach forward and button it up. “You are trying to pick up a random man at a bar and try to get pregnant by him? How much have you had to drink today? Never mind, I can’t let you do it.”
“Why not,” said Harry looking as haughtily as her drunkenness would let her. “It’s my body. I can do with it what I want. I’m thirty one, John. My biological clock is ticking.”
Christ. “Because you are drunk and this is … insane!” John dragged a hand through his hair. “I mean, I can’t even fathom it, Harry. You don’t even like children! You didn’t even like children when you were a child. And now you have a steady girlfriend who puts up with you - god I don’t even know why. And you are going to cheat on her with some drunk bastard you picked up in a bar? Even if you were going to have a child you should use a sperm bank or pick out a father who you’ve at least vetted. These guys could be axe murderers! They could have a disease! I - I just can’t express how bad an idea this is, and if you were even slightly sober you’d know that yourself.”
“Well piss off then, John. If you aren’t going to help, get out of my way.”
“Oh hell, no, Harry,” said John obstinately. “You brought me into this, I’m staying.” He put his hand on her forearm and began to push some sensibility into her. Harry wasn’t zoned, but he could tell that she was deeply upset about something. If he could get her to stop and think he could iron this out. He gave her his strength and eased the mental misery. The Guide in him grew content.
Harry breathed, gave his hand a quick squeeze, then pulled away and turned her stool around again. The artificial cheer was gone. She looked as sullen and angry as she really was. “Okay, John, you are right. I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I don’t want to get pregnant. The thought of a guy touching me makes me nauseous.”
“That’s better,” said John, satisfied.
“You know what my problem is, John? I’m desperate.”
“I can see that. Tell me what’s going on.”
She wiped her face, and then each eye individually. “It’s the same old thing, John. It’s nothing new. I’m thirty-one years old. Either I tranq myself in the morning just to keep my brains from frying, then I have to fight the tranq all day so I can actually do my job. Or I take a couple stiff drinks and deal with having my senses randomly ramp up to eleven. I deal with the misogynistic shitholes down at the Tower. Then, I come home and -“ Harry paused. “She tries, you know.” Harry met his eyes and seemed to be somewhat sober. “Clara does. She puts up with so much of my shit. I don’t know, she must have a real masochistic side to her. But I’m a Sentinel and she’s not a Guide. She’s in love with me, but I can’t - I’m just going through the motions with her. And the motions are getting harder every year.”
“Have you talked with the Tower about getting a Guide.”
“Oh, what a thought!” said Harry, slamming her hand down on the bar. “Get a guide! I’d never considered that! You are a genius, John!”
John tightened up at the insult. “I know you are in the registry, Harry. They have to know you need one.”
“Need is not what decides who gets a Guide,” said Harry. “God if only it did. In London Tower, Hope is what gets you a Guide.”
Hope? Oh, Hope. The Matchmaker.
“They aren’t going to give me a Guide. Never. They’ll hand them off left and right to pipsqueak Sentinels too young to shave and important dicks who don’t even fucking want them before they’ll let a female Sentinel have a female Guide.”
She took a last swig and emptied her glass. She then lifted it up to the barman. John considered cancelling her order, but he figured it would probably break his chances of getting to the bottom of Harry’s problems.
“Why do you think they’d do that?”
“Because fucking Hope wants to breed them. He’s not going to let me take a fertile womb out of the pool when he could pair her up with some testosterone poisoned Sentinel and make a ton of Guidelings. And he doesn’t trust that I’d let a male guide into my pants. And he’s fucking right on that score.” Harry accepted a new glass with a smile and a nod. “But you know, that shouldn’t make a difference. If the point is to breed the poor sods, I could make that even easier. I wouldn’t stand in the way of my Guide having other relationships. He can have a girlfriend. Or two. Or a dozen. I’d whore his little prick out to all takers, so long as I can have my life back again. But that’s not enough for Hope. He wants all his Sentinel-Guide pairs to have a sexual bond as well as a platonic one. Which is fucking nuts. History is full of great Sentinels who had platonic Guides.”
John nodded, though the ‘whoring out’ bit made him nervous. “How do you know that Hope isn’t going to give you one.”
“You know how many times I’ve been called up to the interview room for a Guide who turned herself in? Never. Not one time, in the entire eight years I’ve been with this Tower. So that leaves hunts. You know how many times I’ve been called on a hunt since I moved to London? Twice. And they were both incompatible men. And that was six years ago.”
“Maybe there hasn’t been anyone compatible with you?”
“That wouldn’t stop me from going on hunts!” said Harry. “There was a hunt tonight, did you know? And I got passed up again. They asked around for Sentinels who needed a Guide, and my hand went up so fast I broke the sound barrier. But they passed me over. And you know who they sent on the hunt? Two dumb male teenagers. No. It’s not coincidence. It’s a vendetta.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “But you just stopped me. If I proved that I’m bisexual enough to fuck a male guide, Hope might let me have one. What better way to back up my word than to show up one day with a bun in the oven. It’s not like I’d have to keep it. I could adopt the little turd out. But you are right, I don’t know if I could even do it. I’m drunk off my arse here and the idea makes me want to retch.”
“There’s got to be another way.”
“Yeah, I could have lots of money to donate to the Tower. Or I could have lots of connections in high places.”
“Our family has connections,” said John, hopefully.
“Our clan own some crappy land in Scotland. Around here that counts for less than nothing. Hell, me getting a cushy post in London was a coup on their part. I only came down here to follow you, John. Because I didn’t want to lose my little brother.”
John sighed. And I came down here to get away from you, he didn’t say, but she picked up on it anyway.
“What happened, John,” asked Harry, leaning over her beer, looking morose. “What the fuck did I do? We were so close as kids, and then I went away to the Tower. When I came back you were gone.”
“I wasn’t gone. I still lived at home.”
“You slept at home. But otherwise you were elsewhere. It was like you couldn’t stand me anymore. I thought at first it was that you were jealous, but it’s been fifteen years now John, and it’s still there, whatever it is you are holding against me. You come whenever I need you - hell even sometimes when I don’t call you. But it’s like you’re a rabbit in a trap, trying to scramble away. Was it because I crawled into your bed that one time? Did that freak you out? Nothing happened and I was crazy in pain. I was just kid, for fuck’s sake.”
“It wasn’t that,” said John. “I just needed to get out from under your shadow, Harry. That’s all. You had this whole life ahead of you that I couldn’t be a part of. So I went and made my own life. We grew up and went our separate ways. It’s normal.”
“You couldn’t be a part of -“ Harry repeated. “You know, I wish to hell you had been a Guide, John,” she said. “It would solve all my problems. I’d bond with you in heartbeat. I know we’re compatible.”
Okay, that’s not what he wanted to hear. “Don’t be gross, Harry. I’m your brother.”
“Platonically, John. Platonically.” Harry sighed. “They aren’t as tight as the sexual bonds, but they do exist. I wouldn’t touch your prick if it were diamonds. Gross!”
John snorted.
Harry went on, “But remember how we were when we were kids - and you’d, God, you’d let me drag you out into all kinds of mad shit. Remember that cave? Were we mental or what? When I became a Sentinel, that’s what I thought it would be like. Like you and me crawling around in limestone caves, looking for Roman relics. If you were a Guide we could have something like that now. You’d come on patrol with me. We could share a house and date bisexual twins or something.”
“But I’m not a Guide,” said John. He was acutely aware of everyone around them. He hoped the noise of the place were drowning out their conversation. This was precisely why he didn’t like hanging out with Harry. Her big mouth. “And I really wish you’d stop saying that kind of thing in public. The wrong person might hear and I don’t want your Tower breathing down my neck. Bad enough when you do it.”
“I know. I know. And yet. I don’t know, John. Part of me, I have to admit this, part of me has been hoping that you’ve been hiding it all these years. It’s not a rational thing, I know. And yet, I just can’t shake it - this feeling that you were supposed to be a Guide like I was supposed to be a Sentinel. I mean, think about it John. When I’m with you, I always feel more grounded - a couple of pints with you always settles me better than a session with the dowdy old bonded Guides at the Tower. I don’t know how you are able to do it and not be a Guide.”
“All I’m doing is talking to you, Harry,” said John, projecting as much truth into that as he could. He wasn’t surprised to see his chameleon on the brown bar. It’s colour was a wee bit off. While he watched it melted into the woodwork and disappeared. “You know I’m not a Guide.” he projected at Harry. “I’m just your brother.”
“Duh,” said Harry finishing up her beer. “Forget it John. I’m drunk. I’m not trying to make you angry.”
“I think it’s time for you to go home.” He gestured to the barman for the tab. “Clara will be wondering.”
Harry just nodded, defeated.
Chapter 4
Pairing: Eventual Sherlock/John, iffily platonic Harry/John
Rating: R
Features/Warnings: Crossover with the Sentinel, AU, Plotfic. Forced Bonding, Non-con, coersion, imprisonment, incesty vibes, mild violence.
Summary: Written for This Prompt: In a world filled with Sentinels with heightened senses, strength and endurance, and Guides, with seductive empathy, who knew that seeming "ordinary" could be John's greatest strength.
Word count: 3100
A/N Sorry, weekends are always terrible times for writing for me.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
John finished plugging in the Sarah’s number, put the mobile to his ear, then shouldered his way into the Scotsman’s Pub. The noise hit him like a solid wall, along with the sour/sharp smell of spilled beer and clouds of cigarette smoke. John didn’t know how Harry, a Sentinel, could stand the place, but somehow she did. In nearly the same movement, he backed out again and breathed the fresh night air. He leaned against the wall and stared out at the slate grey sky, with just the tiniest hint of stars peeking through the light pollution.
“Dr. Sawyer,” came a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone. “How can I help you.” John jumped and pressed the phone tighter against his face.
“Yes, hi, Sarah,” said John trying to be apologetic yet ingratiating, “It’s John. I’ve had to step out a bit early. I just - just wanted you to know.” He winced at his own lameness.
“John? What do you mean stepped out?” Dr. Sawyer sounded distinctly irritated. “Get your arse back here. You’ve got two more hours of shift.”
“I - I can’t. Listen, my rounds are done for the night, everyone is stable. I’d just be doing paperwork anyway.”
“That’s not the point, John. You get paid for being here, not popping off whenever you like. Christ, how many years have you been here?” The pub door opened up and a wave of noise came out with it. “What was that? A party?”
“I’m at a pub. It’s Harry, Sarah. She needs me,” John lied.
“Oh, really,” said Sarah, skeptically. “You are a crap liar, John. You always get that little quaver in your voice. You know what, I don’t care why you decided to play truant. Just get your arse back and I won’t write you up.” Her words were harsh, but John could hear a trace humour behind them. He smiled and shook his head at his luck. Thank God for having a boss who thought he was cute. He thought the same back at her, but even if he hadn’t had this huge secret hanging over his head, John would have been careful about encouraging the fraternisation too much. Flirting a little was fine, but it was never a good idea to date one’s immediate boss.
“I’ll see -“
The door opened again. He flinched at the noise.
Then he jumped when a strong arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him backwards. “Hey!” he cried out. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled the phone up past his shoulder.
Harry leaned over, booze roiling out of her breath and she shouted into the receiver. “HI, SARAH! TELL JOHN YOU WANT TO SHAG HIM ALREADY!”
“Oh Christ,” said John, pushing his heart back into his chest. “Harry!”
“I stand corrected,” said Sarah, surprised. “I take it you got some guenidine on you.”
“Yeah. I’m going to get her home. She’s utterly pissed.” Harry was. “I’m sorry Sarah, I don’t think I can get back by the time my shift ends.” John fought his way out of Harry’s armlock. He felt breath on the back of his neck and snapped back, “Harry, I swear if you lick me again I’m going to punch you.”
Harry laughed and stepped backwards, throwing her hands up in the air. John turned around and took her in. She was stupidly drunk. Again. But something was off about her. He did a double take on her outfit. Her blouse had a few too many buttons undone. He could see her bra. Harry might be a drunk, but she wasn’t a floozy.
“Okay, that’s all I need to know,” Sarah was saying with a dry laugh. “Go tranq your sister. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” said John and hung up.
“God, John,” said Harry, her eyes crinkled with drunken merriment. “You are such a fucking liar.”
“Thanks for backing me up,” said John.
“No problem. So what are you here for? And don’t say me, because you didn’t have a clue I’d be here.” Harry took his arm in a rather tight grip and started pulling him into the pub. John let himself go. Harry was in trouble. He could sense it off of her, under the anaesthesia of the booze. “I thought Bart's didn’t like their people walking around town in scrubs. Breaking the dress code. That’s not right you know. It’s my job to be the family fuck-up. You are the responsible one.”
John didn’t have a plausible excuse so he just shrugged. Luckily Harry was more concerned about herself than him and he could tell she actually didn’t care what his reasons were. “You aren’t a fuck up, Harry. You’re just having a hard time of it. And what’s got to you tonight? Are you zoning out too much? Or is your girlfriend giving you trouble? Do you need guenidine?”
“You don’t have any guenidine on you, I’d be able to smell it,” Harry said sharply.
“I see too much to drink hasn’t dulled your senses,” said John as she pulled him up to the bar and pushed him onto one of the stools. “Though how you can smell anything in this place is beyond me.”
“Practice,” said Harry. “And it never does. Fuck, I wouldn’t have a job if I couldn’t sense shit while drunk.”
“Then why do you do it?” John asked, annoyed. “Why do you let yourself get like this. One of these days you are going to get in trouble with the Tower, and god knows what kind of facility they’d put you into trying to straighten you out.”
Harry snorted, derisively. “It dulls the pain, John. Sweet liquid bliss - or piss. I don’t know.” She lifted up a half drunk glass of ale. “This stuff’s shit.” She leaned forward and waved at the bartender. “Get my brother a glass of your finest John Smith’s Extra Smooth.”
The bartender didn’t look very happy at her, but did what she asked. People respected a Sentinel, even one in this state. He slid a foaming glass in front of John, who took it and dared a sip. Well, there was no danger of him getting drunk on this.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Harry spinning around on her stool so that her back rested up against the bar. “I need your opinion.”
“Okay,” said John warily.
“Which of these men look hot to you.” She made an expansive gesture to the rest of the bar.
John glanced around the bar, then back to her when the request filtered it’s way though his head. “Which of… what? None of them!” John glowered. “For the last time, Harry, you are the gay one in the family, not me. And why are you trying to check out men anyway? Are you on the outs with Clara again? Looking to make her jealous? Is that what this is about?”
“Clara’s fine. I just need a sperm donor and I don’t want him to be a total dog. If I’m going to bring a brat into the world, the least I can do for the little turd is to give it some good looks. No big deal.”
No big deal?! “Slow down!” said John alarmed. He looked at Harry’s undone top and fought the urge to reach forward and button it up. “You are trying to pick up a random man at a bar and try to get pregnant by him? How much have you had to drink today? Never mind, I can’t let you do it.”
“Why not,” said Harry looking as haughtily as her drunkenness would let her. “It’s my body. I can do with it what I want. I’m thirty one, John. My biological clock is ticking.”
Christ. “Because you are drunk and this is … insane!” John dragged a hand through his hair. “I mean, I can’t even fathom it, Harry. You don’t even like children! You didn’t even like children when you were a child. And now you have a steady girlfriend who puts up with you - god I don’t even know why. And you are going to cheat on her with some drunk bastard you picked up in a bar? Even if you were going to have a child you should use a sperm bank or pick out a father who you’ve at least vetted. These guys could be axe murderers! They could have a disease! I - I just can’t express how bad an idea this is, and if you were even slightly sober you’d know that yourself.”
“Well piss off then, John. If you aren’t going to help, get out of my way.”
“Oh hell, no, Harry,” said John obstinately. “You brought me into this, I’m staying.” He put his hand on her forearm and began to push some sensibility into her. Harry wasn’t zoned, but he could tell that she was deeply upset about something. If he could get her to stop and think he could iron this out. He gave her his strength and eased the mental misery. The Guide in him grew content.
Harry breathed, gave his hand a quick squeeze, then pulled away and turned her stool around again. The artificial cheer was gone. She looked as sullen and angry as she really was. “Okay, John, you are right. I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I don’t want to get pregnant. The thought of a guy touching me makes me nauseous.”
“That’s better,” said John, satisfied.
“You know what my problem is, John? I’m desperate.”
“I can see that. Tell me what’s going on.”
She wiped her face, and then each eye individually. “It’s the same old thing, John. It’s nothing new. I’m thirty-one years old. Either I tranq myself in the morning just to keep my brains from frying, then I have to fight the tranq all day so I can actually do my job. Or I take a couple stiff drinks and deal with having my senses randomly ramp up to eleven. I deal with the misogynistic shitholes down at the Tower. Then, I come home and -“ Harry paused. “She tries, you know.” Harry met his eyes and seemed to be somewhat sober. “Clara does. She puts up with so much of my shit. I don’t know, she must have a real masochistic side to her. But I’m a Sentinel and she’s not a Guide. She’s in love with me, but I can’t - I’m just going through the motions with her. And the motions are getting harder every year.”
“Have you talked with the Tower about getting a Guide.”
“Oh, what a thought!” said Harry, slamming her hand down on the bar. “Get a guide! I’d never considered that! You are a genius, John!”
John tightened up at the insult. “I know you are in the registry, Harry. They have to know you need one.”
“Need is not what decides who gets a Guide,” said Harry. “God if only it did. In London Tower, Hope is what gets you a Guide.”
Hope? Oh, Hope. The Matchmaker.
“They aren’t going to give me a Guide. Never. They’ll hand them off left and right to pipsqueak Sentinels too young to shave and important dicks who don’t even fucking want them before they’ll let a female Sentinel have a female Guide.”
She took a last swig and emptied her glass. She then lifted it up to the barman. John considered cancelling her order, but he figured it would probably break his chances of getting to the bottom of Harry’s problems.
“Why do you think they’d do that?”
“Because fucking Hope wants to breed them. He’s not going to let me take a fertile womb out of the pool when he could pair her up with some testosterone poisoned Sentinel and make a ton of Guidelings. And he doesn’t trust that I’d let a male guide into my pants. And he’s fucking right on that score.” Harry accepted a new glass with a smile and a nod. “But you know, that shouldn’t make a difference. If the point is to breed the poor sods, I could make that even easier. I wouldn’t stand in the way of my Guide having other relationships. He can have a girlfriend. Or two. Or a dozen. I’d whore his little prick out to all takers, so long as I can have my life back again. But that’s not enough for Hope. He wants all his Sentinel-Guide pairs to have a sexual bond as well as a platonic one. Which is fucking nuts. History is full of great Sentinels who had platonic Guides.”
John nodded, though the ‘whoring out’ bit made him nervous. “How do you know that Hope isn’t going to give you one.”
“You know how many times I’ve been called up to the interview room for a Guide who turned herself in? Never. Not one time, in the entire eight years I’ve been with this Tower. So that leaves hunts. You know how many times I’ve been called on a hunt since I moved to London? Twice. And they were both incompatible men. And that was six years ago.”
“Maybe there hasn’t been anyone compatible with you?”
“That wouldn’t stop me from going on hunts!” said Harry. “There was a hunt tonight, did you know? And I got passed up again. They asked around for Sentinels who needed a Guide, and my hand went up so fast I broke the sound barrier. But they passed me over. And you know who they sent on the hunt? Two dumb male teenagers. No. It’s not coincidence. It’s a vendetta.”
“I’m sorry, Harry. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. “But you just stopped me. If I proved that I’m bisexual enough to fuck a male guide, Hope might let me have one. What better way to back up my word than to show up one day with a bun in the oven. It’s not like I’d have to keep it. I could adopt the little turd out. But you are right, I don’t know if I could even do it. I’m drunk off my arse here and the idea makes me want to retch.”
“There’s got to be another way.”
“Yeah, I could have lots of money to donate to the Tower. Or I could have lots of connections in high places.”
“Our family has connections,” said John, hopefully.
“Our clan own some crappy land in Scotland. Around here that counts for less than nothing. Hell, me getting a cushy post in London was a coup on their part. I only came down here to follow you, John. Because I didn’t want to lose my little brother.”
John sighed. And I came down here to get away from you, he didn’t say, but she picked up on it anyway.
“What happened, John,” asked Harry, leaning over her beer, looking morose. “What the fuck did I do? We were so close as kids, and then I went away to the Tower. When I came back you were gone.”
“I wasn’t gone. I still lived at home.”
“You slept at home. But otherwise you were elsewhere. It was like you couldn’t stand me anymore. I thought at first it was that you were jealous, but it’s been fifteen years now John, and it’s still there, whatever it is you are holding against me. You come whenever I need you - hell even sometimes when I don’t call you. But it’s like you’re a rabbit in a trap, trying to scramble away. Was it because I crawled into your bed that one time? Did that freak you out? Nothing happened and I was crazy in pain. I was just kid, for fuck’s sake.”
“It wasn’t that,” said John. “I just needed to get out from under your shadow, Harry. That’s all. You had this whole life ahead of you that I couldn’t be a part of. So I went and made my own life. We grew up and went our separate ways. It’s normal.”
“You couldn’t be a part of -“ Harry repeated. “You know, I wish to hell you had been a Guide, John,” she said. “It would solve all my problems. I’d bond with you in heartbeat. I know we’re compatible.”
Okay, that’s not what he wanted to hear. “Don’t be gross, Harry. I’m your brother.”
“Platonically, John. Platonically.” Harry sighed. “They aren’t as tight as the sexual bonds, but they do exist. I wouldn’t touch your prick if it were diamonds. Gross!”
John snorted.
Harry went on, “But remember how we were when we were kids - and you’d, God, you’d let me drag you out into all kinds of mad shit. Remember that cave? Were we mental or what? When I became a Sentinel, that’s what I thought it would be like. Like you and me crawling around in limestone caves, looking for Roman relics. If you were a Guide we could have something like that now. You’d come on patrol with me. We could share a house and date bisexual twins or something.”
“But I’m not a Guide,” said John. He was acutely aware of everyone around them. He hoped the noise of the place were drowning out their conversation. This was precisely why he didn’t like hanging out with Harry. Her big mouth. “And I really wish you’d stop saying that kind of thing in public. The wrong person might hear and I don’t want your Tower breathing down my neck. Bad enough when you do it.”
“I know. I know. And yet. I don’t know, John. Part of me, I have to admit this, part of me has been hoping that you’ve been hiding it all these years. It’s not a rational thing, I know. And yet, I just can’t shake it - this feeling that you were supposed to be a Guide like I was supposed to be a Sentinel. I mean, think about it John. When I’m with you, I always feel more grounded - a couple of pints with you always settles me better than a session with the dowdy old bonded Guides at the Tower. I don’t know how you are able to do it and not be a Guide.”
“All I’m doing is talking to you, Harry,” said John, projecting as much truth into that as he could. He wasn’t surprised to see his chameleon on the brown bar. It’s colour was a wee bit off. While he watched it melted into the woodwork and disappeared. “You know I’m not a Guide.” he projected at Harry. “I’m just your brother.”
“Duh,” said Harry finishing up her beer. “Forget it John. I’m drunk. I’m not trying to make you angry.”
“I think it’s time for you to go home.” He gestured to the barman for the tab. “Clara will be wondering.”
Harry just nodded, defeated.
Chapter 4