Sofie - Ficlet Set One - Bump in the Night Verse
Characters: The Archive, ‘Gentleman’ John Marcone, and mentions of Harry Dresden, Karrin Murphy, Jared Kincaid and others.
Fandom: Dresden Files Bookverse
Setting: Bump in the Night Verse - AU Future
Rating/Warnings: PG - Organized Crime death, insanity.
Word Count: 2800 Total
Prompt: Fallout Boy - She’s My Winona
Author’s Notes: A set of ficlets to explain the world and family ‘Sofia’ came from before she got rift sucked into Bump!Verse Proper. Betaed by gentlemanjohnny and zaa_lord and they have approved the actions of those characters. Grammar smacked and non-fandom betaed by phasing_cat Special thanks to 45825243_t78_a for the idea of The Archive's new Mob Princess name. :D
“When the two collide, it’s no coincidence.”
Set after Harry leaves Murphy’s home in Small Favor
John Marcone was not used to someone trying to stop him from taking something that he wanted, but even so, his expression remained calm as no less than three guns were aimed at his face.
“No.” Karrin Murphy snapped at him, as though all the mob boss would have to do was blink and she’d lodge a bullet in his brain. He raised a perfectly groomed brow at her, then the mercenary who had served as The Archive’s guardian that stood directly behind her. Kincad had two weapons drawn, and his expression echoed that of his....well, whatever Murphy was.
“It is not open for discussion,” Marcone said, as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary. He nodded to his own hired bodyguards to keep their weapons drawn on Murphy and Kincaid before he ducked into Murphy’s spare bedroom casually as could be.
He paused a moment at the little bed the Archive was sleeping on, the bruises on her small form less upsetting to him than the emotional scars he knew the events that had taken place a few short hours ago would have on the child. Marcone had to, for the first time in a very long time, work up courage to pick up the child in his arms. When he did, Ivy whimpered and stirred before looking up at him with her blood-shot-from-crying blue eyes. What was left of her hair had become a tangled mess from the exhaustion-induced, yet restless, sleep, and nightmares that came with it.
John froze, staring at the little girl for half a moment before he choked on his own words. Again, it was something he wasn’t at all used to happening. “It’s going to be alright.” He whispered before he looked away. “This is never going to happen to you again if I have any say.”
Ivy frowned when he looked away from her. She knew his secret, and she’d seen far worse things in her short life than John Marcone’s soul. Even so, she didn’t say a word. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggled close, and said simply, “I know.”
“Hell or Glory, I don’t want anything in between.”
About six month after Small Favor
Nightmares were nothing new for Ivy. Those came hand-in-hand with the memories passed down with the Archive. However, the trauma of what Nicodemus had done to her several months ago made it that much harder to drift back to what might pass as sleep. Ivy scooted out of the bed in her room that lay centered in the mansion that was John Marcone’s home. She moved gently and quietly down the long and winding halls, hoping the walk would clear her mind enough to allow for some rest. It didn’t.
Eventually, Ivy found herself somewhere she shouldn’t have been. There were many places in the huge home like that. Marcone had made it a point to keep the portions of his home where the criminal aspects of his business took place far away from the girl, for her protection and his own. She knew of course, but she pretended to appease him. Things were hard enough as it was.
There was something he couldn’t hide, though. At least not from her, even though most of the people close to John didn’t even suspect his secret. Ivy walked into a part of the house she’d never been to before, and pushed a heavy wooden door open to find John bent over an ancient looking desk. He was focused, though his expression looked nearly pained. She took a step closer before she noticed a line of pure white sand circling his desk. As Ivy craned her head closer to the circle a surge of magical energies hit her hard enough to make the little girl squeak in surprise. She knew he was powerful, but this was truly unexpected. What he was doing, she wasn’t sure, and she was not sure he wanted her to know.
What Ivy did know was that she didn’t belong there, so before John could notice she stepped away and ran back to her room. She wiggled back under the luxurious covers of the bed that was far too big and pretended to sleep.
Hours later, when Marcone gently pushed the door open and left a plain blue jewelry box on her nightstand, Ivy kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady as if she was sleeping.
As soon as she was sure he’d gone, Ivy sat up and pulled the box down into her lap. It practically vibrated with energies, and just holding the box made her feel safer, happier, warmer, better. She slipped a simple necklace out of the box, holding the little cluster of three rings in shades of gold in her hand for a long while before she put it around her neck. Those feelings only intensified when the metal brushed her neck. Ivy smiled and replaced the box on her nightstand. She then nuzzled against her pillow, letting out a happy little sigh before drifting into the first restful sleep she’d had in months.
“Never the same person when I go to sleep as when I wake up.”
Two years after Small Favor
It had been nearly two years since John Marcone had signed the paperwork allowing him to legally adopt the little girl known to so many only as Ivy. The two had grown from mutual avoidance to acceptance to outwardly caring for each other and enjoying each other’s company. They now sat down for breakfast in the main dining room, as they did every morning.
The thirteen year old blonde girl looked down at the paperwork John’s assistant had set before her. School. Ivy looked at the man in a well tailored suit as he ate, her pile of french toast suddenly unappealing. Finally she stood and walked to his end of the long table. “I know everything in the history of human knowledge that has ever been documented.” She pointed out, holding the papers out to John. “I do not need education. I don’t see why I should have to go.” That wasn’t the part that upset her the most though. Ivy was afraid. Afraid of being around other children, afraid she would not be able to behave normally, and above all, she was afraid of the other papers that sat with her school registration forms.
“Ivy,” John used the name carefully. “Schooling is what normal children do, and I have learned that the best place to hide is often in plain sight. Normal children go to school, and you will go to school.” He took another bite of his own meal, chewing thoroughly before he gave her a firm look. John could tell that there was something deeper than going to school upsetting her.
She looked down at the paperwork, her lip trembling slightly. “I like my name.” She protested weakly, tugging on the necklace John had given her months ago nervously. “I am Ivy. It is who I am.” She said with as much conviction as she could, which frankly was very little. “Mr. Dresden gave me my name, and...”
“Names have power.” John finished the sentence quickly. He set down his fork and reached for the child’s trembling fingers. “Too many know that The Archive is also called Ivy. I cannot allow anyone to have that kind of power over you.” He said as he wrapped his fingers around hers.
Ivy stared down at his larger, more weathered, hands covering hers. She’d expected him to lay down the law, and not give her a choice in the matter. What Ivy hadn’t expected, though, was that John seemed to....care. The Archive had deduced that the Baron of Chicago wanted to keep it safe from a purely business standpoint, but Ivy...Ivy didn’t know what was the right thing to feel. Gratitude, affection, fear? Perhaps a little of all three and even more. What was the proper response to this? She just didn’t know.
So Ivy simply looked up at him and nodded. “Sofia. From the Greek word meaning wisdom.” She said as a quiver crept into her voice. It was pretty. Beautiful even.
John nodded and let go of her hands, resting one of his own on her shoulder. “Your middle name will be Antonia,” he said simply as the little girl nodded. “Because knowledge is invaluable, and so is the Archive,” she said. John shook his head then, a rare warm smile growing. “No, Ivy.” He said gently, smiling ever so slightly. “You are what is invaluable.”
Ivy glanced down at the papers again, noting the last name. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and tugged at her still growing out hair nervously. She could do this. She had lived though worse than school and a new name in the past. “If that is what you wish. Father.” She nodded a few times before John gave her another smile.
“Dad is better.” He pointed out. Ivy looked at him and cleared her throat, the word hard to say the first time. “Alright. Dad.”
“Daddy said you gotta show the world the thunder.”
Seven years after Small Favor
Sofie, as everyone had called her for years now, ran like hell, just like he’d told her to if something like this were to ever happen. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look at what had attacked her and John Marcone to know what she was even running from, or worse, what her father was staying back to protect her from.
It took her blocks to find the nearest place she knew was safe. Years ago John had written down the names and addresses of every safe haven he had in the city, along with showing his daughter pictures to be sure she would never ever forget. Then the information was promptly burned so no one else would know that secret.
Sofie was panting when she reached the familiar building. The teenager tore open the door to the kitchen of a supper club, rushing into the chaos before her feet finally stopped moving. The manager shot her a look and nodded before he pointed to an office. Sofie nodded in return and walked backwards to place her hand on the doorknob.
The door was already unlocked.
John Marcone sat in the chair behind the desk, blood still crusting his fingernails despite the fact he’d washed when he’d gotten here. His head was resting in his hands when he heard the door open and looked up suddenly. John exhaled in relief as tears started to pour down Sofie’s cheeks.
She hurried over to the desk. “I could have helped you.” Sofie whispered before John snapped “NO!” at her with more fear and guilt than anger in his voice. He stood, bridging the distance between them quickly. “No one can ever know you are what you are, Sofia.”
“But...” She reached out for his hands, like she did so often when she felt her control of her emotions slipping. “It could have killed you.” She sobbed as her trembling fingers rubbed over his as if she was making sure he was really there and not some stress-induced hallucination or worse. It had happened before, after all.
“He did not. I killed him,” John said firmly and without hesitation. It had been a very long time since he’d gotten his hands truly dirty, but this was a special case. If the creature who was now a bloody corpse had wanted to hurt Marcone or The Archive or both he didn’t know, but John would not take that chance. “Without magic. And anyone who was working with him will know not to try anything like that again.”
Sofie sniffled, not wanting to cry in front of him. It was pointless to be upset over what had happened. She was who she was, and that came with dangers like this. More to the point, he was who he was, and she knew that he did things no one else would do; things that some called criminal. Violent, despicable, even evil things. But he always had a reason. Keeping her safe was a very, very good reason. “I’m sorry.” She choked back a panicked sob as the lighting in the building dimmed a bit. Sofie looked up and whimpered harder, knowing her emotional reaction was causing that. “I was afraid and I...was weak.” She looked down at the floor. “I was stupid.” Sofie sobbed quietly.
John knelt down so he could look up at his daughter though she refused to raise her head. “You’re not stupid, and you are not weak,” he assured her as he rested a still slightly bloodied hand on her chin. “It is time you learn how things really work for me and my city.” John decided out loud. “It is the only way to keep you safe.”
Sofie choked back a sob but nodded before she flung her arms around John’s neck just like she had years ago. He twisted his arms around her, holding tight as he let her cry, trying not to get emotional himself.
Sofie nuzzled against John as she cried and cried over the inevitable duties she knew she’d have to do if she followed in his ‘professional’ footsteps. She’d never deluded herself about who he was, even though John had gone to great lengths to shield her from his more criminal activities. However, what happened that afternoon changed everything.
“Do you want to leave?” John finally asked. It wasn’t an option he ever gave anyone after they’d seen his world, but she wasn’t just anyone. “I won’t force you to do this. You’re eighteen now.” He pointed out smoothly, though his fear that she may really want to leave him was clear.
Sofie smiled then, almost laughing as she shook her head. He’d always tried so hard to protect her, and now it was time to return that favor, in any way she could. “No. I don’t want to go.” She said honestly before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I want to be just like my Daddy.”
“We had a good run, even I have to admit.”
Fifty years after Small Favor
It was like watching his own bittersweet memories as John watched The Archive asleep in a bed with the all too familiar troubled expression of nightmares on her face. Even though both he and Harry had done everything in their power to keep their daughter sane under the pressure of bearing the Archive, it wasn’t enough. Eventually, The Archive’s burden was too much, and she slipped away into madness.
She was old enough to be mistaken for John’s sister by now. The Archive was, sadly, mortal, and age took its toll on her body. The staff at the private mental hospital that John had had built didn’t comment that neither John nor Harry aged quite like her, or perhaps they didn’t even notice. The only time the staff ever did worry was when Sofia woke from her drug induced slumbers. Her eyes would snap open as her pulse rose, showing she was suddenly fully awake and aware despite sedation. Sofia sounded deadly serious as she spat out the need to see Harry or John immediately followed by a cryptic string of words that made sense to no one in the room after they’d arrive.
Well... no one but her, Harry or John.
“We gotta go, she said it’s happening tonight and the sun’s already set.” Harry pulled on John’s arm as the other man stared at the once again sleeping Archive. This most recent frantic riddle of a statement was once again exactly the information they had needed to save multiple worlds. Just as she always did, Sofia had fallen back into her drug induced sleep before they’d gotten to say a word in response. The ‘predictions’ were too draining, and both men knew it took every ounce of will the old woman had to break though the torments in her mind to tell them what they need to hear.
John nodded in agreement, glancing back at a bloodied and battle-torn Harry with his own tired eyes in a silent pleading gesture. Harry nodded and stepped outside. John leaned down, pressing a kiss to the Archive’s forehead as she slept - an unspoken ‘thank you’ before he joined Harry again and they ran off into the night.
Fandom: Dresden Files Bookverse
Setting: Bump in the Night Verse - AU Future
Rating/Warnings: PG - Organized Crime death, insanity.
Word Count: 2800 Total
Prompt: Fallout Boy - She’s My Winona
Author’s Notes: A set of ficlets to explain the world and family ‘Sofia’ came from before she got rift sucked into Bump!Verse Proper. Betaed by gentlemanjohnny and zaa_lord and they have approved the actions of those characters. Grammar smacked and non-fandom betaed by phasing_cat Special thanks to 45825243_t78_a for the idea of The Archive's new Mob Princess name. :D
“When the two collide, it’s no coincidence.”
Set after Harry leaves Murphy’s home in Small Favor
John Marcone was not used to someone trying to stop him from taking something that he wanted, but even so, his expression remained calm as no less than three guns were aimed at his face.
“No.” Karrin Murphy snapped at him, as though all the mob boss would have to do was blink and she’d lodge a bullet in his brain. He raised a perfectly groomed brow at her, then the mercenary who had served as The Archive’s guardian that stood directly behind her. Kincad had two weapons drawn, and his expression echoed that of his....well, whatever Murphy was.
“It is not open for discussion,” Marcone said, as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary. He nodded to his own hired bodyguards to keep their weapons drawn on Murphy and Kincaid before he ducked into Murphy’s spare bedroom casually as could be.
He paused a moment at the little bed the Archive was sleeping on, the bruises on her small form less upsetting to him than the emotional scars he knew the events that had taken place a few short hours ago would have on the child. Marcone had to, for the first time in a very long time, work up courage to pick up the child in his arms. When he did, Ivy whimpered and stirred before looking up at him with her blood-shot-from-crying blue eyes. What was left of her hair had become a tangled mess from the exhaustion-induced, yet restless, sleep, and nightmares that came with it.
John froze, staring at the little girl for half a moment before he choked on his own words. Again, it was something he wasn’t at all used to happening. “It’s going to be alright.” He whispered before he looked away. “This is never going to happen to you again if I have any say.”
Ivy frowned when he looked away from her. She knew his secret, and she’d seen far worse things in her short life than John Marcone’s soul. Even so, she didn’t say a word. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggled close, and said simply, “I know.”
“Hell or Glory, I don’t want anything in between.”
About six month after Small Favor
Nightmares were nothing new for Ivy. Those came hand-in-hand with the memories passed down with the Archive. However, the trauma of what Nicodemus had done to her several months ago made it that much harder to drift back to what might pass as sleep. Ivy scooted out of the bed in her room that lay centered in the mansion that was John Marcone’s home. She moved gently and quietly down the long and winding halls, hoping the walk would clear her mind enough to allow for some rest. It didn’t.
Eventually, Ivy found herself somewhere she shouldn’t have been. There were many places in the huge home like that. Marcone had made it a point to keep the portions of his home where the criminal aspects of his business took place far away from the girl, for her protection and his own. She knew of course, but she pretended to appease him. Things were hard enough as it was.
There was something he couldn’t hide, though. At least not from her, even though most of the people close to John didn’t even suspect his secret. Ivy walked into a part of the house she’d never been to before, and pushed a heavy wooden door open to find John bent over an ancient looking desk. He was focused, though his expression looked nearly pained. She took a step closer before she noticed a line of pure white sand circling his desk. As Ivy craned her head closer to the circle a surge of magical energies hit her hard enough to make the little girl squeak in surprise. She knew he was powerful, but this was truly unexpected. What he was doing, she wasn’t sure, and she was not sure he wanted her to know.
What Ivy did know was that she didn’t belong there, so before John could notice she stepped away and ran back to her room. She wiggled back under the luxurious covers of the bed that was far too big and pretended to sleep.
Hours later, when Marcone gently pushed the door open and left a plain blue jewelry box on her nightstand, Ivy kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady as if she was sleeping.
As soon as she was sure he’d gone, Ivy sat up and pulled the box down into her lap. It practically vibrated with energies, and just holding the box made her feel safer, happier, warmer, better. She slipped a simple necklace out of the box, holding the little cluster of three rings in shades of gold in her hand for a long while before she put it around her neck. Those feelings only intensified when the metal brushed her neck. Ivy smiled and replaced the box on her nightstand. She then nuzzled against her pillow, letting out a happy little sigh before drifting into the first restful sleep she’d had in months.
“Never the same person when I go to sleep as when I wake up.”
Two years after Small Favor
It had been nearly two years since John Marcone had signed the paperwork allowing him to legally adopt the little girl known to so many only as Ivy. The two had grown from mutual avoidance to acceptance to outwardly caring for each other and enjoying each other’s company. They now sat down for breakfast in the main dining room, as they did every morning.
The thirteen year old blonde girl looked down at the paperwork John’s assistant had set before her. School. Ivy looked at the man in a well tailored suit as he ate, her pile of french toast suddenly unappealing. Finally she stood and walked to his end of the long table. “I know everything in the history of human knowledge that has ever been documented.” She pointed out, holding the papers out to John. “I do not need education. I don’t see why I should have to go.” That wasn’t the part that upset her the most though. Ivy was afraid. Afraid of being around other children, afraid she would not be able to behave normally, and above all, she was afraid of the other papers that sat with her school registration forms.
“Ivy,” John used the name carefully. “Schooling is what normal children do, and I have learned that the best place to hide is often in plain sight. Normal children go to school, and you will go to school.” He took another bite of his own meal, chewing thoroughly before he gave her a firm look. John could tell that there was something deeper than going to school upsetting her.
She looked down at the paperwork, her lip trembling slightly. “I like my name.” She protested weakly, tugging on the necklace John had given her months ago nervously. “I am Ivy. It is who I am.” She said with as much conviction as she could, which frankly was very little. “Mr. Dresden gave me my name, and...”
“Names have power.” John finished the sentence quickly. He set down his fork and reached for the child’s trembling fingers. “Too many know that The Archive is also called Ivy. I cannot allow anyone to have that kind of power over you.” He said as he wrapped his fingers around hers.
Ivy stared down at his larger, more weathered, hands covering hers. She’d expected him to lay down the law, and not give her a choice in the matter. What Ivy hadn’t expected, though, was that John seemed to....care. The Archive had deduced that the Baron of Chicago wanted to keep it safe from a purely business standpoint, but Ivy...Ivy didn’t know what was the right thing to feel. Gratitude, affection, fear? Perhaps a little of all three and even more. What was the proper response to this? She just didn’t know.
So Ivy simply looked up at him and nodded. “Sofia. From the Greek word meaning wisdom.” She said as a quiver crept into her voice. It was pretty. Beautiful even.
John nodded and let go of her hands, resting one of his own on her shoulder. “Your middle name will be Antonia,” he said simply as the little girl nodded. “Because knowledge is invaluable, and so is the Archive,” she said. John shook his head then, a rare warm smile growing. “No, Ivy.” He said gently, smiling ever so slightly. “You are what is invaluable.”
Ivy glanced down at the papers again, noting the last name. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth and tugged at her still growing out hair nervously. She could do this. She had lived though worse than school and a new name in the past. “If that is what you wish. Father.” She nodded a few times before John gave her another smile.
“Dad is better.” He pointed out. Ivy looked at him and cleared her throat, the word hard to say the first time. “Alright. Dad.”
“Daddy said you gotta show the world the thunder.”
Seven years after Small Favor
Sofie, as everyone had called her for years now, ran like hell, just like he’d told her to if something like this were to ever happen. She hadn’t gotten a good enough look at what had attacked her and John Marcone to know what she was even running from, or worse, what her father was staying back to protect her from.
It took her blocks to find the nearest place she knew was safe. Years ago John had written down the names and addresses of every safe haven he had in the city, along with showing his daughter pictures to be sure she would never ever forget. Then the information was promptly burned so no one else would know that secret.
Sofie was panting when she reached the familiar building. The teenager tore open the door to the kitchen of a supper club, rushing into the chaos before her feet finally stopped moving. The manager shot her a look and nodded before he pointed to an office. Sofie nodded in return and walked backwards to place her hand on the doorknob.
The door was already unlocked.
John Marcone sat in the chair behind the desk, blood still crusting his fingernails despite the fact he’d washed when he’d gotten here. His head was resting in his hands when he heard the door open and looked up suddenly. John exhaled in relief as tears started to pour down Sofie’s cheeks.
She hurried over to the desk. “I could have helped you.” Sofie whispered before John snapped “NO!” at her with more fear and guilt than anger in his voice. He stood, bridging the distance between them quickly. “No one can ever know you are what you are, Sofia.”
“But...” She reached out for his hands, like she did so often when she felt her control of her emotions slipping. “It could have killed you.” She sobbed as her trembling fingers rubbed over his as if she was making sure he was really there and not some stress-induced hallucination or worse. It had happened before, after all.
“He did not. I killed him,” John said firmly and without hesitation. It had been a very long time since he’d gotten his hands truly dirty, but this was a special case. If the creature who was now a bloody corpse had wanted to hurt Marcone or The Archive or both he didn’t know, but John would not take that chance. “Without magic. And anyone who was working with him will know not to try anything like that again.”
Sofie sniffled, not wanting to cry in front of him. It was pointless to be upset over what had happened. She was who she was, and that came with dangers like this. More to the point, he was who he was, and she knew that he did things no one else would do; things that some called criminal. Violent, despicable, even evil things. But he always had a reason. Keeping her safe was a very, very good reason. “I’m sorry.” She choked back a panicked sob as the lighting in the building dimmed a bit. Sofie looked up and whimpered harder, knowing her emotional reaction was causing that. “I was afraid and I...was weak.” She looked down at the floor. “I was stupid.” Sofie sobbed quietly.
John knelt down so he could look up at his daughter though she refused to raise her head. “You’re not stupid, and you are not weak,” he assured her as he rested a still slightly bloodied hand on her chin. “It is time you learn how things really work for me and my city.” John decided out loud. “It is the only way to keep you safe.”
Sofie choked back a sob but nodded before she flung her arms around John’s neck just like she had years ago. He twisted his arms around her, holding tight as he let her cry, trying not to get emotional himself.
Sofie nuzzled against John as she cried and cried over the inevitable duties she knew she’d have to do if she followed in his ‘professional’ footsteps. She’d never deluded herself about who he was, even though John had gone to great lengths to shield her from his more criminal activities. However, what happened that afternoon changed everything.
“Do you want to leave?” John finally asked. It wasn’t an option he ever gave anyone after they’d seen his world, but she wasn’t just anyone. “I won’t force you to do this. You’re eighteen now.” He pointed out smoothly, though his fear that she may really want to leave him was clear.
Sofie smiled then, almost laughing as she shook her head. He’d always tried so hard to protect her, and now it was time to return that favor, in any way she could. “No. I don’t want to go.” She said honestly before she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I want to be just like my Daddy.”
“We had a good run, even I have to admit.”
Fifty years after Small Favor
It was like watching his own bittersweet memories as John watched The Archive asleep in a bed with the all too familiar troubled expression of nightmares on her face. Even though both he and Harry had done everything in their power to keep their daughter sane under the pressure of bearing the Archive, it wasn’t enough. Eventually, The Archive’s burden was too much, and she slipped away into madness.
She was old enough to be mistaken for John’s sister by now. The Archive was, sadly, mortal, and age took its toll on her body. The staff at the private mental hospital that John had had built didn’t comment that neither John nor Harry aged quite like her, or perhaps they didn’t even notice. The only time the staff ever did worry was when Sofia woke from her drug induced slumbers. Her eyes would snap open as her pulse rose, showing she was suddenly fully awake and aware despite sedation. Sofia sounded deadly serious as she spat out the need to see Harry or John immediately followed by a cryptic string of words that made sense to no one in the room after they’d arrive.
Well... no one but her, Harry or John.
“We gotta go, she said it’s happening tonight and the sun’s already set.” Harry pulled on John’s arm as the other man stared at the once again sleeping Archive. This most recent frantic riddle of a statement was once again exactly the information they had needed to save multiple worlds. Just as she always did, Sofia had fallen back into her drug induced sleep before they’d gotten to say a word in response. The ‘predictions’ were too draining, and both men knew it took every ounce of will the old woman had to break though the torments in her mind to tell them what they need to hear.
John nodded in agreement, glancing back at a bloodied and battle-torn Harry with his own tired eyes in a silent pleading gesture. Harry nodded and stepped outside. John leaned down, pressing a kiss to the Archive’s forehead as she slept - an unspoken ‘thank you’ before he joined Harry again and they ran off into the night.