This is a short Dresden/Justine piece set around the end of Grave Peril. It was originally written in August of 2011 and hosted inside Work by Author on DarkLordPotter. I figured it was about time that I uploaded it to for the rest of you guys who don't follow my work off of here.
The original piece was a continuous series of snippets, I've separated it into 3 'chapters' for reading convenience, separating them at the appropriate milestones. Enjoy.
Organic Instability
Part One
—~—
It hadn't been more than a day since I had gotten home from the hospital before there was someone knocking at my door. Twilight had begun to set, and the city lights of Chicago were beginning to filter through the dusty highset windows in my apartment.
I made my way towards the front door and glanced through the peephole. A newly familiar face resided on the other side, a face both lovely and sweet, and one I wasn't entirely thrilled to see again so soon, but none the less I began to unlock the door.
And the words*—whatever they had been died on my lips without so much as a sound.
A figure, barely five-five stood. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her arms were wrapped around her mid-section. Gooseflesh could be seen on her exposed skin… and considering that she was naked as the day she had been born there was a significant amount of it. Black hair framed her face as her dark eyes flickered over my face, alive and at the same time dulled.
It was a cold night—I notice these kind of things.
The last time I had seen Justine had been over a week prior as she and Susan assisted me and my broken body in escaping from the burning manor that I had set on fire. She had been wearing little more than rags then.
What she was wearing now was substantially less.
A pure white bow was wrapped around her neck, and attached to it was a small card.
"…Justine," I finally managed to say, words managing to form upon my lips against all odds. She didn't respond, and simply continued to stand in my doorway.
It took me a few more seconds to realize that the card attached to the ribbon had some words on it. It was a thank you note from Thomas, for saving Justine specifically. I swallowed and shook myself out of my flesh induced stupor. It was at that point that I realized that she was standing in plain sight for everyone to see. I reached forwards and grasped her soft, smooth hand, tugging her forwards into my apartment before shutting the door behind her.
"Justine—what the hell?" I demanded to know as I turned to face her.
She smiled sweetly up at me, demure and enticing. "Thomas wanted to offer you his appreciation for saving me, Mister Dresden," she explained in a soft voice.
"By sending you to me naked?" I said incredulously.
Justine nodded, her arms dropping from her stomach to her sides, unashamedly revealing her slender, scrumptious form. She looked a few shades healthier than I remembered. "Thomas knew you wouldn't accept money for helping us, and he noticed that during the… party your gaze lingered upon me." She bit a small lip between her teeth.
"I… I wanted to thank you as well. I remember it, in the manor, with you… when... that thing was inside me… and when I cried... you comforted me, even though you were dying." Her smouldering eyes met mine, and I felt a tug, that I barely managed to avoid by looking away.
"Look," I began. "I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept…" You. But I couldn't very well say that.
"Why did you bring me into your home then?" Justine asked, her dark eyes confused as she looked to me.
"Because you were butt-naked on the street," I said incredulously. "What did you think I was going to do, leave you out there to freeze?
"Thomas left the moment you closed the door," Justine said calmly, "He told me if you accepted then he would come back tomorrow morning to pick me up."
I grimaced and spared her one last glance. "Alright, look. Take a seat and I'll get you something to put on." I said and gestured towards the lounge room, before briskly heading away from the saucy little psychotic minx. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a hint of supple derriere, one that artists and poets alike would have immortalized in centuries past.
Don't get me wrong, Justine was definitely pretty enough, and sweet enough when she wasn't walking the razor's edge of an organic emotional instability—and I couldn't really hold that against her, but there was far too much ick factor with sharing a girl with a sex vampire.
I entered my room and went to a draw, opening it and sorting through it for something reasonable for the young girl to wear. I fished out an old white t-shirt that hadn't seen the light of day in months, but was still clean. It came to my waist when I wore it on a slender short girl like Justine I'd be surprised if didn't reach her knees.
When I returned to the lounge room, I found Justine standing in the same position, looking around at the rustic interior of the lounge room, a faint curiosity glimmering inside her eyes as she eyed my antique bookcase filled with books of years past and rarely used video cassettes.
I held out the shirt to her. "Here."
Justine turned her gaze away from the bookcase and briefly looked at the shirt, before accepting it and sliding it on over her head. As I expected the hem of the shit reached her lower thighs, covering all the wonderful sections of flesh that I was already missing.
Justine murmured a thank you, smiling at me in the same way as before.
"Do you know Thomas' phone number?" I asked.
"No. He hasn't replaced his phone since your magic fried it," Justine explained calmly. "He isn't looking forwards to explaining to his father why he wasn't inside the manor when it burned down.
"And you don't know where he is staying tonight, do you?"
Justine turned to face me and gave me a small smile.
"I figured," I said and let out a long breath. "Alright, cut to the chase, what do you want?" My tone calm and entirely reasonable, all things considered.
Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch, showing the whites around her iris. Her lips parted slightly and she seemed to shrink back. "Mister Dresden," she murmured quietly. "Thomas sent me here to convey... his gratitude for saving me from Bianca."
I held up a hand to stop her. "See, that's what I don't get. He's thanking me by sending you to me, who he is thanking me for saving." "That doesn't make much sense to me."
Justine's eyes, wide and dilated, now that I took a brief moment to look, gleamed in a haze of drug-like euphoria. Hell's bells, I doubted she even knew what she was doing here.
"Thomas noticed," Justine repeated after a moment. "How you looked at me those nights ago." "He knew you wouldn't accept any money for compensation."
"I would have," I said with blunt honestly and no shame.
The dark haired beauties lips pursed, and she matched my gaze unwaveringly, forcing me to look away. Most people, you'll find have a hard time meeting and maintaining another person's gaze. Go ahead, go out and try it. Walk up to a random stranger and look them directly in the eye. After a few seconds the barriers will drop and you'll feel as if your deepest secrets are being exposed.
Wizard's stray to the literal side of the equation. When a wizard looks into you, they look into you, and look upon your very soul. It isn't a one sided affair. For every soul I've looked upon, and had burned into my memory in pure technicolour, for every person who has claimed a piece of my memory for themselves, each of them has a shard of a glimpse of my own soul within them.
Justine, had no such compulsions. She took a step towards me, and brought a hand up to her chest, holding her palm over the curve of a breast. "Mister Dresden," she said softly, her voice sweet and warm. She stepped closer, and the hand upon her chest reached up and touched upon mine. Her body melded against mine in the most pleasant of fashions, spreading warmth through my body as she buried her face upon the hollow of my throat, sending electricity racing down my spine.
I allowed my eyes to flutter closed and took stock of my thought processes and as I did, exhaling in a long slow breath. I drew my hands up and set them upon Justine's shoulders, drawing her backwards, off of my front.
It was too easy to forget. Justine was too young, too sweet, too unconsciously sexy and seemingly gentle. But behind that exterior, laid a strength and madness that had been ready to throw my friends and I to the monsters if we had refused to help her.
When I opened my eyes again, I found Justine's large doe-like eyes staring up at me, lust smouldering in their depths, uninhibited, held back by restraint gained from the monster that had her enthralled.
"You can sleep in my bed," I stated after a moment. "I'll take the lounge, and first thing tomorrow you're gone."
Justine bit down on her bottom lip uncertainly, sending a wave of desire pushing through me, despite myself. No matter what the situation was, she was a beautiful girl, and my body was all too willing. The dark haired girl gave a small nod to herself, before smiling up at me faintly.
"Thank you Mister Dresden,"
"Call me Harry."
"Thank you, Harry," she corrected herself softly.
It was at that point my stomach rumbled.
My cheeks tinged a light red and Justine's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Would you like me to cook dinner for you, Mist… Harry?" Justine asked with a glimmer of hope in her voice.
I blinked, and looked at Justine, as if seeing her for the first time.
My apartment was on fire, and it wasn't my fault.
Justine was slumped in a corner, staring wide eyed at the immolated kitchen, her eyes, ever lovely were filled with a naked fear of the flames that were currently reducing my belongings to cinders.
It had been a small mercy that I had been watching her as she went about preparing to cook, and for the first time I had incontrovertible proof that she was a talent.
How else could she have been capable of burning water?
I rushed back into the kitchen, a bucket full of water from the laundry and threw it at the roaring inferno. There was a splash, and a hiss and the flames found themselves doused in non-flammable water. As the fire died down I saw the remains of my stove. The white plastic-like paint had been charred to a grim black where it remained, and where it had been utterly burned through there was a thin film of char covering the metal stove top.
I let out a long breath and stared at it, mourning the loss of the grand or so it'd take to get the damage fixed. I winced. There went what pittance I had in savings.
"O-oh god, I'm so sorry Harry!" Justine stammered out as she stared at the drenched and charred kitchen in front of her.
I glanced back at her tiny form huddled up against the wall and sighed, dropping the bucket. It clanked against the ground causing the girl to flinch. "Are you alright?"
Justine twitched her head in a faint nod. "I... I never thought... cooking would be so dangerous..." she whispered, and wrapped her arms around herself, holding herself in a tight embrace as her gaze flickered between the stove and me.
"…Normally it isn't," I admitted, my voice strained as I offered her a hand.
Justine stared at it for a moment before reaching up and grasping my too large hand in her own, pulling herself up to her feet. She stumbled as she reached her full height and I found her pressed against my front. She buried her face upon my chest and wrapped her arms around my chest, holding herself tightly to me.
I stared down at her awkwardly, before slowly wrapping my arm around her, giving her a pat on the back. "—Er… There, there," I attempted lamely.
She sniffled and mumbled a sorry as she clung to me.
"It…it's fine," I said after a moment. "...I wanted to replace that old thing anyway," I tried to rationalize why I wasn't enraged at my property being torched. On an instinctual level I knew it was because Justine was all too feminine, and all too close to me for me to even consider lashing out verbally. I let my head drop a fraction of an inch forwards, and my nose found itself brushing against the crest of her hair, and the scent of wild strawberries mixed with burned paint began to overwhelm me.
"We should get out of here," I said and gently began to nudge Justine towards the door. She nodded against my chest and shuffled along with me, not willing to let go just yet.
She mumbled another apology through a faint sniffle and tilted her head back, looking up at me. "…Harry."
I said nothing until I had managed to get her into the lounge room and shut the kitchen door behind me. The smell of burned paint was strong in here as well. "How about Pizza?" I offered after a moment of silence.
"…I like pizza," Justine murmured quietly and gave a small abashed smile.
"Pizza it is," I agreed, smiling down at her and stepping away. "Why don't you take a load off?" I gestured towards the couch.
Justine nodded and glanced over at the couch before heading over and sitting down demurely, causing the long shirt to rise up her thighs and… I couldn't look away. It took Justine a few seconds to notice I was staring, and then her cheeks flushed a lovely pink, and her hands tugged on the end of the shirt, covering herself up. "…Mister Dresden," she said in an embarrassed little voice, looking away and crossing her ankles.
My gaze snapped away and I uttered a half-hearted apology before I mechanically, stiffly walked over to the phone and punched in the number for my local pizza joint.
Authentic Nicks Pizza—not to be confused with Terrific' Authentic Nicks Pizza, had the best pizzas this side of the wall. The phone rang ten times before a voice answered on the other end. Which meant they were having a slow night. They made it a policy to never answer early if it was a slow night. On the flipside, if the phone didn't hit the third ring the pizza wouldn't be delivered for the better part of an hour.
It seemed I was in luck.
I placed the order after getting a mumbled 'Vegetarian' from Justine when I enquired as to what type of animal carcass she wanted on her pizza. I dropped the phone back onto it's hook and turned back towards the lounge.
"It'll be about fifteen minutes." "I understand."
I watched as Justine fidgeted, looking around my apartment at the various oddities that were no doubt strewn across it.
"You have video tapes, but no television," Justine said suddenly, and looked up at me. "Why?"
"They were gifts, you don't throw out gifts."
She nodded and continued to fidget, rubbing her thighs together, no doubt to get warm, considering she was only wearing a shirt.
"Do you want me to try and find you... uh... some clothes that might fit?" I asked awkwardly, trying to picture her slender figure sitting into my comparably massive pants or boxers.
She gave a short nod and bit down on her bottom lip in that adorable mannerism that preceded a question from her. "Would it be alright if I had a shower?" she asked.
I blinked at the request, but nodded. "Yeah, of course," I said and gestured for her to follow me, before leading her back to the bathroom a few rooms away. I pointed towards a cupboard inside the bathroom beside the bathtub. "Towels are in there." I glanced around the bathroom, taking in the lack of... anything really in it.
There was a half empty can of shaving cream, and no razor, the soap had been used up- I needed more, and the shampoo was a generic brand that I had purchased in bulk that smelled like a cross between a shot of whisky and old spice.
A far cry from the five star hotels she was no doubt used to.
It was why I found myself stunned in confusion as she gave a lovely smile that seemed to send a ticklish warmth up my chest. "It's perfect," she said in her soft voice as she eyed the mirror that had gone a month without being wiped down, the frosted glass of the shower and the brass clothes hooks that sat upon the wall.
"Right, well, I'll be in the lounge room if you need me," I informed her and stepped out, casting half a glance back as I did, just in time to see the soft curve of derrière as she began to lift my shirt up. I quickly averted my gaze, despite having seen all of it- and more already.
As soon as I shut the door behind me, I took three steps away and faced a wall, before lightly smacking my forehead against it. I hadn't been prepared to play to anyone, much less a small, young, impressionable drugged up... lovely girl who had come here with every intention of... of what I did not even know.
She had proven herself to be determined, guileful, deceitful and not shy of using threats to get her way. She was quite literally, an emotional roller-coaster who was terrifyingly capable of turning her charms to her use, as she had proven at the Masquerade.
It was at that point that I realized the ringing in my head wasn't from the repeated thuds of my head against the wall, but knocks on the front door.
I let out a long breath. Come on Harry, get your game face on, I berated myself, steely my features as I headed to the door, grabbing my wallet on the way. I absently noted the round of the shower being turned on, and the creek of the pipes inside the walls as I opened the front door.
The sun had long since set and the night was illuminated from lampposts and the scant light that escaped from houses through their blinds. The stars overhead had been shrouded in the artificial light from the city.
A stubble covered face greeted me on my door step, in a familiar uniform that consisted of a blue and red polo shirt and a matching truckers cap with 'Nicks emblazoned on a pizza logo. It had the name Freddy in capitals stitched into the fabric. The shirt hung loosely, it was for a much larger man. It had a fairly new stain of shirt on the cuff.
This was obviously not Freddy.
"You're not Freddy." I stated bluntly.
The man before me raised a brown eyebrow that disappeared into his hairline. "Yeah no kidding, what gave it away?" he said in an unfamiliar accent with what could be considered a waspish tone. He pulled a ticket out of his pocket. "Dresden, One polka-dot pig and greens," he recited, his eyes flickering up to me. "That'll be twenty bucks."
I blinked at that. In the four years I'd been a customer they'd never dropped their prices. I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I shoved two tens into his hand and took the pizzas from him. They were heavy with the weight of the delicious food inside.
I could just smell it, warm freshly made.
Not Freddy glanced down at the two notes in his hand and raised an eyebrow at me.
Oh what the hell? I had been prepared to spend an extra five. I dropped an extra note into his hand and received a sharp nod in return before he turned and left, no doubt off to deliver more pizzas.
Using my incredible balancing skills, I lifted a foot up and used it to swing the door shut with a meaty thud off oak against metal. As the door closed, I frowned, and sniffed the air again. The familiar, warm gooey smell of pizza was decidedly lacking, as was the warmth from the pizza boxes.
Come to think of it, it had only been about seven minutes.
I walked into the dining room and dropped the boxes onto the table, before flipping open the lid of the top one. I stared down at the multi-coloured monstrosity sitting before me for a few seconds, and slowly digested what I was seeing, and as I did a frown came to my lips.
The pizza hadn't even been cooked.
I prodded it with a finger.
The dough was still raw.
The cheese hadn't been melted.
They had just shoved the pizza in the box and sent it on it's way.
I grimaced and closed the pizza box.
O'pizza why hath thou forsaken I?
Despite my better judgement, I shifted the box aside and set it down on the table beside the unopened box, before resigning myself to what I was no doubt going to see.
I flipped the lid up and found myself staring at something incomprehensible.
I stared for a few seconds longer, before the bottom of my stomach seemed to vanish. Suddenly the very concept off dinner seemed to absurd that I couldn't help but let out a strained laugh.
Since when had Nicks' started selling pipe-bomb pizza?
I swallowed the lump that had appeared in my throat and stared at the smallish explosive cylinder and took reign of the terror that found itself bubbling up inside me. I couldn't afford the chance that an errant twitch of emotion could give off enough of a magical discharge that it prematurely set off the timer.
I had to remain calm.
It was of course, at this moment that Justine came stumbling through the doorway leading to the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her still dripping form, her hair clumped up against her skull, her skin pale and at the same time her cheeks burned a bright pink. "H-harry," she called my name, her teeth chattering as she walked over to me. "T-there's n-no hot water." she stammered out as she tugged the towel tighter around her slender form,
I blinked. I had forgotten to tell her as much. I had become used to it, it hadn't occurred to me that she would have liked to know. Now that I think about it, maybe that had been why Susan had never...
A stab of pain lanced through my heart and I immediately shifted my attention away from the emotional matter, steeling my nerves as I looked down at the open pizza box.
Justine, as cold as she was, was quick to notice that my gaze had not strayed near her, despite her approaching me. Her gaze peeked over the lid of the pizza box, and what little colour she had in her cheeks seemed to bleach out until her skin was one smooth expanse of creamy white.
"M-Mister Dresden." Justine stared at the pizza-bomb, her eyes caught somewhere between dilating and constricting due to the conflicting signals of her mental state. "W-why is there a type-54 class pipe bomb inside the pizza you ordered?" She whispered, her voice low and fearful.
I blinked and looked up at her. "How the he—I mean, you know what this is?" I demanded to know in disbelief.
Justine gave a short nod and bit down sweetly on her bottom lip. "Y-you need to throw it into the street before it explodes," the young girl spoke, her voice hurried.
I shook my head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks," I said immediately. "There'd been too much collateral damage, and someone could get hurt."
Justine stared at me in disbelief. "If you don't—we'll both die!" she cried out and moved forwards, her towel falling away and pooling at her feet as she gripped my arm with her slender hands. "Mis—Harry, please, just throw it down into the drain—anything!"
I gave a fierce jerk of my head. "No!" I snapped out, casting her a brief glare. "There's no safe place to throw it, I need to defuse it," I spat out, angry at myself for having wasted money on ordering a freaking rain cheque on life.
That bastard had made me tip him.
I wasn't going to stand for it.
I—
Justine's hands flashed down from my forearm into the pizza box, gripping the metallic cylinder. The world seemed to slow down as I watched her deft fingers slide over the small package of explosive death, and I saw my life flash before my eyes, parts of it anyway, the violent parts.
Justine gave a tight twist and popped the end of the pipe bomb off before the detonator, timer and satchel of what looked to be a small chunk of c4 dropped into her hand. She tossed the casing aside and her fingers blurred before a vicious swipe of her hand tore the wiring out from the detonator and timer.
My heart stopped.
And then the strangest thing happened.
It continued to beat.
—~—