Written in honor of a classmate of mine, a couple of years older than me, who's funeral was today. Even though I didn't know him very well, he was the one who originally recommended The Dresden Files to me. Rest in peace, Justin.
Murphy
Dammit. No. This wasn't happening. Completely impossible – Dresden dying is not an option. No. If there's one thing I learned since becoming friends with Dresden, it's that he can survive anything. Absolutely anything – No matter what the odds.
The blood on the boat didn't mean a damn thing. No. Dresden was still alive – He had to be. Because Harry Dresden doesn't just die. And if he did, he'd make a huge spectacle of it, make sure everyone was watching. He definitely wouldn't die with absolutely no witnesses and not even a sign left behind other than splattered blood. Until a body was found, Dresden was alive in my mind.
Will
…Harry? Dead? No. That can't be right. Harry never dies. Even when you think he's done for, he pops right back up. Usually with a gun or his staff, but he always comes back. How is he dead? That shouldn't be possible, right?
What are we going to do now that he's gone? Harry was…Harry. We couldn't keep going without Harry. He was the glue that held Chicago's supernatural community together. Without him, there would be chaos.
Ah, shit. This won't be easy.
Molly
No.
No.
No.
Even knowing it was coming, I was still shocked. I had a hand in it, I planned it. And yet some part of me was hoping that Harry would find some way to survive. That Kincaid wouldn't' go through with it. Anything. But here, knowing that he truly was gone…It hit me harder than I had expected.
I sank to the floor, the coffee cup that was in my hands prior falling to the ground with a resounding shatter. I think I started crying. But I'm not sure. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.
Harry was gone. And I was responsible.