Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files. This is only to keep myself entertained while I wait for Side Jobs and Ghost Story...I hate waiting...
So, this is my first try at anything Dresden Files. I've come up with a few ideas before, but I never actually wrote them. It is a post-Changes oneshot, and while I know there'll be something in Side Jobs set right after it, this is set a few months after it, and I'm sure it's a bit AU judging from what I've heard of Ghost Story. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please don't forget to review - I'd love to know what people think of it.
Harry Dresden. He died doing the right thing.
That was what his gravestone said. But he didn't die doing the right thing. He died in a way that no one ever thought he could. A sniper got him. A sniper. Chicago's only professional wizard was killed – murdered – by a sniper. After facing everything from murderous warlocks to insane fairies, it was an ordinary gunman that took him down.
Life is not the same for any of us without him. It can't be. I knew Harry for more than a decade. I can't even bring myself to remind myself that he's dead.
I've caught myself dialing his number when SI has a tough case that could use his expertise. Then I realize that he'll never pick up the phone again. No more banter before he comes waltzing onto the scene in his usual manner. No more supernatural trouble banging down my door. No more Harry.
It's been three months, and I'm still not used to it. I don't know if I ever will be. Losing people is always difficult, but after all we went through together. It seems unreal sometimes. There are times when all I feel is numb. I expect him to come through a door or call me because he needs my help. But he doesn't. He never will. I have to keep reminding myself of that, even after so long.
Thomas has been incommunicado since Harry's death and the funeral. Big brother guilt complex, I think. He gave Harry the boat to live in, and Harry got killed on it. It wasn't Thomas's fault, but I think he feels like it is.
Molly comes around every few days. She told me that she has decided that she is going to go to college and make something of herself that her parents can be proud of. She does not know if she will continue to use her powers as Harry did, or lay them down. She misses him as much as I do. And she is tormented by the fact that she was not there to help him when he was murdered.
The worst time is when I go home at night. Mister wandered the ruins of Harry's apartment until someone at Animal Control was called. They failed to get Mister under any sort of control. I don't know who it was who put the idea in their head to call me, but I'm glad they did. Mouse is with Maggie. It seems only fitting that she has her father's guardian and I have his cat.
Mister wanders around the house sometimes as if he sees something. He winds himself around invisible things, purring deep in his chest. I don't know what he sees.
But I see things, too. I'm not crazy. I see him. I wake up in the middle of the night and I see something hovering over my bed. Sometimes it seems blurry. Other times it's sharp and in focus. It looks like Harry, clad in his duster, with his shield bracelet and the pentacle necklace lit very faintly, staff in hand.
I know that it isn't him. It cannot be. Harry is dead. He's gone.
That doesn't stop me from seeing him. Sometimes it's on the street corners as I drive to work. Sometimes it's in the gym when I'm sparing – I'll see him, get distracted, and end up on the mat. By that time, he's always gone. Once, I even saw him when Michael and Charity had a barbeque for their eldest son's birthday. He was there, watching us. Sanya was there, too. He said he could feel something watching over us, like a guardian, but not a guardian angel.
After knowing Harry for so long, I know he would come back if he could. But as a ghost? I'm not sure.
Maybe it is him. Maybe it's not – it might just be a figment of my imagination, brought on by grief. I miss him. He always came within a hair's length of getting killed before, doing the noble thing, or what he felt was right.
Know this, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. If you're listening out there, no matter where you are – Heaven, Hell, or as a ghost on this earth – we miss you. We loved you. I loved you. You were a good man. If you're listening, know that you will never die as long as one of your friends lives.
Maybe we'll even die doing the right thing. When the last of us are gone, your memory will die with us.
I loved you, Harry. I couldn't admit it. I thought that we could never work. But I loved you all the same.
You are missed.
Harry Dresden. He died doing the right thing.
Maybe he did.
