Harry looked beat up. This wasn't new thing since he usually looked some shade of really-should-be-going-to-a-hospital-but-just-manning-it-through-since-everything-would-explode-around-me-and-also-pretending-I'm-not-hurt-really at the end of their little 'adventures', but this wasn't the same. It wasn't just his hand, he hadn't looked this worn down since Susan had got vampired.

Oh Shit.

Susan hadn't gone completely vampire had she? Murphy wouldn't have missed that. There had been vampires involved, but they were a different type.

Murphy wandered over and sat by Harry on the curb. He had his head bowed and didn't acknowledge her at first. She waited. Pushing him never worked, at least not in emotional matters. When he was being stupid she would shove his ass all over the place, and when he was being "chivalrous"… well. But with his emotions he was so unused to trusting people that if he were pushed he would run and hide in a little corner, so she waited.

"I had an argument with Ebenezer."

Murphy didn't know Ebenezer McCoy was, but she had been looking forward to finding out. To say Harry had a problem with authority was an understatement. To say it was well earned was an even bigger understatement. His father had been possibly the only positive authority figure in his life and he had died far too soon. Then Justin DuMorne, apart from being an abusive and manipulative asshole, had tried to corral Harry into what were, essentially, wizarding capital crimes, which led Harry to commit murder in what Murphy saw as the best case for self-defence she had ever seen. But still, she didn't want to think what committing murder had done to little Harry's psyche. But that led to the White Council, who took this scared boy and decided to treat him like a hardened criminal, only just letting him off a death penalty. And, if what Harry said was any indication, still acted like a bunch of bureaucratic bastards.

And then there was this man who Harry called 'sir'.

She waited.

Harry gritted his teeth, forcing the words out, "He taught me everything I believe about magic, I based everything I do around him. He taught me that magic comes from life, from the heart. That we have a responsibility to use it wisely. To be kind. Honourable. Wise. He taught me … And it turns out he's a big fucking hypocrite. He's the Council's wetworks man. When a problem gets a little … unfortunate he's the guy they turn to. He's got a license to kill, to use black magic. All the talk about the sanctity of life and they've got him tucked in the closet when things get a little messy." Harry took a long shuddery breath and Murphy wrapped her arms around him, slowly rubbing his back, a warm, physical reminder that she was there. She worked to contain her anger, getting angry would do nothing at this point; Harry needed to let it all out, he needed to deal with his emotions, not deal with her being protective.

"I trusted him, Murph. I trusted him," he sounded so much like a child that Murphy felt her heart break a little. Trust, Murphy had come to learn, was difficult for Harry. More than difficult.

And this man had broken it. Murphy wanted to break something of his in return.

"Do you know the worst of it? The Council sent me to him because he was under orders to kill me if I got a little rebellious. He didn't, so I suppose I have to thank him for that. He could have told me. Not then, but sometime. He knew my mother, you know? Hell's bells, he taught her, and he never thought to mention it, even though he knows how much it means to me…" he slumped, as if he could no longer contain his own weight.

Murphy drew Harry to her, wrapping her arms around him, and whispered, "I'm here." It seemed a little weak, but it was the only the thing she could say, the reassurance of friendship and camaraderie. That she, at least, wouldn't betray him.

Harry mumbled something unintelligible in reply, she made a, "Huh?" sound and he looked up at her, in her eyes, daring the pressure of the soulgaze.

He looked away just in time, smiled tiredly and said, "Thank you." He didn't say for what, he didn't need to. She knew that sometimes just being there, a solid presence when everything else felt uncertain was enough.

They had been that solid presence for each other many times over the years.

Eventually she pulled away and pulled him upwards, "C'mon," she said, "I'm taking you home," when he didn't make a wiseass comment she knew just how serious things were. He gave a small grunt and she said, "No, I'm not letting you drive right now. You can't beat vampires just to die in a car crash, Dresden," he snorted and she took that as an agreement, so she took a breath and said, "You can sleep in my guest room."

"Murph-" he started to object, but she cut him off.

"You're seven shades of beaten up right now, I don't want you bleeding out because I dropped you off to your little hole with no one to help. Besides, if I don't have to make the detour to your place, I get to my bed faster, so you're coming with me. And I don't want you driving with-" she had been about to say 'only one hand', but mentioning the state of his hand, acknowledging the fact it would most likely never heal, seemed … bad luck somehow.

Anyway, they both knew she wasn't insisting he stay at her house because he was beaten up physically, but neither of them said anything.

…

Harry woke, managed not to scream as his hand burned, and started to stretch before pausing.

"Well, I never thought I'd be the little spoon."

A snort came from behind him, "Now I know you're better if you can crack off 'jokes', wiseass."

Harry grinned and looked around the room. Yup, still Murphy's guest room. He vaguely remembered having a nightmare and supposed Murph had taken the direct route in calming him down. It had probably been quite bad then. He remembered terror and guilt, visceral shadows of emotion that made him shiver even with the half memory. Yeah, that had been a doozy.

Murphy was already getting out of bed, "Well I don't know about you, but some of us have a job to get to," she said. "I'm going to have a fun time with paperwork. As usual." She looked at Harry, who was valiantly trying not curl up into a little ball, "I'll get you some painkillers," she said.

Harry was very tempted to stay in the nice, warm bed, but Thomas was going to be moving in and a certain puppy chose that moment to make himself known. Harry sighed, got out of bed, clumsily got dressed, and followed Murphy down to the kitchen. She was getting out food, Mouse jumping at her feet. The picture was so painfully domestic it made something swell uncomfortably in his chest.

Stop it. You're not attracted to Murphy. She's your best friend. Your best friend who casually got into bed with you because you had a nightmare.

Godammit, what was happening to him? Everything was perfectly normal then there was the dress and Kincaid taking her pants off and suddenly he was deciding he wanted to-

"What's on your mind?"

Okay, better not go there.

Harry smiled. "Just thinking. I have a brother. Family. It's weird, y'know?"

It wasn't exactly a lie, so he didn't feel guilty when Murphy gave a reassuring smile and said, "You'll be fine. You'll figure it out, everyone does, and remember, nobody really knows what they're doing. Now, move it, Lump. I'll give you a lift to your car."

Harry grinned as he folded himself into Murphy's car. He had his friends. Hell, he had a brother. Mouse yipped from the back of the car, reminding him that he even had a dog (so long as Mister didn't eat him). So what if he had a bad track record with mentors? He wasn't doing so badly. He'd be okay.