Favor

Verb: resemble (a parent or other relative) in facial features.

Author's Notes: A day late, but hey, it happens. I had the day off, and something came up yesterday, so I figured hey, just post it a day later. My recente obsession with Harley Quin has evolved to the point where I've been tracking down the source comics online and reading them. This new fandom obsession is in full swing. At this point, I'm like 99% sure that my next piece is going to end up being a Batman piece centered around Harley/Ivy. I was thinking a psychological horror, actually. I haven't done a horror in a while. Could be fun.

Anyway, I'm not terribly sure how I feel about this chapter. Read it real quick, and check my concerns with it in the Lore Check at the end.

So read on as Mab totally burns Harry and Lara so hard that they have to have coffee to get over it!

Time: Post Battleground

Lara sat with her arms and legs primly crossed. Her eyes were narrowed. She drummed her fingers against one of her arms as she waited for Harry to return to the table with their orders.

It was several months after the Battle for Chicago. Thanks to the contributions of many (both mundane and supernatural) reconstructions had been coming along quickly. The café which she favored for their meetings was back up and running, and it was their first time back to it since the apocalypse was averted.

Lara watched as her… fiancé approached the table. She was… displeased, though for once not with him.

The two had just completed another meeting with Queen Mab. In it, Lara again found herself subtly attempting to convince the Winter Queen to rescind her order to the two of them.

Mab, unfortunately, had some very incorrect observations she had shared about the two of them regarding why she would not. Observations which were patently false, and needed to be refuted. Immediately.

"I," she declared when Harry sat down opposite her, "am not 'smitten' with you."

"Agreed," Harry instantly agreed, pouring just the appropriate amount of milk into her coffee for her. "Where does she get off saying things like that. I mean, I know I'm not 'whipped' either!"

"Her claim was most likely the result of her misunderstanding, no doubt brought about by how divorced she is from mortal or near mortal emotions," she added.

"Definitely," he agreed, also adding her sugar for her. "I mean, I've seen her have some spectacular miscommunications when she attempts to use modern slang."

"I am the Queen of the White Court. A succubus that preys on man. A seductress, and manipulator," she vented. "Not some blushing demure maiden."

"All of this is no doubt some insidious method of manipulation," Harry concluded, adding just the right amount of honey to the coffee: sugar was to sweeten, honey was to soften. "Well, I won't let her play that game. I'm my own man, and nothing she can say or do will change that."

He pushed the cup over to her and she took it with a dignified nod. When her fingers brushed his, the burns that showed up on them were ignored; she had become use to protection wounds from him over the last few months.

The two sat in quiet, companionable indignation for a few moments.

"Oh hell's bells," Harry finally swore sinking his head into his hands. "We're practically an old married couple at this point, aren't we?"

She did not flush at his declaration that they were practically married. She did, go red in the cheeks in anger. Pure anger. Pure murderous anger.

It was impossible! It was impossible for a member of the White Court to love!

She almost managed to convince herself, before she too sighed, and slumped over.

"Empty night," it was her turn to swear.

Damnit Thomas. How are you still ruining things? Serving as empirical evidence of the emotional capabilities of your species was not a way she would ever suspect her idiot brother to mess things up, but there it was.

"Happy anniversary," Harry advised her, almost diffidently. "Twenty this time."

This time she couldn't suppress a small flush. That would put them at 'China'. "So you're finally admitting it's an anniversary?" she instead tried to reclaim the initiative through teasing.

"It's practically fait accompli at this point," he sighed.

"I will continue to try to convince your queen of the ill-advised nature of her decision," Lara reassured him.

"You know," he raised an eyebrow at her. "I sort of expected you to be more on board with the decision."

"Ser Knight," she told him, her voice a bit cold. "I WILL have you. Do not mistake that. However, I will have you on MY terms. I've already told you, how my victory will come. To achieve anything less is unacceptable."

He stared at her for a moment, taken aback by her shameless declaration, before he began to laugh helplessly.

"Even if someone's giving you what you want, you don't want it unless you get it the way you want it?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Exactly," she nodded. Internally, she was aware of just how childish that declaration sounded, but it was still true. She had her own principles, her own pride.

Harry was silent for a while. He simply stared at his cup, swirling it in his hands. Finally, without looking up, he spoke.

"And if I asked you not to?"

Lara went completely still. Her Hunger stirred in her. It always was there, whenever her wizard was around, but it grew fiercer.

"What do you mean?" she asked eventually.

"It's getting quiet, these days," Harry admitted softly.

Lara was silent for a moment, before she reached into her purse and pulled from it a thin pair of white gloves. Donning them, she reached out, and gently cupped one of his hands.

"Harry. I am sorry for Karin."

She was. While Ms. Murphy had never taken her up on the offer of employment, their interactions had not been scarce and the other woman had earned Lara's respect. That they had been together was proven by the protection he now bore.

Lara regretted her death, not simply because Harry mourned her.

Harry was silent for a moment, before he squeezed her hand back. He cleared his throat once, roughly, then shook his head.

"I still don't understand how you can be so committed to trying to hook me up with everyone in my life but you," he grumbled.

"And I've explained the rules several times now," she reminded him, letting him change the subject.

"And they still don't make sense," he shook his head.

"That is more your lacking than the fault of the rules," she informed him. "Still… It has not grown too quiet, has it not?"

"No, I still have people. Not as many, but the ones who are still there, well, if they made it this far I doubt I can scare them off if I try."

"The ones who have staid so far, anyway," she frowned. "Unlike that dusty, hidebound old club of yours."

"Lara, leave…" he trailed off. "Alright, you know what, yeah. Screw the White Council."

"Screw 'em," she nodded. She cocked her head to the side. "Has that… innovating initiative of yours been effective?"

"You should have seen the look on some of their faces when they had to respond to me diplomatically," he smirked slightly. It was a rather devious look, and one she found quite attractive.

Several months ago, when on one of their meetings Harry had off handedly mentioned that he had been expulsed from the White Council. Despite his service and his power they had disavowed him.

Lara had been torn on how to properly respond. Should she feel smug, justified in her prediction of those around him leaving him someday? Should she feel joy, that a move which might drive him closer to her had occurred? Outraged that he had been cut off from protection in the chaos and danger of Chicago after the war?

Harry hadn't seemed too upset about it, mostly resigned. He had then, in a rather rare turn of events, asked for her help.

With her signature, placed next to Donar Vadderung's on behalf of Monoc Securities, and Molly Carpenter on behalf of the Winter Court, the Accords now recognized a new addition to their ranks: Harry Dresden, the Warden of Demonreach.

She had originally thought he had just presumptuously laid claim and named a random island he was fond of. However, when her agents reported genuine stirs in the supernatural community, she had to wonder: just what WAS that island?

While his status didn't automatically grant him any physical protection, it did grant him diplomatic options against those who might seek him.

"Then it seems as though things have not grown so quiet, nor your isolation so complete," she pointed out. "So why are you coming to me, my wizard? You are not yet broken."

She needed to hear his reasons. She wanted this, the end of this interminable, marvelous hunt she had embarked on so long ago. She wanted him as her partner, in every sense of the word.

But she had long ago predicted that this moment would only come when he had nowhere else, when he was driven to despair and needed her healing.

So why then was he coming?

"No, I'm not broken," he nodded. "I nearly was, back in the battle, but even if you break, it's not impossible to put yourself back together. It's what I've seen since then."

"What did you see?" she pushed him.

"The end," he said simply. "I saw the end of my path."

"What was it?"

"The only way it can end," he shook his head. "The White Council, they're so worried that I sold my soul, that I became a monster. What they don't realize, is that they're only half right. Selling your soul, it isn't an event, it's a spectrum.

"You see the people who need you, and you try to help them. You give yourself away, piece by piece. Sometimes to the people you know, sometimes to people who you've never met, and who will never know what you've lost for them."

"Until there is nothing left of you?" Lara asked quietly. He shook his head.

"There's always more left to lose," he told her. "It's when everyone else looks at you, and none of them can understand you anymore, when none of them can see the path that led you there, when they can't even see you as a human anymore despite what you've done for them. No matter how much you've given to them, they can only see a monster anymore."

"And you keep on, despite that."

Lara shivered at his bleak prophecy. She wondered, who was it that he had seen this fate befall?

"I understand that now," Harry continued, then met her eyes. "And I think you do to."

Lara went still.

"You are wrong," she told him. He shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he answered.

"You must be wrong."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"You cannot be correct."

"Might be. Might not be."

Lara struggled to find the words to explain to him how impossible his assumptions were. How wrong his conclusion was. She couldn't find them. She didn't know if they were there…

Even if they had been, she didn't know if they were true or not.

"Thank you for the year," he told her. "I love Karin. Her being gone doesn't change that. I want to spend the time remembering her. I want to be able to mourn. But when she finally comes back as an Einherjaren, if I'm still moping she'll kick my ass for it."

"So you are surrendering?" she asked, quietly. Her mind whirled as she tried to understand the situation. "Are you finally asking something of me?"

"Nope," he drew out the word and popped the 'p' at the end. "In one year, when we're married, I'll be there. And it's not me who's going to be asking for anything. It'll be you, deciding how much you want to give."

She remained still as he left.

*Scene Break*

Lara was late in returning to the Chateau. After her meeting with her wizard, she had gone to Zero. It didn't matter it was still early in the afternoon.

Her Hunger had been a furious need in her, one that she couldn't suppress.

She had spent many hours at the club, feeding it. There would probably be legends of her exploits in the staff and patrons that had been suborned into assisting her. She had made sure not to take enough to harm any one of them, which had meant she had to indulge in quite a number of them.

Even now, so glutted that she felt like a fat tick ready to be popped, her Hunger still was not fully satiated. After all, no matter how much it had been fed, it hadn't been fed the one it wanted.

She sat in her private office, not moving. Not working.

Her mind raced. At Harry's decision, at his reasons, at his insinuation.

Without warning, she brought both her fists down on her desk, with all her strength. It shattered, spraying office supplies like a pinata. Her computer tumbled toward her, and with a wordless cry of rage she caught it, and threw it to smash against the wall.

For several minutes all she could do was rage.

Finally, panting, she came back to herself. Her office was ruined. Secondary wounds from wood and glass were healing on her arms, her skin pale and faintly luminescent in the dark. She collapsed onto a broken sofa (meant as much as place for her guests to sit, and as much for them to indulge). The sounds of her security rushing to the noise already greeted her ears.

The perils of competent staff meant she only had a few minutes at most to gather her thoughts.

Her infuriating wizard had done it again. Years ago, the two had challenged each other: would he eventually come to her, or would he never ask of her.

And now, they were both victorious. And yet neither were defeated.

How did he always find such methods? How did he always thwart her, yet in doing so gave her what she wanted as well?

It was good he was not of her Court, because if he was she would genuinely fear the threat he represented, his skill at the games of politics.

More than that, his declaration: his insinuation to her…

That the end he feared, was one she had already reached. That their paths echoed each other more than even she could remember.

That once, she had not been a monster.

She sought desperately the evidence of his mistake, proof of him being incorrect.

She could find nothing to prove them.

But she could find nothing to disprove them either.

She pulled her thoughts from his words, and focused instead on the future.

If he had found a way for both of their goals to be met, then it fell to her to see it through.

And the source behind her rage, was because she feared she would not be able to follow through.

She had challenged him, and he had met her challenge. He had come to her, and she had promised surcease, to meet him as an equal, to take him as a partner.

Yet she could not. Her Hunger never settled in his presence. It desired him, craved him, and she could no longer contain that need for him. Any attempt at resisting failed the moment her skin touched his.

She had sworn to never feed on him, and now she could not make good her oath.

That was unacceptable. She would not allow it.

With a deep breath, Lara gathered herself. Her eyes narrowed.

Thomas had spent years trying to deal with the protection his love gave his lover (she refused to think of the creature by name). He had found a way, but only to deal with the protection, not to prevent his Hunger.

Thomas was often melodramatic, unimaginative, and lacking resources.

Lara resolved herself. All the accumulated knowledge on her species, gathered by her father over the millennia, was at her disposal along with the wealth, influence and power she herself had accumulated in the last ten years.

It was time to find a way for her to maintain her oath.

Lore Check

Alright. So first off, in case it wasn't clear from the narrative, Harry and Lara were trying to get out of the marriage and Mab lost her patience at the two of them and told the two of them that they're basically already married, Lara is head over heals, and Harry is totally whipped. Naturally, the two take offense to it, but are both too self aware to deny it to themselves forever.

I liked that interaction a lot, as I think it describes a lot of how well the two know each other again. Harry automatically knowing to make Lara's coffee for her, Lara being confident on him getting it right. The bit about the 20 year anniversary (which should match the time line. I did a lot of counting. They met 3 years before Restoration of Faith, which was 3 years before series begun. Bloot rites was 4 years in, which was their 10 year anniversary, and Battlegrounds was 10 years after that) just served to highlight just how long the two have known each other by now. Can you think of anyone you've known for 20 years, by the way? Non-family? Yeah.

Harry's speech about the end of the path is completely canon. It's in his internal monologue while dealing with Mab at the end of Battlegrounds. It really puts things into perspective when he realizes just how much Mab must have had to change, to give up, to surrender over the centuries. The empathy he feels for his boss, and the parallels he draws with his own path. For Favor, it's something he also is able to see in Lara, aided by the long distant soul gaze.

Whether it's true or not for Lara, well, if canon reveals otherwise I'll shrug, but it could be I think. Harry met her after her own blood stained path, after her love was killed, after years of servitude to her father, after the death of countless siblings over the years. Epics could be composed of Lara's growth over the years (though yeah, they'd probably read like the plot of a porn at times).

I mentioned in the author's notes that I'm not sure how I felt about this chapter. I know how I envisioned it in my head, but I'm not sure that I presented it clearly in the narrative. The idea was that that Lara had told Harry that she would win him when he was finally broken, when he needed her. After everything that happened, after coming to understand Mab and losing Karin, he realized that she was right, and that it would be inevitable. So rather than fight it, he accepted the circumstances that were bringing the two of them together.

For Lara's part, her breakdown at the end in her office was a combination of being unable to prove Harry's assertion wrong, and the realization that her victory was in sight but also about to be denied her. The idea that Harry knows her so well that he could see parts of her that even she couldn't unnerved her, and she does not take well to not being in control of herself. Besides that, for all that she had planned for him to come to her, she realized that she wouldn't be able to claim her victory with the fact that her feelings for Harry won't let her not feed on him, the key element of her victory.

Anyway, I hope that was what I was able to convey, but if I couldn't, well, you're reading this section so now that's cleared up. One chapter left.