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...When John first heard of Harry Dresden, he thought the man was a con artist. Someone that was looking for a quick buck. Real wizards wouldn't publicly announce themselves like Dresden did. So while he was looking into the supernatural world he dismissed Dresdem as a source of information.Until Tommy Tom had been murdered. One of John's people had been murdered by magic. From his sources in Chicago PD, he knew that SI was bringing Dresden in. How the man conned his way into their good graces, John didn't understand.His men forced Dresden into the back of his sedan. Dresden carefully avoided his meeting his eyes as he refused John's offers to not look into Tommy's murder. He wasn't going to sit idly by and do nothing. This was his city. He kept order in it, even when the powers that be, didn't. When the wizard turned his head and their gazes met, John realized that everything he had believed about the man was wrong.A Soul Gaze wasn't a pleasant experience for him. Dresden soul was that of battered down soldier. Torn, beaten, and covered in scars. If it was a real human body, Dresden would have long since died from his injuries. The only warmth he seemed to know was that of fire. He used the fire to build was over his loneliness.No, that wasn't the right word. It wasn't loneliness, it was isolation. A self imposed exile. Dresden didn't want others to get hurt because of him, so he pushed them away. He hid his pain, the betrayal that others had caused him, and his fear behind a sarcastic mask. Even now, with the shock of a sudden Soul Gaze still fresh, the wizard managed a smart ass comment and a smirk.John realized Dresden wouldn't stand by and do nothing. So instead of threatening him like Dresden expected he let the man go. Then be made plans on how to get around the walls....The next time they saw each other Dresden had just stopped Sells. But when John reached him, he wasn't breathing. John dropped beside the man and began CPR. The EMTs arrived and were able to get the wizard's heart started again, but he wasn't out of danger yet.As he followed the EMTs out he caught sight of a man in grey frowning at Dresden. But he left as soon as Dresden was put in the back of the ambulance. A part of John wondered if that was the reason for the wizard's scars. There wasn't much time to think on it as he got in the ambulance with Dresden.He didn't leave the man's side, and when the nurses tried to make him leave, Hendricks convinced them to allow him to stay. He stayed in the waiting room until the doctor came and told him the wizard was stable, but unconscious.John slept by the wizard's side. He woke up to the sound of a throat being cleared. Looking up, there was an older man in a grey cloak looking down at Dresden."What are you doing here, criminal?" the man asked."I'm watching over him," John replied coldly, "And you are?""Morgan," answered equally as cold, "I'm here to give Dresden news.""Morgan?" Croaked out a tired voice, "'re to finish the job?"Both he and Morgan turned to see Dresden blinked up at them. Exhaustion was clear in his brown eyes but they were focused on Moegan."Dresden," said Morgan in a clear authoritative voice, "By the will of the Council, the Doom of Damocles is hereby revoked. You have all the titles and privileges of a fully recognized wizard from now on."Slowly Dresden nodded. The look on his face said that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop though. Morgan glared at him but he left the room."Are you okay?" John asked quietly."Just peachy," replied Dresden, "I can't stay here. Hospitals and wizards don't get along."His tone was flat and exhausted. He didn't turn and meet John's gaze, and the man didn't force him to. He helped him get dressed and went to pay for his discharge from the hospital.As he was walking Dresden to his car, the wizard spoke again. "So, what's the price of this, Marcone?""Call me, John," he insisted."Marcone," the wizard countered but it was weak."Harry," he sighed and Harry started with surprise, "There is no price. I've seen the state of your apartment and that your business isn't doing well. Use this to take some time off and heal. It's a thank you for stopping Sells. Nothing more. Nothing less."Harry gave him an exhausted look before nodding. As John helped him to his apartment. He lowered his wards just enough to let them inside if reluctantly in John's case. A mountain cat immediately hit Harry's knees. Only John's hold kept him from hitting the floor. Harry gently took the cat into his arms and curled around the creature on his couch. He was asleep within seconds....Over the next few months Harry began to notice a tail. Whenever he went out men from the Outfit followed. No one interfered but still knowing every movement was being watched was annoying."Bob," he called."Yes, Harry," the spirit appeared in his skull."How do I get rid of a stalker?" he asked, rubbing his forehead."Well, usually a restraining order is the best option," Bob pointed out."Except, my 'stalker' is the mob boss of Chicago," Harry muttered, "Do you have any other advice?""Sleep with him," Bob suggested with his version of a shrug.Only Bob would suggest sleeping with John Marcone. That would require Harry to lower his walls. Which wasn't happening. Not again. He'd learned his lesson from Elaine.Still he was being followed and was about ready to start throwing fire. And when they followed him on a case he had enough."If you don't stop stalking me," threatened Harry with a growl, "I'm going to set you and your suits on fire. Do you understand me?"The suits, no one Harry recognized raised their hands in surrender. Slowly the two stepped back, not turning their backs on him, before leaving him alone. Finally.It lasted two days. Two whole days. Then, they were following him again. It was the last straw. He warned them."Flickum Bicus!" He snarled.Two shrieks of terror later, the suits ran. It wouldn't leave lasting damage just enough to scare them. Now, hopefully, the rumors would spread, and his warning would be heeded. Though a part of him knew that Marcone wouldn't heed the warning. The man had a stubborn streak to rival Harry's own. With a sigh, he headed home....John had gotten the reports that his men had been burned. They weren't hurt badly, just scared, and singed. Apparently, Dresden had had enough and had finally snapped. Though it did seem he chose to use a weaker fire spell than his usual one. For that, he was grateful to the wizard.After reading the report, he decided to speak with the man. He had no intentions of stopping his surveillance. Especially after learning that the man's apartment was in a bad neighborhood, and he rarely ate or slept. Hendricks drove him to the building and walked with him up the stairs.Harry opened the door in sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt. He must've woken him. As soon as Harry recognized him, the door was slammed in his face. The wizard was not happy. John knocked again and this time a voice yelled through the wood."Go away, Marcone!""Harry, we need to talk," he stated."Go away," Harry demanded, "Why are you more of a stalker than my Fairy Godmother?"He was kidding right? Someone really was that bad of a stalker. But why would a godmother stalk him in the first place?"Harry," he sighed, "Can't we discuss this civilly?""Civilly," mocked Harry, "No! Leave me alone!""I'm not leaving until you hear me out," John said in his most reasonable tone."Do you want a face full of fire too?" Snarled the wizard."Why are you so reluctant to accept help?" he questioned, curiously."Because there's always a price. You can just leave now. I'm fine. I have been since I was sixteen," the final sentence sounded almost like a mantra.Like he had to say it to convince himself of that fact. Whatever happened, clearly the wizard hadn't healed from it. John remembered clearly the scarring on Harry's soul. Something had torn him to shreds and whoever was responsible had a debt to pay."Harry," he said, trying to be persuasive, "five minutes. That's all I ask."There was silence. Then the sound of heavy footsteps. A muffled thump against the wall. Had the wizard just punched something?"Why won't you leave me alone?" asked a quiet voice that was anything but the strong persona of the wizard of Chicago."Because no one else seems willing to," John answered, honestly, "Five minutes, then if you tell me to, I'll leave."Again, nothing. Then the sound of locks clicking open. He pushed the door slowly. Inside the apartment, Harry sat in his chair. His elbows rested on his knees, his head was bent, and his hands were in his hair. He looked...tired. The kind of tired that was bone deep."Five minutes," the wizard whispered.Taking the chance, he entered the apartment and sat in the remaining chair. Harry didn't look at him or move at his presence. In the corner, the large mountain cat was staring at him. Its ears were pressed back, and its fur was fluffed up, and it had puffy a tail. Clearly, it was very upset at his intrusion. When Nathan went by it took a swipe at him."Talk," Harry ordered, his voice stronger than a second ago, and the mask was starting to come into place.But the vulnerable man that was hidden beneath that armor was still visible. If only for a moment longer, before the full force of the protective shell was in place. Like a wounded animal, the man was dangerous, and likely to lash out. It would be a test of patience and cunning to find a way to the real him.John said softly, "My men will not bother you. All they do is watch and protect you from a distance. They will intervene should they see a threat. And in case of an emergency, call me.""Why?" Asked Harry raising his gaze to meet John's, "What do you want from me?""Nothing," John assured him, trying to convey his sincerity, "This is a peace offering. I don't want to fight or make an enemy out of you.""You shouldn't care," said Harry dropping his gaze, "You've already seen my soul. What's the point in continuing to try and get to know me? And no I don't want to know what you saw."The walls were back up. If John wanted them to come down he'd have to be careful about it. Or Harry would lash out."I'm not helpless," snapped Harry, his temper flaring to life, "I can handle myself, Marcone. I have since I was sixteen. I didn't need it then, and I don't need it now.""Who taught that to you, Harry?" asked John, genuinely curious, and worried, "Who made you feel that you couldn't trust anyone to help you?""Get out," snarled Harry.John stood, realizing he had crossed a line. As a show of faith, he turned his back to the wizard and walked calmly to the door. Once outside, Harry slammed the door behind him.Nathan and John climbed the stairs back up to the street. Getting in the car, Nathan's looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Sighing, John told him everything that had occurred."So, what now, Johnny?" asked Hendricks, as he drove them to the club."Call in our best," ordered John, "We'll keep an eye on Mr. Dresden and continue the peace offerings. He's not an idiot. He'll catch on and we'll go from there. Also, look into his history.""If you say so, Johnny," allowed Nathan....Speaking of his godmother must have willed the bitch into existence. A month after his meeting with Marcone he was running through the Nevernever. With her hounds right on his fucking heels. They were routing him away from where he jumped into the Nevernever. He would have to come back out somewhere but he wouldn't know where.With no choice, he came raised his staff and snarled, "Aparturum."Harry threw himself through the rift. Then tunred and closed it with a hound half out of it. Blood sprayed him and the ground as the beast was cut in half.This side was a rundown old factory. One that was currently in use. There were crates everywhere. Some were open, others weren't. But the workers were armed, and on high alert."Hold your fire," ordered a familiar voice.Out of the group, came a suited Marcone and his bodyguard, Hendricks. Both were armed. Harry was very aware that he was bleeding all over the warehouse floor. His magic reserves were completely depleted. There was no escape from this situation. At least Marcone would kill him quickly.Still Harry shook out his shield bracelet to ensure it was free. Marcone lowered then holstered his weapon. As he did so his men followed his lead. Hendricks was the last to holster his weapon and he began to bark orders to his men.Marcone approached Harry with slow measured steps. As if approaching a wounded and feral animal. Which was true. Harry felt his lips curl in a silent snarl. The other man stopped ten feet from him. Harry's hand was tight on his staff, his knuckles were probably white. The wood dug painfully into his palm. Not that he had the energy to loosen his grip."Easy, Harry," Marcone murmured, his money greem eyes never leaving his brown one's, "Easy."The tones were quiet and soothing. Like one would take with an abused and frightened animal or child. Slowly the tension left his shoulders. When the criminal continued in the same tone, the rest of him relaxed. He was tired and in pain. His shoulders eased their way down and his back slouched. There was a crack forming in Harry's carefully built walls. Relief flared in Marcones's eyes."Now, can I come closer?" Marcone asked quietly.Wearily Harry nodded and his arm lowered. As he did, his legs collapsed under him. Strong arms caught him before he could hit the ground. Warmth flooded his chilled limbs, and his eyelashes fluttered close. Sleep was dragging him under. Still, he fought to stay awake. Trust wasn't something to give freely and he didn't want to wake up in a cage again."Sleep," ordered a gentle, and strong voice, "You are safe, Harry. No one will hurt you here."His eyes closed without his permission. His breathing evened out and darkness claimed him. Briefly Harry cane back around with his head in Marcone's lap. The mobster was running his fingers through his hair. They were in the back of a car."Wha..." he croaked, blinking his eyes to clear his vision, "'ppen?"The hand paused, briefly. Before it resumed its path in his hair. It was a comforting gesture and helped to fight the lingering terror from the encounter from the Leanansidhe. It'd been a near miss. She almost caught him."Shh," shushed Marcone, "Rest, Harry. We'll talk when you're feeling better. You're safe with me."Hendricks turned in the passenger seat to look back at them. His blue eyes met Harry's and he gave him a small nod. Then his face returned to the impassive mask and he turned to face the front again. Despite his misgivings, Harry fell back asleep. He was warm, comfortable, and safe. Three things that were rare in his life. He'd deal with the consequences of that later....When he woke next, he was in a room he didn't recognize. Someone had changed him into an oversized shirt and sweatpants. Pulling up the shirt he found bandages were tight around his torso. Each wound had been cleaned, treated, and wrapped. His silver pentacle lay under his shirt but it was his only focci.Slowly Harry sat up. A sharp pain shot through his entire body. Gritting his teeth, he swung his legs over the bed. Using the nightstand, he pulled himself to his feet. After a few seconds of standing, the pain faded to manageable levels. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the door. It was unlocked.Carefully and using the wall for support he left the room. Down the hall and to the right, was a kitchen and living room. Hendricks and Marcone were sitting and drinking coffee. Caffeine sounded amazing but cautious had him pausing outside of the kitchen. Neither of the occupants had noticed him. Curiosity had him staying in the shadows to listen."Just send him home, Johnny," said Hendricks."I can't, Nathan," argued Marcone, his voice tense, "He needs help, and no one else will give it. Look at him, he's starving. He can't heal properly without food and nutrients. And the job that SI has him doing is going to kill him. I won't allow that to happen to him. Not when I can do something about it."Marcone cared that much? Or did he know that Harry was listening? That had to be it. Right?"What can you do, though?" wondered Hendricks, "He doesn't trust you.""Then, I'll have to earn his trust," stated Marcone, stubbornly, "It'll start by feeding him..."Harry slipped away from the kitchen and went looking for his duster and focci. Most things could be replaced but he'd prefer not to when it came to his rings. He found his rings on a table in the living room along with his shield bracelet. But his staff, duster, and blasting rod were nowhere to be found.A quick glance showed no notes or anything to indicate the location of his items. Without a word, he put on his jewelry and headed for the front door. Hand on the doorknob, a voice stopped him in his tracks."Going somewhere, Dresden?" asked Marcone, coolly.Turning his head, he saw the crime lord leaning against the wall of the living room. He was watching Harry with a calm gaze. Initially Harry wanted to be defensive but the calmness of Marcone's gaze soothed it.Reluctantly Harry turned away from the door. He took a step towards the mob boss. Dizziness washed over him. The strength fled from his knees, and he started to collapse. An arm caught him and his descent was halted."Thank you," he muttered, embarrassed that the other man had seen him in a weak position."Come on," the criminal said, gently, "Sit and eat. We'll talk while we do."Marcone helped him to the kitchen. Marcone was wearing a short sleeved shirt and sweatpants. It was odd to see the man in casual clothing. Usually, the criminal wore a suit. In the kitchen, the smell of bacon and eggs was overwhelming. His mouth watered at the thought of eating. How long had it been since his last meal? Too long, apparently."Eat, Dresden," ordered the man, "then, we'll discuss what happened."So, Harry ate. Slowly at first, until his stomach got used to the food. Then he was wolfing down the meal. He should be savoring the food but he couldn't remember the last tike he ate. Or what that meal had been. It had to have been a week at least. When the plate was clean, and the food gone, did he finally stop."Feeling better, Mr. Dresden?" inquired Marcone, looking amused."Much," answered Harry, "Now, where's my staff and blasting rod?""Your staff and rod are safe, and will be returned to you," promised Marcone, "Before that, how did you end up in my warehouse half dead?""My godmother," admitted Harry, reluctantly, "I was running from her hounds. My exit from the Nevernever was random. I had no clue of knowing that your operation was there. I apologize for the interruption. And thank you for the medical treatment, food, and a place to sleep.""You're welcome," said Marcone and reached out a hand towards Harry, "And don't worry, the damage was minimal."Harry flinched away from the reaching hand. While the gesture was friendly and not threatening, the instinct to shy from the touch was too strong. Confusion and concern were in the green eyes of the criminal. Reluctantly, the man drew his hand back. Something was in those money greed eyes. Disappointment, maybe? Or was it regret?"Why did your Godmother attack you, Mr. Dresden?" questioned the criminal, curiously."It's an old debt," explained Harry, vaguely, "She wants her pound of flesh and she's decided to call in the debt now. Free advice scumbag. Don't make deals with the Fae.""Noted," acknowledged the criminal, "but why did she come after you, now?""Oh its not just now," said Harry waving it off, "I just entered the Nevernever and of course she sensed it. Which is how I ended up in your warehouse. Didn't know where I was going to end up but anywhere was better than with her.""But, she's been hunting you, correct, Mr. Dresden?" pushed Marcone as he nudged Harry towards the kitchen, "Why didn't you tell the Council about the problem?""Because, I can handle the situation on my own," snapped Harry defensively allowing himself to be directed, "Where's my stuff, Marcone?""John," corrected Marcone gently."Marcone," countered Harry, firmly, ignoring the request.Harry startled when his knee hit a chair. The dark-haired criminal put a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him into the seat. Warmth spread from the contact. There were no demands, expectations, or disappointment in that touch. It was strangely comforting.Harry allowed himself to sit in the chair. In the corner, the mountain of a bodyguard, Nathan, was glaring at him. Harry glared right back and didn't drop his gaze. If the other man tried to start a fight then he'd happily oblige."Mr. Dresden," began Marcone calmly, "Your equipment has been secured. You are not well enough to go gallivanting through Chicago.""Fuck off, Marcone," growled Harry defensively, "I am fine!"Rage at the audacity of the man had him leaping to his feet. Which caused him to nearly lose his balance. The world spun and his vision grayed at the edges. With a curse, his hand shot out to brace against the table. A steadying hand landed on his hip and another on his lower back. Slowly, they helped him to turn and eased him back into his chair. Marcone was crouched in front of him, his green eyes staring worriedly at him."Easy, Mr. Dresden," murmured the criminal, soothingly, like one would a frightened or injured animal, "Just breathe for a moment. You're still recovering. Breathe."Following the advice of the older man, Harry breathed in and out slowly. The world stopped spinning, and his vision cleared. Still, the hands stayed on him. Anchoring him and keeping him from falling. Gradually his muscles loosened and relaxed."There we are," praised the criminal softly, "Better, Mr. Dresden?""Yes," replied Harry, his throat tight and dry, "Thank you.""You are welcome," acknowledged Marcone, and the man's hands slid away from him, "But, I think its best if you stay here, at least for a little while. You are in no shape to defend yourself. And it will give us time to speak.""No," hissed Harry.The very idea of staying here and being defenseless made him want to lash out. To set everything on fire. He had to get out of this house. This was a bad situation, and the sooner he left, the better."Mr. Dresden," began Marcone in a firm tone, his green eyes hardening, "You are not leaving in the condition that you are in. Either, by your own will, or my compulsion. You will not die because of your pride.""You think you can stop me?" Coldly asked Harry as he drew upon his will.Just because he preferred having his focci didn't mean he needed them. They were tools to focus his magic and amplify it. Like a magnifying glass to the sun. But the power came from him. Not the tools.This time when he stood he kept a hand on the table. Hendricks reached for him and got a face full of force from the rings. The large man flew across the room and smacked into the fridge. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. The rise and fall of Hendricks chest was a relief. He'd be fine just bruised.Harry turned and found himself eye to eye with Marcone. Who was blocking his exit from the kitchen. Anger at his actions and the way that the man was trying to keep him from leaving was making him see red. His hands curled into fists and his will and rage were building. One more step and he'd show the crime lord why he shouldn't mess with him."Move, Marcone," demanded Harry his voice cold and flat, "Or be moved.""Stop," snapped Marcone in a voice that demanded obedience.Some part of Harry did. Some part of him recognized that tone and obeyed. Hendricks who was trying to rise back to his feet also froze."Enough of this, both of you," ordered Marcone his voice softer than before, but no less commanding, "Nathan, are you okay?""Fine, Johnny," grumbled Nathan rubbing at the back of his head, "Nothing that hasn't happened before."Marcone then caught Harry's gaze and held it. Calm certainty was in those money green eyes. Confidence that he would be obeyed. That he wouldn't dare to try and leave. Despite his anger and wariness, that confidence soothed the jagged edges of his temper and nerves. While his walls weren't completely down, a crack was forming in their foundations.Harry's shoulders dropped and he sat back in the chair. Marcone nodded and turned to the fridge to get ice for his bodyguard. Nathan took the ice and pressed the bag to the back of his neck....For two days, Harry remained at the house of John Marcone. Every time he tried to leave, the crime lord stopped him. With either a look or a word. Each attempt to escape felt weaker than the last. Until, finally, he gave in and stayed at the house. Without even attempting to leave."Hey, Marcone," called Harry from the living room, "Can I borrow some paper and a pen? I've got a few calls to make.""Of course, Mr. Dresden," acknowledged the crime lord from the kitchen, "Here, let's use the office. Its quieter in there."Harry allowed Marcone to direct him towards an office. Inside was a desk, a bookshelf, and a comfortable chair. It was a cozy space and had the same atmosphere of security as the rest of the house. Once they were in the office, Marcone handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Then, he left and shut the door behind him. Giving him privacy and quiet to work in.With a heavy sigh, Harry picked up the phone and dialed the number of his answering service. Thankfully there weren't any messages for him. Then he dialed Michael's number. The line rang once before someone picked up."Hello, Carpenter residence," greeted a young female voice, probably Molly."Hi, its Harry Dresden. Is your dad in?" Asked Harry."Mom!" Called the girl he was sure it was Molly now, "Harry's on the phone!"Oh for fucks sake. Anyone but Charity. Her dislike of him was well known. He almost hung up right then. But the consequences of that action were much worse than talking to the woman. Footsteps echoed on the other end of the phone. Then, a new, harsh, and familiar voice spoke."Hello, Mr. Dresden," she said frostily."Hey sorry for the surprise call," he said carefully keeping their last name out of the conversation, "I'm just canceling the meeting with Michael later. I'm recovering from some injuries and will be stuck inside for a few days."Marcone was watching him now. The green eyes were calculating and thoughtful. Probably figuring out the best way to use the information. If only he knew the dangers of the Knights. Maybe, that would scare the man off of him. Doubtful, though, the criminal was a stubborn bastard. It would take a lot to shake the man."Very well, thank you for letting us know, and we wish you a swift recovery," her voice had warmed somewhat to him."Thank you, Charity," he said, "I'll call when I'm home to let Michael know I'm back. Then we can reschedule.""I'll tell him," she promised, and the call was ended.Harry sighed and hung up the phone. Marcone was still watching him, quietly. Curious, and cautious. Like waiting to see what an animal would do. Or maybe a rabid beast was a more accurate analogy."That went better than expected," admitted Harry, leaning his head on the heel of his palm, "She usually doesn't like to talk to me. So, that was a minor miracle.""I couldn't imagine why," joked Marcone easily.Harry gave Marcone a tight smile....John tried not to show his shock when Harry joined him in his office later. It was the first time the wizard had come to him. Instead of being forced or coaxed to stay in his company, voluntarily. It was an encouraging sign.Though from the exhaustion on the younger man's face, sleep hadn't been kind to him. Another nightmare, likely. He'd woken from a few of them since arriving at the safe house. Each one had seemed worse than the last."Couldn't sleep," muttered the tall and lanky brunette."You can stay in here for as long as you like," offered John with an encouraging smile."Thanks," mumbled Harry, tiredly, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes."Are you alright, Harry?" questioned John, softly."Just nightmares," shrugged the wizard, his shoulders hunching, defensively.John and Nathan learned the hard way that waking Harry during a nightmare was dangerous. Both had bruises to prove it. The wizard was a wild creature that couldn't distinguish friend from foe. Only that something was touching and restraining him. A second later, the two men had been thrown against the wall. When Harry had seen what he'd done, shame had coated the man's features.It had taken an hour of quiet reassurances from John to calm him. During that time, the wizard hadn't met his or Nathan's gaze. Nor had he responded to the soothing words that John had spoken. Later, after the incident, when things had calmed down, the wizard had apologized. Though, he'd refused to meet their gazes. Even now, Harry's gaze was on the floor.John sighed softly before he indicated for Harry to sit in the chair. The man followed the silent command and slouched into the seat. His brown eyes were still on the floor."Would you prefer to discuss the contents of the nightmares or the reasons for them?" asked John, calmly.Harry shook his head and didn't answer. John nodded to himself and returned to his paperwork. They worked in silence, occasionally sipping at the coffee. Slowly, Harry started to nod off in the chair. Another crack in Harry's walls to allow him in. Quietly, John set the papers aside and watched the young man. This was the most peaceful he'd ever seen him. The strong jaw was relaxed and his long limbs were stretched out. If only, the dark circles under his eyes could disappear.Slowly, and to avoid startling the sleeping man, John rose to his feet. Carefully, he dropped one of the blankets often used by Nathan on top of Harry. Gently, he pushed a stray lock of hair from the young man's forehead. Then, he resumed his seat at the desk to continue his work. Occasionally, glancing at the peacefully sleeping man. Hoping that no more nightmares would plague him and that the night was a restful one....By the time Harry was healed enough to leave, a week had passed. Somehow Marcone, had become John in his mind. And somehow, he'd begun to trust the man. It wasn't much. Just little bits of himself. But it was trust that he'd given freely. Which was more than he could say of anyone else. There was a knock on his bedroom door. Hendricks entered the room, his expression blank. In his hands, was Harry's duster, staff, and blasting rod. Gratefully, he took his gear and dressed. Once everything was settled in place, the weight was comforting.It felt odd leaving the estate after being their for a week. Not that he had to. The offer had been extended that he could stay until he was completely healed but Harry shook his head. The sooner he was gone the better. As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, his shoulders sagged in relief. Finally, he was free."Goodbye, Mr. Dresden," said John, his tone was polite and friendly, "You are welcome back anytime.""Uh, thanks, John," answered Harry, feeling awkward, and scratching the back of his neck, "And thanks again for the help."John nodded easily. Harry would go home and while the two saw each other in passing over the next few months but there wasn't time for them exchange more than pleasantries. Life was hectic and demanding. Cases came up, and the people needed saving, again.