Tomorrow Will Come- A Hatchetfield Story

Epilogue: I'll Cover You

SIX MONTHS LATER

Harriet tripped over a pile of papers and hypotheses as she made her way to the mirror. Not that she really needed hypotheses anymore given that she was fully in control of her environment, and not the other way around. She knew how everything worked, because she made it work that way. She was cosmic and infinite. She even knew the secrets of the human dimensions. Still... doing a bit of math, a bit of science... it kept her sane. It was a very intense existence being an Eldritch.

She brushed herself off, walking to the mirror in the corner. Her first order of business when she'd officially moved into the Black and White was make it home, and make it home she had. She'd turned it into her old attic. She realized if she couldn't actually be there, she'd bring there to where she had to be. She sighed, looking at herself. She wore a black suit with a crimson silk vest with velvet paisley overlay and a matching cravat as was agreed upon by her and Xander. She'd tied her hair back into a ponytail. She smirked at herself.

"My my, Bitsy... don't you look good." She told herself.

"You do." Wiley told her. She spun around.

Ah yes, Wiley. That had been a pretty predicament. He had, though, technically pledged his allegiance to the forces within the Black and White. She'd killed his master, and taken his place. So technically speaking... he was bound to serve her. Rehabilitating him had been no easy task. In fact, it wasn't even a finished one. He still had a lot of trouble. However... he had to serve her, no questions asked.

"Thank you." Harriet sighed. "You're saying that genuinely, right? Not to sabotage John and Xander's wedding?"

"Yeah... as much as I want to stab that little pretty boy... since I had to start working for you, I've taken some time to try and see things from John's side, and... he really loves Xander, doesn't he?"

"I believe he does." Harriet smirked softly. "I'll never understand the struggle you're going through given that I don't feel romantic love. But... they seem very happy together."

"I think... if they're that happy, they should marry." Wiley sighed, still a bit hurt. "I'll... I think a piece of me will always love him. But... I should have let him go a long time ago. It's about time."

"That's very rational thinking. I'm proud of you." Harriet hummed, holding a hand out and letting her sunglasses- like Xander's, but with red tinted lenses. She put them on, before holding her hand out again and accioing her bouree, tipping that on. "I am sorry, Wiley. That things didn't work out between the two of you."

"I was to blame." He sighed. "I... made some choices, and I chose to prioritize other things over him. I can't blame him for being hurt and moving on. I just... guess I'll have to get over him."

"Have you chosen what day you want to go out this year?" Harriet asked.

"No." Wiley sighed. "There's... really no need for me to anymore."

"Why don't you come to the wedding today?" Harriet offered.

"I don't think John wants me there." Wiley chuckled sadly.

"Au contraire. I think... he'd like to know that you bless the marriage, and that things are finally alright between you two." Harriet countered. "I got offered a plus one, and he knows there's no one else I could take."

"Really?" Wiley bit his lip.

"Come on, Naughty list." Harriet rolled her eyes, flicking her hands and changing his denim plainclothes into a denim suit, complete with a little denim bowtie. He chuckled. "You ready?"

"I guess I am." Wiley smirked. Harriet held out an arm, and they walked out of the Black and White and into a penthouse apartment in Hatchet field, Michigan, where they found one John McNamara making out with one Xander Lee. P.E.I.P had noted a lot of activity happening in Hatchetfield that fell within their jurisdiction, so... once they'd confirmed it was possible with all of the task force, they'd relocated their headquarters. And so John and Xander now lived there, and Harriet cleared her throat, looking away, and Wiley whistled.