A Harry Dresden Files( Fan Fiction)

Maggie

        It had been one month since I had found out about my daughter, Maggie. One month since I murdered the women that I loved, for a sacrifice. One month since I found out I am not alone. And yet this guilt weighs me down like sandbags on the bottom of a lake with a bullet wound in my chest.

        Oh. Wait. 

        I looked at my chest, my new white shirt stained in blood, " why did I pick the shirt with a bullet hole in it?" It dawned on me...the blood was still coming. 

        My vision fogged and I toppled over the side of the boat and into the freezing waters of Chicago's icy shores. 

        The pain only lasted a few seconds. Then, came peace.

        My breath came ragged and unsteady and I shook off the nightmare. I woke up in the Carpender's garage, on the small cot that they were letting me sleep on. Even the idea of going back to the Water Beetle left me in shivers. I sat there, on the verge of panic. It's okay, I try to tell myself, keep calm. Your alive. Your friends are alive. Everyone is safe.

        But not everyone was safe, Susan, my....ex? lover? mother of my child? had been sacrificed. The guilt poured all in once more in a rapid flow until it threatened to explode like fire on a dry tinder. It was necessary, the logicial part of my brain tries to tell me, it saved lives, it killed almost all of the Red Court vampires. and those who survived won't be hurting people anytime soon... But the guilt still weighed on my shoulders. Everyone that tries to help me ends up hurt, dead, or lonely.

        I stood up and walked around my room, grabbed  a shirt and my leather duster and walked into the house, striaght into the kitchen-I'm a man what can I say- where little three year old Harry was pulling on the childproofed drawers, Molly sat on the couch, she had kept the honey blonde hair, which I think is only temporary until she and her mother get into an arguement. It should be neon in no time. Micheal and Charity sat quietly at the table, micheal sat reading the newspaper, while Charity sat working on her most recent chainmail creation of death. other wise knows as the kevlar sandwhich. A chainmail shirt between 2 thin layers of kevlar, making it bullet proof, arrow proof, and child resistant. Nothing is fully child proof. Just ask mini- me, who sat chewing on the spoon he finally extracted expertly from the drawer.

        " I have an assignment for you," Micheal said, not looking up from his newspaper, dramatically pausing.

        " you forgot to say ' if you are willing to accept.'"

        " you're going to accept this mission," Micheal said.

        " Yes, sir." With a mockful salute.

 I swear, he was giving a dramatic pause. He opened his mouth to say more, but cocked his head, as if listening to a familiar sound. He then smiled a little...mischeivously. It was definetely mischeivious.

        A little girl walked in, with dark hair and a stubborn chin, she wasnt pale but she wasn't as dark as her mother had been, and isn't as light as her father. And when she tilted her hed up to look at me, my eyes met her dark almost eyes that screamed innocence, but they had a matureness in them that children her age should never have. They said she had seen death. I hadn't seen her, I had avoided her for the longest time, I didn't want to look into her eyes when she reminded me so much of her mother, the women who I had loved, the woman I had killed in front of her. Her name was Maggie, short for Margaret, she had been named after my mother even before I knew she existed. Hell, I don't even really know how Susan had really known who my mother was. I try so hard to forget, when I  actually try to remember something, I can't recall it for anything, it comes all jumbled and foggy. Which i am usually just fine with. But sometimes, I want to try to remember the good things so they can battle the bad.

        Maggie looked at me, and in her eyes I saw no fear, no regret. I saw curiousity. She smirked, a smirk that pulled at the corners of my thought long dead heart, and all she said was," do you want to be my Daddy?"

        I first felt fear, what if I couldn't protect her? What if she ended up like my mother, what if people went for her trying to get to her? But looking into her intellegant eyes, and seeing that slightly mischeivous smirk gave me courage. I would protect her for all that I was worth. A smile came to my lips from my heart, and I looked down at and said, " I always was, sweetheart. And I'm here to stay."

        She smiled big at that, and walked to me, carrying a little stuffed animal, that looked suspiciously like Mouse, and put her arms out, I swooped down and picked her up and gave her a hug, tears stinging in my eyes, threatening to fall. I blinked rapidly, and kept her in my arms as i turned to Micheal and said, " mission accepted, tell me what to do."

        He had a grin on his face, and Charity, who was standing in the doorway, had suspicously red eyes. " We will talk in a few," and he limped out of the room, leaning on his cane, which looked suspiciously like those custom made canes with hidden daggers, or swords you can pull out by the handle.. Charity winked at me- i almost fainted, it was a almost kind gesture..from Charity- and turned and followed Micheal from the room. Maggie started to wiggled in my arms impatiently, so i set her down and she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall into her room, the that she shared with Molly sometimes, where a line was obviously in the middle, from the middle of the door, up across the ceiling onto the far wall. The right side was the color of blood, with black and white layered intricate designs, that looked slightly 3Dish. The left side was a soft green green and a light pink . she pulled me to a obviously previously used oak desk that had been painted white, with mismatched drawers. There lay a crayon drawing, with crayons still sprawled out on the desk, as if she had done it the previous night and had gotten to tired to return the crayons to their designated area. It wasn't a stick figure drawing, but it was close. It was thick and detailed for a 7 year old, she had drawn a little girl similar to herself in height, and next to her was a tall man clad in her representation of ancient roman armor, he looked scary... but somehow it also looked like he might be safe as well.

         Labeled above it was the title " Daddy?"

        I pulled out a crayon from a cup on her little desk, and crossed out the question mark.