Epilogue

Molly was working the desk at Harry's office while he was out in the field; after the murder of La Fortier, and the drastic reshuffling of the Council, Harry's work had been on hold while he recovered from his wounding. He now had a new wicked scar to show off, and although it had healed cleanly, it was definitely the sort of thing that drew women like flies to honey.

Molly was thankful, really, that she and Harry had always remained so distant from the Council and Edinburgh itself. Both had bad memories of the place, and didn't like spending time there, which had limited their exposure to Peabody and his mind-screwing ink.

She was brought out of her reverie by a knock on the door. It swung open, and in strode a young man of about 18, with a mop of shaggy black hair, a devil-may-care grin on his face, and a fading scar on his forehead. He looked a bit haggard, but getting healthier.

She thought he looked familiar...

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Harry Dresden."

"What is this regarding?" she asked, still trying to place him.

"He made a job offer a few years back, and I wanted to see if it was still open."

The office door opened behind him, and in strode Harry, some sort of goo covering his duster that he was trying to wipe off.

"Remember when I said I'd never do slime demons again? I lied." he said, looking vaguely irritated. He was suddenly aware of the kid standing in the room, and stopped, looking down at him.

"Harry?"

"Hey, kid. Long time no see."

"Yeah, that whole Dark Lord hunting you thing gets old after a while."

"Does it ever. Where's Padfoot?"

"When he heard I was coming here, he took himself on a tour of the world's hottest beaches. I believe he was starting in the French Riviera."

"A man after my own heart. Or rather, my skull's heart."

There was a pause.

"Longshanks?"

"Pronglet."

The two men embraced. Molly looked at the two.

"What the hell is going on here?"

They looked at her, eyebrows cocked.

"That offer of a job still open?" the younger man asked.

"Depends on if Molly's been keeping up with the phone messages. Molly?"

"Mrs. Lanstride got back to us, she said the full exorcism is fine. Dr. Abernathy is asking about his dentist's chair, apparently it's possessed. And Captain Luccio called. Said she needs a meet in the next week or so for quarterly review." she said, determined not to make an idiot out of herself in front of this guy. This cute, sexy guy. Damnit.

"Well, the receptionist job is out."

"Damn, I look so good in a mini-skirt."

"I'm half-tempted to have you prove it, but I don't have enough brain bleach in my closet."

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

"Looks like the job of snarky private detective is wide open, though."

"Here's lookin' at you, kid."

I appreciate the reviews, people. Like all stories I've written, the beginning is easy, and the ending is monstrously hard. I know I've mucked about with the timeline a bit (Paranet, anyone?) but I reassure you this is definitely not Jim Butcher's work. He would have tortured Harry Dresden far more than I have.