I'll Leave The Door Unlocked

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"I still don't get why you're doing this," Doreen stated after turning in a complete circle inside the bedroom that she'd just been told was hers for the foreseeable future.

Harry sighed from where he leant against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest.

"No, I don't suppose you would," he said. "Really, only Hermione would." He waved off her question as to who this mysterious 'Hermione' was in favour of giving an answer. "Hermione calls it my 'saving people thing'. It's something I've always had. If I see someone or something in trouble and there's something that I can do to help, I do it, often without even considering the consequences."

"So, you're a good Samaritan," Doreen asked slowly.

"Huh," Harry grunted. "As good a description as any. And it's not like it's forever, only until you get on your feet."

"That's right," Doreen stated emphatically, thinking of the deal that they'd struck.

It'd taken the two of them, with some input from that waitress, Gwen, nearly an hour to hash out the details of their deal. Harry would provide room, meals and a job; and she would work for him as well as go to school. At least she'd have someone she'd know at her new school once she'd enrolled, even if Gwen was in the year level above her.

Gwen had even hinted that there was a possibility that her parents might take her in. Which would mean that she wouldn't have to live with Harry, no matter how nice he appeared to be. Taking an extra look around the room, she knew that as bizarre as this was, it was infinitely better than living in the park, especially with how cold it was becoming each night.

"There is ... one other thing," Doreen said.

She still hadn't put her backpack down, saving that for after this particular conversation. Harry's raised eyebrow was enough to keep her talking.

"I have a pet," she said in a rush.

"A pet?" Harry asked. "May I ask why you haven't mentioned this before?"

"He's not your usual type of pet," Doreen hedged.

"Well, I used to have an owl for a pet and I have a mate who had a toad when he was younger, so I can't imagine whatever pet you have as being too unusual," Harry assured her.

Doreen stared at him. A toad wasn't too unusual, she supposed. But an owl?

"Monkey Joe's a squirrel," she said.

It seemed that this time it was Harry's turn to stare.

"A squirrel?" he repeated. "Well, I suppose that's not so bad. Is he housebroken, at least?"

"Monkey Joe knows how to behave himself," Doreen stated indignantly.

"Well, fair enough, but if Monkey Joe makes any mess, it's your responsibility to clean up after him," Harry said.

"Agreed," Doreen said quickly.

"I'll leave you to get settled in," Harry said. "Dinner's at seven but the rest of the day is yours."

"Thanks, Harry," Doreen replied.

Harry merely nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Finally alone, Doreen took off her pack before shucking out of her old bomber jacket and flopping onto the bed. She'd unpack later, for now she was enjoying the feeling of laying on a proper mattress for the first time in what felt like forever.

ooo00ooo

"What do we know about our potential client?" Matt Murdock asked.

From the chair immediately to his left, the sound of rustling papers could be heard where his best friend and partner, Foggy Nelson of Nelson and Murdock Law Firm, was shuffling through the file that they were given by Sergeant Mahoney as they entered the police interview room.

"Right, the basics," Foggy began. "Felicia Hardy. Twenty. Born in Queens. Currently a freshman at Empire State."

"A freshman?" Matt questioned.

"Yeah, seems a little older than normal," Foggy agreed. "Oh, wait, looks like she's only just re-enrolled. She actually started University two years ago, before dropping out in her first semester."

The sound of more rustling paper filled the room.

"Here we go. Oh, man, this says that she was raped," Foggy near groaned. "By her boyfriend no less. The dude was killed in a car crash before he could be brought to trial. Other than that, her file's clean."

"Any known associates?" Matt asked, wanting to cover all bases.

"Let's see," Foggy mused. "Just the one – her father, Walter Hardy. He's a world class cat burglar, currently serving time upstate."

The door opening interrupted any further exchange of information.

Matt's head shifted as he used his extraordinary senses to get an idea of who had entered. The police officer he dismissed immediately. No, it was the girl he focused on. Her tread was light and he assumed that her clothes were form-fitting as he couldn't detect any hint of their movement as she walked. In fact, the only real sound that she gave off was the slight swish of her hair, obviously long. And there was a hint of perfume on her, a flowery scent that he was unfamiliar with.

"You two are my lawyers?" the girl, Felicia, asked as she took the seat opposite them.

"We are; assuming that we agree to take your case," Matt said, taking the lead. "My name is Matthew Murdock, this is my partner, Foggy Nelson. We're told that you've been charged with murder."

"I didn't do it! I didn't kill anyone!" Felicia stated forcefully, by the sound of it leaning forward in her intensity.

Matt cocked his head slightly as he listened to her heartrate and breathing.

"Why don't you tell us what happened, Miss Hardy," he said.

"I'll admit, I wasn't supposed to be there," Felicia began.

"The apartment of one James Broadshaw," Foggy supplied. "Just why were you there, Miss Hardy?"

"James used to date one of my friends," she replied. "My friend never got all of her stuff back from him, some of it was important to her and she was getting more and more upset. So, I decided to do something about it."

Lie.

"But he was already dead when I got there," she continued, her voice cracking with emotion on every other word. "He was just lying there; a knife sticking out of his chest and there was blood everywhere and his eyes ... he was just staring, staring up at nothing, you know?"

Truth.

"I went to check on him, to see if he still had a pulse or something and that's when the police busted in and arrested me," she finished.

Truth.

"I don't believe that you're telling us everything," Matt stated. "But I do believe that you didn't kill Mister Broadshaw. We'll take your case, but I must warn you that it'll go a lot easier if you trust us with telling us everything that you know."

"You believe me?" Felicia asked, hope filling her question. "You'll defend me?"

"We will," Foggy assured her. "Just sit tight and we'll see what we can do about arranging for bail and getting you out of here."

"Thank you," Felicia said.

After the two men had left the room, Foggy leaned in towards his partner.

"You believe she didn't kill the guy?" he asked in a near-whisper.

"I do," Matt replied, his cane tapping ahead as they walked. "She did not kill Mister Broadshaw; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, I don't believe her story about why she was there; we're going to have to get her to tell us the truth if we're to defend her case successfully."

"Shouldn't be a problem for you, gorgeous women seem to open up to you all the time," Foggy groused.

"Was she gorgeous?" Matt asked amusedly.

"Don't go using the 'blind card' again," Foggy accused. "I know you, Matt Murdock. If there's a gorgeous woman within a hundred feet, you can find her. And then end up dating her!"

Matt could hear the way his friend was shaking his head.

"Don't worry, Foggy. I have no intention of dating Miss Hardy; she is a little young, after all," Matt replied.

He chose to ignore the grumbling mumble of his friend as they continued their walk towards the appropriate counter in an attempt to arrange bail for their newest client.

ooo00ooo

Brown eyes scanned the street, seeking out any threat to his person.

This being New York meant that people were more inclined to ignore everyone else, intent on getting where they needed to go or be within the smallest amount of time and with the least amount of interaction with others as possible. This being Hell's Kitchen, the denizens were even more wary of interacting with others, giving each other a wide berth as they passed on the street.

He smiled to himself, one hand automatically reaching up to make sure that his black beanie was settled properly on his head, covering his most distinguishing feature. His eyes settled on a bar and he cocked his head as he considered it.

Its windows were mostly clean, but there was just enough grime on them to keep the casual glance from seeing what was happening inside. The rest of the building looked to be in good condition, solidly built even though it was old and showing its age.

With a nod, he crossed the street to get to it, striding straight inside as though he owned the place and he had nothing to fear, which was more true than anyone would ever realise.

Inside was sparsely populated by the usual low-life scum that one would find in dives like this – the perfect sort of people to get information from. He stepped up to the bar and settled onto a stool, two down from one of the patrons. A single raised finger signalled the barkeep.

"Whiskey. Neat," he ordered.

A glass was quickly placed in front of him before being filled. He nodded his thanks before taking a sip. Nice and smooth, just the way he liked it.

"I'm looking for a bit of information," he stated.

The barkeep's eyes shifted about the room nervously before settling back onto him.

"What do you want to know?" he asked. "Might be able to help, depending on what it is."

A single note was pushed across the bar only to quickly disappear.

"I'm new in town," he began. "And like the looks of this here neighbourhood. Seems a good place to do some ... business."

Glancing about, he could see that he had everyone's attention. As he continued, he plucked a toothpick from the nearby jar and began turning it about in his fingers.

"Thing is, being new, I don't know the lay of the land – where the best places to avoid or what the cops hereabouts are like," he said.

"It ain't the cops you gotta watch out for around here," one of the old men at a nearby table stated.

"You're in Hell's Kitchen, boy. Here, it's the devil you need to watch out for. He's always watching," his friend at the same table elaborated.

"And he'll eat you alive," the man on the stool just down from him chuckled. "A little guy like you don't stand a chance."

The toothpick he was turning over and over stilled, even as his mouth drew into a hard line.

"A 'devil', huh?" he asked, modulating his tone to give off an air of scepticism. "I'm thinking you guys are trying to pull one over on me."

"No bull, man," the first man stated. "The Devil's very real. Men and businesses have been suffering for a long time now. Most of the smart ones have moved away from the Kitchen because of him."

"Better take the same advice," stool bar man said with a broad grin. "Get out of the Kitchen while you still can. You won't last a day otherwise."

With one swallow, he finished off his whiskey before slamming the glass back onto the bar.

"Get out while you still can, before the Devil gets you, too," the same guy chuckled.

The toothpick still twirling in his fingers, he walked to the door. Then, just before he exited, he twirled, his hand coming up and the toothpick flying dead and true. The man at the bar grasped his throat as he began gagging.

Ignoring the dying man, he continued back onwards to the street. The regular people here were running scared, no wonder he'd been called in. Now to see his 'employer' and see what he'd get paid to rid the city of the devil on their shoulder.

ooo00ooo

The instant that Tony saw the missile tracking towards his Malibu home on the TV he knew that he'd made a mistake of epic proportions. Giving out his home address to terrorists was something that he'd never do again. Assuming that he lived through the next minute, that is. And that he still had a home.

As the missile hit and the world around him exploded, Tony knew that there was only one importance: protecting Pepper. The Mark 42 armour was the only one in the room, thankfully it had the new remote command function. Even as he was blown backwards, he could see the armour beginning to attach. Now whatever happened, everything would be alright.

The next five minutes were pure terror. The house was disintegrating around him; missiles were hitting at annoying regularity. Getting his armour back on his body helped him gain some confidence, after all, he'd taken on an army from space. The instant that the thought crossed his mind, Tony violently squashed it away – he had no time for a panic attack right then.

Two helicopters were down and he was about to get a bead on the third when the second crashed into what was left of the mansion.

There was no escape from what followed. Chucks of concrete; cars; furniture; the roof all crashed around him and took him with them in their slide down the cliff face and into the water. Through the facemask, he could only stare in horror at the sight of the rest of the house plummeting after him.

And then it landed, crashing into the sea floor around him and burying him alive. Tony could feel his heartrate spike and his breathing coming in short, sharp spurts.

"Sir, take a deep breath," Jarvis stated and all Tony could do was trust his A.I. with his very life.

ooo00ooo

Being in a small village in Brazil wasn't Bruce's first choice in life. But with his ... propensity to lose control, it was always best to be as far away from civilization as possible. At least if something went wrong, there was less chance for innocent people to get hurt out here in the middle of nowhere, not to mention the fact that the Hulk did seem to enjoy being able to roam free in the wilderness.

For the briefest of times, Bruce had thought that he might be able to stay in New York with his newest ... friends, allies, teammates, whatever they were. He knew that they, at least, had the power to contain the Hulk or at least redirect him somewhere safer. But what would be their new home needed some work done to it, so, for now, they'd separated, gone their own way to take care of what was important to them.

He'd been a medical doctor before, most recently in India where Natasha had found him. It was a good profession, not quite what he was trained for, but close enough to help people in small, out-of-the-way communities that wouldn't normally have access to medical help. And it made him feel as though he was giving something back, repaying humanity for the death and destruction that the Hulk had caused.

At the moment, Bruce was resting in his cabin, his usual medical hours in the village having finished an hour before. While he lay on his bed reading a medical journal, the radio played in the background, but it was merely noise, his attention wasn't on it.

A single name read out by the newsreader snapped his attention to the radio and he sat up in shock.

"... Stark. I repeat, word has come from Malibu, California of the presumed death of Tony Stark. There are confirmed reports of an unspecified number of armed helicopters firing missiles into Tony Stark's Malibu mansion, utterly destroying the mansion before the remains of the building, with the billionaire inside, sank to the bottom of the ocean. At this stage, Stark has not been found, either alive or dead. We will bring you more of this story as soon as we have it."

Before Bruce had even really considered what he was doing, he was up and moving about the room, gathering his meagre belongings and throwing them haphazardly into his bag.

To be honest, he wasn't sure exactly sure what he was hoping to accomplish, all he knew was that he wanted to be back in America, closer to his friends to celebrate with them when Tony was found. He refused to even consider any other scenario.

ooo00ooo

Harry had stood frozen in place as the news report, complete with footage from a nearby news helicopter, played on the television in the corner of the Marauder's Den.

"No no no no," Doreen was whispering, but Harry wasn't paying her the slightest attention.

A hand on his arm ripped Harry's attention from the TV. Big blue eyes stared at him in horror and understanding.

"Go," was all Gwen said.

With a nod, Harry turned and fled the Den, only just managing to stop himself from apparating or portkeying straight out of the place. Instead, Harry hurried to his apartment upstairs and into his room. There, he changed as fast has he could, donning his Mage outfit; after all, it would do no good to appear in Malibu where others could see without a way to hide his magic use.

As soon as he was ready, he tapped his face with his wand before tapping a small wooden spool and disappearing in a flash of multi-coloured light.

When Harry arrived, it was to almost immediately stumble backwards.

There was almost nothing left of Tony's mansion. A small amount of rubble remained; part of a wall here or there. And smoke; there was plenty of smoke and even a few flames off to either side.

Harry's mind drifted back over a dozen years and across to a different continent to the ruins of a massive castle, a castle that once was his home. Looking about, he immediately noted the biggest difference – the lack of bodies lying about. Shaking his head, he forced his mind back to the here and now, back to the reason that he'd come.

A figure off to one side caught his attention. She was dirty, covered in dust and ash, her hair was dishevelled and there were tear tracks running from her eyes.

"Pepper," Harry said as approached.

Pepper spun about, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him.

"Ha ... Mage," she said before throwing her arms around him and beginning to sob.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he gently patted her back.

"There were helicopters and ... explosions and and then Tony put his armour on me and he was still inside!" he babbled.

"Alright, he was inside, that doesn't mean that he's gone," Harry said, trying to reassure her. "Was he wearing one of his suits?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"There, then he's alright. Not much can damage that armour and you know that it's waterproof. Plus, he's got Jarvis in there to look after him," Harry said.

"You're right, you're right," Pepper said, pulling away and scrubbing her face with her hand. "He's going to be alright."

After giving her arm an extra pat, Harry strode across what was left of the house, pulling his wand as he did. From up here, it was impossible to see anything that the water had swallowed. That didn't stop him trying though.

"Homenum revelio!" he intoned, putting as much power into the spell as possible.

Unfortunately, it came up empty, but whether that was because Tony was dead or because he wasn't in there was anyone's guess.

"Accio Tony Stark!" Harry tried again.

Once again, his spell came up empty.

"Mage!"

Pepper's scream spun Harry around and he sprinted back to her. She was standing there, one of the Iron Man helmets in her hands.

"He's alive!" she grinned.

"How do you know? Where is he?" Harry asked urgently.

"He sent a

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