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The Manor (DudeMeister&SHARPii)

Harper was glad he said that. She worried that he would resent her if he did something that wasn't as fun or what he liked and all because she ultimately pushed him. She wanted him to be happy and do what he enjoyed. She was just glad that he wanted to change this as well. Otherwise, she'd support him no matter what. Besides, what was life without a little bit of edge or excitement?

They soon arrived to her mother's place and she still wore a big smile on her face, ready to get out when he said to stay in the car. She blinked her eyes and became very worried, just from that bit of doubt.
Still, she got out of the car as he made his way over to the door and leaned against the door and looked forward. "Hawthorne, I think you're just being paranoid. My mom's house is the safest place ever." She shut the door and walked over towards the front door, after him.
 
"Maybe you're right" he said.

"Still...stay behind me and if you hear anything run to the car and drive away" he said. He soon knocked on the door, praying that everything was alright. He hoped with all his heart that Sly didn't somehow find out about her mother and did something. He hoped that she would answer the door and she would reunite with her daughter and the two of them could be safe while he settled the whole thing. If anything happened to her, he couldn't forgive himself, and he'd know that Harper would hate him forever...and she'd have the right to.
 
Harper nodded her head and waited as he knocked on the door. Her arms crossed over her chest and she waited. No answer. No answer. No answer. This was starting to make her nervous, very nervous, since her mom always answered the door.
"I have a key!" She said almost frantically and whipped the key out, it being on a chain with all her other keys. Shaky hands worked to unlock the door and when she heard the click, she turned the knob and walked in. She didn't wait for Hawthorne. She wanted to find why her mom didn't answer the door. Her car was in the driveway. She had to be home. "Mom?" She called out. Then she started seeing blood stains.

She thought for a moment she was just seeing red spots but as she walked along, the stains got more and more and then she stopped dead in her tracks, her keys falling out of her hands. She didn't even hear them make a clatter on the wooden floors.
 
Hawthorne's fear rose as he heard no answer. Please let her be ok. When they walked in he trailed behind her, and when he saw the bloodstains he knew that his worst fears were realized. Staggering through the door behind her

"Harper be care-" he trailed off, seeing the horror that she saw. He saw the corpse...he could believe it. How could that crazed psychopath do this to her? She was a innocent woman...what did she ever do to him? Why did she have to be killed for something she knew nothing about? For Harper to be involved with him. It was all his fault!!! He couldn't even imagine the pain that Harper was experiencing, but he knew his whole world would come apart at the seams....

The mother of the woman he loved was dead, and all because of him. If only he hadn't pursued Harper, she would have been alive. He didn't know how to react. He leaned against the wall in shock. He was the scum of the Earth...he should have let her alone

"Harper...I'm so sorry" he said, well actually whispered, feeling a lump in his throat. He knew that Harper would never forgive him for this...and she'd be right to hate him for all eternity.

"..I never intended for this to happen" he rasped out, not sure how to handle this. Rage began to burn inside of him He had to find Sly, and kill him for what he did!
 
"Mom..." She whispered, gasping even as she hurried to her. Her mother lay on her back, a single bullet hole lodged into her heart. Her eyes were staring at the ceiling, lifeless, her mouth open, blood all over her clothes, blood spots and splatters on her cheeks and even worse, she could see the dried tear stains. Harper's eyes watered immediately and she cupped her cheeks and pressed her forehead to hers. "Oh Mom..."

She started crying. Harper didn't cry much. She didn't usually find anything to cry about or over. But this...this was exactly the thing that could make her entire world fall apart. His world fell apart? No, her world fell apart. Her mother was all she had, the best thing in her life and her best friend. And she was gone and for what? Because Harper was with Hawthorne? Because this Sly guy was a horrible person who wanted to bring pain to anyone when he didn't get his way?

Did Harper blame Hawthorne? A tiny bit.
Did she hate him? Not even close to it.

She sat down on the ground, on her bottom, cradling her mother's lifeless corpse in her arms. She was getting her blood all over her but she didn't care. She just cried, holding onto her as if she was afraid to let her go. Like if she did, she'd be taken away from her a second time and Harper couldn't take that.
 
Hawthorne inched his way over to her, racked with guilt. He resolved to find Sly and make him die a slow and painful death. There would be no clean and peaceful way to resolve this. Right now, the world was not big enough for the two of them. He would hunt him down and kill him without his employer's help. But right now, he needed to be there for Harper...and make it clear that she could back out of the relationship at any time.

"I am so sorry...I can't even imagine what you are going through. I never wanted this to happen...your mother was a good and dear person to you" he said, sitting beside her

"I promise you that he will pay for what he did...and than you never have to see me again. My god...you must hate me so much" he said, still shaken up

(would it be possible to skip a bit? This scene is giving me too many feels....like the roll over and try not to cry sorta feels)
 
[Yeah sure thing! I feel the same way :[ But I'll skip like a...week.]

Everything Hawthorne was saying was going through one ear and out the other. It's not that she didn't believe him or want to hear it. But nothing he said or did would bring her mother back. Even if he got Sly and killed him, nothing would change this. And she had to accept that, she had to accept her mother's death before she could do anything.

It all seemed like such a blur, the next week that went by. They went back to town and she went back to her place. If he tried to say anything, stopping her from going to her place or doing anything, she didn't listen. She'd just shut the door in his face because right now she was up to her knees in stuff to do. She still had her job which she called. She told them about her mother. They gave her some time off, paid as well.

It was good too because she was going out of her way to give a good funeral, a good service. Even if it was killing her. She broke down several times during this week just out of nowhere. From either looking at coffins to looking at dresses to dress her mother in, to just looking at herself in the mirror. But finally, the day of the funeral came. She just invited family. People in her mother's address book that she had red flagged meaning, she still talked to them. They all showed up.

She even sent an invitation to Hawthorne. Not to spite him. But...maybe he could come and just sort of be there if he wasn't too busy. Because they were all standing in the graveyard and already as people started coming and giving her their condolences--she stood alone--it was already becoming too much. She could feel another break down. Her eyes started to water and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to compose herself. She looked stunning too. Honestly, she was a spitting image of her mother who had always been so kind to her in giving her beauty, sharing it. She was wearing a sleeveless black dress with layers of tulle underneath it. It came to her knees with a flowing skirt. But the bodice was tight, form fitting. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail with her bangs parted over her forehead and she wore very soft and neutral make up. No amount of make up could hide the red rims or bagginess under her eyes. She was in hell.

And each time she kept looking towards the row of cars that would show up for his. Hawthorne's.
 
(So...do you have any ideas concerning Hawthorne vs Sly?)

Despite his best intentions to advise her not to go back to her apartment...she did just the opposite. At this point she hated him, and he didn't blame her. He was responsible for her mother's death. No amount of heartfelt apology or oaths of vengeance could bring her back. Harper was gone to him, and the only thing he could do was plan to take down Sly before he caused more carnage. The week was spent trying to get every scrap of information he could on Sly: locations, illegal activities, bank statements, phone records, etc. He was so embroiled in his activities that if it wasn't for one of his girls bringing him the invitation he would've missed it.

The day of the funeral he did the sensible thing of getting into a well pressed suit and parking his car at the cemetery's main parking lot and venturing to the sight of the final burial on foot. He saw many family members, but he kept his distance. It would be a spit in their faces to show up at the final services...considering it was all his fault. He saw Harper from a distance...god she looked like hell. He planned to approach her after the service to set things straight, and elected to stay in the back of the crowd.
 
The service soon began. She was hesitant because she thought she’d see him. Just the fact that he wouldn’t come, or didn’t come or wouldn’t even find her, made her angry at him. Angrier than she had already been. At him. So by the service started and she was sitting down in the first chair, staring at the shiny black coffin with an adornment of her mother’s favorite flowers—peonies—her eyes looked lifeless. As if she was just staring but seeing nothing. Like she was listening but hearing nothing.

That only when her mother’s youngest brother whom she hadn’t even seen since she was a baby nudged her. She was being asked to say something, since she was her mother’s only child after all. This was where it became hard. But she took in a deep breath and somehow managed to stand, walking to the front to talk to everyone that was there.

The service ended and Harper was nowhere to be found. After the ceremony, they gathered at her mother’s youngest brother’s house. He had pictures of them all growing up and of course pictures of her mom. People were downstairs, eating, talking about her mom, talking about Harper but she was in her uncle’s office and staring at a picture of her mom. She was crying. She just buried her mother and the realization sunk in right in this very moment.

Her mom was never coming back. And what made it worse? Hawthorne didn’t care. He didn’t even show up…
 
Hawthorne indeed did care. He tried to go to her as everyone was leaving, but before he knew it she stepped into someone's car and she was gone. At this point there was nothing he could do. It would be a bad idea to follow them. Walking over to the burial site he laid a bouquet of roses and left, going back to the Manor. Once there he sat in his office and stared at his cellphone. Before long Sly would call him and gloat, and perhaps even threaten to kill Harper. No...it was time to face him. Picking it up he dialed the number and waited for him to answer.
 
At one point Harper got a bit hysterical. Her uncle and his wife had to calm her down, help her and finally decided it would be better if she just slept, considering she hadn't done very much of that. So that's where she was right now. She was asleep on her uncle's bed, curled up on her side. Her aunt was sitting beside her, stroking her hair and trying to offer some comfort. Her uncle, Hoyt, vowed then on that he'd be there to look over and help take care of his big sister's daughter. He hadn't been there before really and he regretted it big time. He knew that Harper was an adult but she needed family. At least this way she wouldn't be alone.

Sly was waiting around and rather patiently. He knew what it would do by killing that girl's mother and he knew it'd take some time for things to settle down. He was happy to wait, watching in his own way and seeing how everyone fell apart. How that girl fell apart because of her mother's death and how Hawthorne fell apart in the fact that he might truly easily lose the girl he was mad for because of this. But the truth of the matter was it was no one's fault but Sly's.

The phone rang and he grinned broadly. He waited a couple of rings before picking it up. He lit himself up a cigarette and leaned back in his chair, it creaking a deafening sound. Blowing out the plume of smoke that clouded around him, he was still wearing that sickly evil broad smile. "It's about time."
 
"Good evening you hateful bastard" Hawthorne seethed out coldly

"Well...now that you killed a poor innocent woman I guess it's time we talked things over. If you ever grow the balls to meet up and settle this one on one tell me now" he said

"But something tells you that a fair fight is not your cup of tea. It seems that gunning down innocent and defenseless women is your style" he added
 
Sly snickered and he sat back, clearly enjoying Hawthorne's ire. It was very appropriately placed of course but it didn't mean it entertained him less. "Oh come now..." He drawled, ashing his cigarette.
"I told you from the beginning Old Sport, if you didn't give me what I wanted, there would be worse consequences. You didn't listen to me. Sure, I said that your little girlfriend would die but you kind of thwarted that. So I took matters into my own hands when the place you sent me, there was no one!" He barked down the line.

"You lied to me. And because of that, your girlfriend paid a far steeper price than her own life." He snapped.
"So if you want to finish this once and for all, then I'll be waiting. I've at least taken action. You just kept hiding. So when you're ready for your balls to drop, to take some action, you know where to find me." And then he hung up, seething angry.
 
He knew it could be a trap...but at this point what choice did he have? Who's to say he won't try to kill Harper if he wasn't dealt with? Getting up from his desk he opened a safe and took out a pistol and a couple of clips. Buckling a shoulder holster he tucked the gun in it and put a leather jacket on. He drove towards the mansion were Sly ran his operations. He parked a few meters away and climbed over the wall. It made no sense to just knock on the door and say good evening.

Before long he scaled a wall and entered an office. Luck was with him that night: judging by the pictures on the wall it was Sly's. Hearing footsteps he quickly hid behind a door and readied his gun. He wasn't going to shoot him, but just incase he tried anything funny he would have an edge. Plus...he had a trump card up his sleeve
 
Sly waited after he slammed the receiver back down. He waited, smoked, waited more and then with reflexes like a cat, he stood up quietly and grabbed his gun from his desk drawer. He wasn't about to shoot anything off yet. No, like any calm man who knew what he wanted, he took his time to get where he wanted. Why waste it? He had been waiting for this for years. He wanted to enjoy it, salvage it. He wanted to make sure Hawthorne felt all the pain he did. Worse.

The door opened and his gun pointed forward for a second before it suddenly flipped to hang on his finger by the trigger. There, Sly stepped out, hands in the air as if a mock surrender and he looked Hawthorne dead in the eye. "Hawthorne Tisch." He grinned, a smug grin. "Step into my office." He nodded his head towards the entrance, waiting for him to go in.
 
"Shut the fuck up" he said, taking his gun and dispensing the clip. Despite the fact that Sly was at the point of his gun, he couldn't be careless now.

"Turn around" he ordered, shoving him to the wall when he did. He patted him down for any weapons.

"So...how about you take a seat...over there mind you" he said, pointing to a chair on the other side of his desk. He than pulled the swivel chair away from his desk and to the side: if any of his goons came in through the door, he'd be out of the line of fire.

"Now...I suppose that your demented brain has concocted a plan to set me back in some way. So...do you care to gloat about it now or do I have to shoot you in the knees" he said, taking the seat and pointing the gun to him
 
Sly couldn’t help the grin. Perhaps he had a death wish. Perhaps all these years of being miserable and plotting revenge as obsessively as he had to avenge his wife and child drove him into some insanity. So maybe all he was asking for was for Hawthorne to just pull that trigger.

He went willing, didn’t make a sound, didn’t even fight him on this. Not yet at least and he sat down in the chair. He sat back casually with that smug grin on his face. So he was going to gloat alright.

“Look at you. Obsessed. Because I ruined anything with you and that girl?” He snorted and then he leaned stood up and attacked, grabbing Hawthorne’s wrist and twisted it, so at least the gun was no longer pointed at his knee before he aimed a punch at his jaw. “Now you know how it feels.”
 
Hawthorne cringed as he felt Sly's fist collide against his face. Gritting his teeth he head butted him in the face with the intention of breaking his nose. He than tackled him to the ground and mounted him and began to beat him senselessly. His first punch collided against his jaw, and he heard it pop. Despite hitting Sly hard, Hawthorne was infuriated: no matter how hard he punched Sly, it wouldn't be enough.

There was no pre-meditated blows, no 'professional' precision: his wish was only to beat Sly to a pulp, raining down brutal elbows, punches, and forearm strikes.

"Your time is up Sly! I had nothing to do with your family's death! You had no right to kill innocents!" he yelled, getting up and picking up the gun. His knuckles were bruised, and he had trouble closing his hand, but he didn't pay attention to that

"Presently the authorities will receive an anonymous tip about the warehouse where you stockpiled automatic weapons and drugs. After some 'persuading' your so called right hand man Gerald gave everything to me. He also told me about your money laundering and extortion activities. Your whole gang is going to prison, as well as everybody who did business with you" he said

"It's over Sly...consider yourself destroyed" he said, looking at the bloody mess that was his former friend
 
Even he couldn't ignore the blows. But he didn't stop them, even if he had landed the first one first. At least he did but now he lay there on his back, trying to fight off Hawthorne until the first blow landed and it was a sickening crack. The pain was excruciating but it was the first time he felt anything since his wife and child were killed. And it felt so good. He didn't bother fighting Hawthorne and soon here was right there, beaten to a pulp, feeling so much, it was too excruciating. He just wanted an end. He needed an end.

He listened to Hawthorne and he chuckled weakly, breathing hard, unable to move. "Then do it." He whispered weakly. "Because I was already dead the day you took everything from me." He lifted his head and for that moment, anyone could see the ugly truth of what Sly was saying. He had been dead since the day his wife and child were killed. He used women as meaningless toys for his own amusement and tempering insanity but it was never anything more than that. He never really felt. Until now. And he wanted nothing more than to see them again.

"If you were ever my friend, even after everything I've done, you'll give this to me." He worried that he'd be seen as a coward for wanting that easy way out but it was essentially true. He was a mad man who never coped with the two deaths that unhinged him.
"What do you say Tisch?"
 
Hawthorne hated being accused of killing his family. All he did was help in the trial against the Ukrainian mob. Sly was obviously unhinged from this, and blamed Hawthorne almost as if he himself pulled the trigger. Hearing his wish for death he gulped and procured a silencer from his coat and screwed it onto the gun. He was a good man once. How could he fall so far? The world would be a better place without this man...but he was Hawthorne's friend at one point in his life.

Walking over to him he pointed the gun at his head and looked to him, his grip on the gun shaking.

"You were a great man once. I can't comprehend how you could allow yourself to fall down this much. What you did was horrible: you killed, extorted, and smuggled drugs into this country. However you were my friend once. I hope this provides you with some measure of peace" he said, a tear forming as he squeezed...sending his former friend to the next world

Walking out of the mansion he wiped the gun down of fingerprints and threw it aside as if it was a dead rat. He swore that it will be the last time he handled a weapon. The authorities will eventually happen upon this place...and probably blame Sly's death on a contract killer full filing a vendetta of a rival gang. Either way, Hawthorne was out of this business.

(So...any ideas how we get him and Harper back together?)
 
The police were eventually notified. Not too long after Hawthorne left and made sure nothing tied back to him. The case closed pretty quick just because of who it was and who had found him. Sly’s right hand man and also legal aid, lawyer, found him and surmised that it’d be best if this entire situation got cleaned up quick so not to bring further unwanted attention. That along with a pretty hefty payout to the officers who came, the case closed. The story was a deal had gone bad and Sly paid the price. And with as many ramifications against him, all his charges that would have landed him life or the death penalty, it didn’t seem to matter anyways. Because who profited from all this? Sly’s right hand man and lawyer, the one who advised him into everything under the notion that it would benefit him. It wouldn’t. It got Sly killed. And this lawyer? Well he went free and just became insanely rich, his ultimate outcome.

Meanwhile, Harper was back at her apartment but her uncle insisted that she come by for dinner that night. She kept trying to refuse but he and her aunt promptly made it clear that they weren’t going to take her no for an answer and she cracked a meager smile for the first time since everything.

She was at her apartment though, just curled up on her couch with a blanket wrapped around her and indulging in Rocky Road ice cream. She had put on a movie as well. Never Been Kissed. Yeah, not exactly the most family movie. While she was devastated over her mother’s death, she was also devastated about Hawthorne. He didn’t come. He didn’t call. He didn’t say or do anything. She wanted him at the funeral. God, she had hoped he would come there so they could talk. Sure, Harper knew she could easily pick up her phone and call him. It’s why she kept staring at her cell phone every five minutes, always missing the good scenes. She was either hoping it’d start ringing or gathering the courage to call him.

It wasn’t his fault. None of it was. Everything just happened but she didn’t blame him. If she did before, she didn’t anymore. Not even an ounce.
 
After the whole ordeal passed, Hawthorne sat at his desk, his injured hand wrapped up in bandages. He looked at the cell phone at his desk, many thoughts going through his mind. Should he call her? Did he even have the right to after all the pain he caused her? Of course he didn't! Her mother was killed because of him. A innocent, and probably sweet woman was shot for something that she didn't even know about! Although he wished with every fiber of his being that if he called her they'd patch things up, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

He pocketed the phone and sighed walking out of the Manor and pacing around the grounds to clear his head. He was in the process of getting out of this business, but that didn't mean he would leave his girls without helping them find work in some way. For all intensive purposes, the Manor was dead. No more working with the mob. He would go straight. He felt the phone in his pocket and sighed. He could at least tell her that she was safe, and she won't have to be afraid of being kidnapped or killed ever again. Dialing her phone number he heard it ring a couple of times before he heard it being picked up.

"Hey Harper...is this a good time?" he asked her softly
 
Each time, her eyes darted to her phone. Nothing. So she gorged herself with more ice cream. Not sloppily but soon the entire container was empty and her movie was over. And that was when she sat there and faced the ugly truth. It was really over. All of it. Just like the movie. Just like the ice cream. Everything with her and Hawthorne was over and just when that had sunk in and tears stung her vision, her phone rang.

Harper gasped softly as she looked at it and saw his name flashing on the screen for caller-ID. She wiped her eyes quickly and with a shaky hand, picked up her phone, answering immediately. "Hello?"
It was him. It really was him. "Y-Yeah of course. Are you okay? What's going on?" She wanted to know. She genuinely wanted to know. More than anything, she wanted to see him. She wished he came to the funeral.
 
When he heard her voice, he was relieved that she answered him. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Hey Harper. Nothing much has been going on" he said. It wasn't like he was going to tell her that he just killed Sly!

"I was just calling to tell you that you are safe from now on. You can rest easy and know that nobody will lay a finger on you" he added

"Also...I'd completely understand if you hate me and never want to see or hear from me again. I caused you a lot of pain, and I'm sorry." he finished
 
Really? Nothing has been going on?
"What does that mean Hawthorne?" She asked softly. "What happened to Sly?" She was worried, not for what he did, but also wondering it meant for them. As a couple. The both of them. Hoping that there'd be something. Oh, she desperately wished of it.
"I don't hate you." She almost whispered. No if anything, it was the exact opposite. Even if they hardly knew each other.
"It's not your fault." Her voice broke. "None of it is your fault." She said softly. "And I'd be the lowest human being if I ever let you think it was your fault." She knew she sounded like she was full on crying now. That's because she was.
"Why didn't you come to the funeral?"
 
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