Fic: The Naming of Ghosts

May 03, 2007 12:17

Title: The Naming of Ghosts
Author: _medley_
Rating: PG; gen
Book or TV-verse: TV
Spoilers for “Birds of a Feather,” “What About Bob?” and “Things that Go Bump.”
POV: Bob
Summary: Names have power.

The Naming of Ghosts

“Hrothbert of Bainbridge, we hereby bind thy soul…” They had made an example of him. By the time the hour of his execution arrived, he had been in enough pain for a sufficient length of time that he was almost looking forward to the fall of the axe. That is, until he figured out what they planned to do. Someone was reciting his crimes against humanity and probably against the gods - he had lost track at some point, but that was fine; he knew what he’d done. He wasn’t even trying to focus anymore, until something caught his eye at the edge of his vision. They had forced him to his knees in the middle of a circle (not that it had taken much force by this time) and bound his hands behind him. He hadn’t bothered examining the runes around the circle; obviously they were there to prevent him from escaping. Binding runes. Nothing unusual about them, except-

They meant to bind his soul. Forever. To his body? No. His skull. He almost panicked then. Through this whole ordeal he hadn’t panicked, hadn’t begged, but the thought of an eternity of awareness of what he’d done, an eternity without Winifred, almost broke him. As if from a great distance, he felt them untie his hands, and then clamp iron, heavier and colder than it should have been, around his wrists. The cuffs were covered in runes so powerful he could read the shapes of them without even seeing them. He clamped his jaw shut to keep from screaming, some small prideful part of him refusing to give them the satisfaction, and then the axe fell and everything was swirling, disorienting darkness.

****

“Show yourself.” As if he was some kind of circus pony to be paraded for visitors. And then wasn’t Morningway quick to point out to this child that he was a “former” sorcerer. Hrothbert wasn’t sure what impulse prompted him to interrupt before Morningway could tell the boy what his crimes had been. Odd how the emotions of mortal life had lingered; he’d thought he was long past shame. Maybe it was just that Harry Dresden was the most innocent thing to cross his path in centuries. Under this roof, that innocence would be gone soon enough, and Morningway had been clear enough about how his pet sorcerer was to help the process along. He resisted the urge to rub his nonexistent wrists. Those manacles hadn’t felt quite so heavy in a very long time.

****

“Get back in your skull, ghost.” It was Morningway’s words on Harry’s tongue that convinced Bob he’d gone too far, even more so than the somewhat childish gesture that had obliterated his careful formula for the doom box. Coming from Justin, those words had been meant to put him in his place, remind him that he was Morningway’s to command. From Harry it was contempt, and Bob found that it didn’t sit well.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t done contemptible things in his life; he was well aware of every time he’d crossed the line from “sort of black magic, but only short-sighted fools would think so,” to the kinds of things that had led to him being bound to his skull for all eternity. But to hear that tone of voice from Harry…hurt. You’d think he’d be beyond such mortal hurts by now. After all, he didn’t technically have a heart.

As far as the formula went, well, what did he have but time? Suddenly his project didn’t seem all that appealing, though. He was going to have to apologize to Harry.

****

“Come out, ghost.” Bob thought he had covered it up pretty well, but that was definitely a voice he had never expected to hear again. And then the bastard had said “Lost love,” knowing where Bob’s mind would go, and for one split second he’d had something resembling hope. Hope and terror, because what could possibly be left of his Winifred after all these centuries? Between that and the damnable arrow, he’d been so off-balance he was lucky he’d been able to convince Justin’s double that he was on his side. Unfortunately, Harry had been persuaded as well. Well, fortunately, since that helped convince Justin, caused Justin to let down his guard, but it had still been painful to think that Harry believed him capable of such a betrayal.

Bob felt the pull of the ancient binding spell even as he was dying. If he’d had more time he’d have reassured Harry that he wasn’t going anywhere, but as it was he had to content himself with trying to explain his actions, and hope Harry could see how much Bob had hated to hurt him. Harry’s relief at his return to spirit form made the loss of his all-too-temporary mortal body much easier to bear, and his old familiar skull had never felt more like home.

****

“Your ghost -- Bob! He’s back!” The instant Bob stepped into the darkness, the link to his skull was severed. He never thought he’d miss the pull of the restraints. He’d imagined being free of them a thousand times, only it hadn’t been nearly so dark and terrifying in his imagination. Still, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find the way through, surely? Or the way back? It took an embarrassingly short time for him to become completely disoriented, and he was trying to calm himself and be rational when he heard something in the darkness call his name. He still had his pride, but nothing out here that sounded like that could possibly remember him fondly. He started to run but was all too quickly ensnared and surrounded.

Later, he could never say exactly how much time he’d spent in the darkness, although it seemed much longer than the hour or so that had passed for Harry and the others. He had come back out of breath, as if something with no lungs needed to breathe. Harry had teased him about it later. Much later, when they’d both had time to recover and it started to be something they could joke about. What Bob didn’t mention was that he was almost certain he only got away because his former name had begun to lose its power over him. Somewhere along the way, Hrothbert of Bainbridge had become Bob, clearly enough that even the horrors waiting for him in the darkness couldn’t bind him with his mortal name for long.
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