31. Miscommunication / Bob the Skull
Title: Little Boy Lost
Author: Cyloran
Characters: Bob, Harry
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Prompt: 31. Miscommunication
Word Count: 1,285
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry is avoiding Bob.
Disclaimer: Not mine but I can dream, can't I?
Author's Note: Epilogue to What About Bob?
Table: Here There be Ghosts.
It was the last thing he expected from Murphy's visit. Then again, that's what made her Murphy. Just when you thought she was going to do the hard-line, by-the-book cop thing, she went and did something like this.
Harry stared at the small picture frame in his hand, completely at a loss for words. His father smiled up at him from the old photograph, his hands resting on the shoulders of 11 year old Harry. It was a happy moment frozen in time, when he was loved by someone for who he was and not for what his power could make of him.
"That appears to have gone rather well," said Bob as he walked through the wall into the apartment. "All's well that ends well and everything back to normal." He nodded toward the object in Harry's hand. "What do you have there? A gift from the Lieutenant?"
"Nothing." Harry laid the frame flat on the table, face down.
Bob was mildly surprised by the abrupt response. "It certainly looks like a something to me."
"It's nothing you'd be interested in. Forget about it."
"Why not let me be the judge of that?"
"Not right now." Harry hooked his leather jacket from the back of the chair where he'd tossed it. "Maybe later."
"You're going out?"
"I need some air," replied Harry curtly as he grabbed his keys and staff.
"What's wrong with the air in here?" Bob's only response was the rattle of the door as it closed behind Harry's retreating back.
Bewildered, Bob turned to look once more at the object laying face down on the table. He didn't need to see what lay hidden beneath; he'd recognized the gold metallic frame almost immediately. It, and the photograph it contained, had been on display for years in Justin Morningway's study.
"Nothing I'd be interested in?" he mused aloud.
Why in Herne's name would Harry say such a thing? Surely after all of these years he knew Bob better than that. Didn't he?
~ ~ ~
It was well past midnight when Harry returned home, slipping inside like a school boy out past curfew. Gently closing the door behind him, he eased the lock into place, automatically setting the wards. He didn't expect to see Bob. Without anyone to talk to, the old ghost had probably long since gone back into his skull; or so Harry hoped.
He slipped off his tennis shoes and padded barefoot across the room. The frame was still there, exactly as he'd left it. Lifting it, he looked once more into the smiling eyes of his father.
"Harry," said a quiet voice directly behind him.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "DAMMIT, Bob!" he snapped. "How many times have I told you not to creep up on me like that?"
"Next time I'll be certain to rattle a few chains." The ghost's normally caustic riposte was marred by the expression on his long face. That he was worried was obvious; that he was hurt was painfully clear. "Harry, we need to talk."
"Sure. Fine. We'll talk," said Harry with a curt wave of his hand. "But not right now, okay? It's late and I'm beat." He began to mount the stairs to the loft, effectively dismissing the ghost. "It'll have to wait til tomorrow." Or the next day. Maybe even never.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Bob once more found himself speaking to Harry's retreating back. "Have I done something to upset you?"
The anguish in the words stopped Harry in midstep, turning him back around. Bob stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up. Surely it was a trick of the candlelight that made it seem as if there were tears misting the pale blue eyes.
Bob's gaze shifted to the photograph gripped in Harry's hand. As if it were a lifeline. "This has to do with Justin and his double, doesn't it?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, absently moving the frame so that it lay flat against his leg, safely hidden. He could lie, of course. It would be easy enough to say that what had happened between them was no big deal; that it hadn't damaged his trust.
But Bob knew Harry far too well. He saw the lie forming before Harry could speak it. It was answer enough.
"I'm sorry," he said in a heavy voice. "It was cruel of me, I know, to leave you in the dark like that, but there was no other way. Justin had to believe I was capable of betraying you, else all would have been lost." His voice softened. "I thought you understood. Apparently I was mistaken."
"What makes you think I don't understand?" asked Harry as he descended the stairs to confront the ghost. "Sure, it hurt like hell at first, thinking you'd just hand me over like that. It was a good act, Bob. A great act. Good enough for a Tony. You really had me going there, right up to the finale."
"Perhaps a bit too convincing," surmised Bob unhappily. "That's it, isn't it? Why you've been avoiding me. You're still not certain, are you? You're wondering if I seriously considered sacrificing your life to be mortal again."
"I'm not losing sleep over it, if that's what you mean. But yeah, okay, it's occurred to me. I mean, you said it yourself, right?" His words were bitter and filled with pain. "You'd like to say it was fun but being with me has been hell."
"You-what?" Bob was staggered. They were his words, yes; or an approximation of them. "You thought I meant you?"
"Who else? I'm the guy you've been stuck serving the past five years." This time it was the little boy, alone and abandoned, that looked out through Harry's dark eyes. "Has it really been hell, Bob? Have I been that bad a master?"
Suddenly Bob understood. This wasn't about him; it was about them and the shadow of Harry's greatest fear: loss.
It's me, marveled Bob, blinking back the threat of tears. He's afraid of losing me.
"You've been a great many things, Harry, but not that. Never that."
"But you said-"
"Yes, I know what I said. More importantly, now I know what you heard," said Bob with gentle assurance. "I was speaking of Justin and my fleeting return to mortality, Harry. Being able to touch the physical world again after so many centuries; that was glorious! But at what price? I would merely be exchanging one form of slavery for another. Worse, I would lose you in the bargain."
Bob sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of the centuries on his shoulders. "Convincing you that I was capable of carrying out such a betrayal - even going so far as to drain part of your life's force to continue the ruse - that was pure hell. For both of us, I would imagine." Best intentions aside, he would hate himself for it to the End of Days.
"But then you gave it up. Your life." For me. Harry looked down at the photograph. Like everyone I've ever cared about.
"No regrets, Harry. I did so gladly."
"You didn't even think twice about it, did you?"
"No." It was a simple truth. Even before Morningway's double had restored his mortality, Bob had plotted the losing of it.
"You scared the crap out of me, Bob."
"I know. And for that I am truly sorry."
"I thought I'd lost you." Like my Dad.
"You'll never lose me, Harry. As long as you're willing to keep me around, I'll always be here for you." Bob offered him an affectionate, watery little smile. "I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me."
Author: Cyloran
Characters: Bob, Harry
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Prompt: 31. Miscommunication
Word Count: 1,285
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry is avoiding Bob.
Disclaimer: Not mine but I can dream, can't I?
Author's Note: Epilogue to What About Bob?
Table: Here There be Ghosts.
It was the last thing he expected from Murphy's visit. Then again, that's what made her Murphy. Just when you thought she was going to do the hard-line, by-the-book cop thing, she went and did something like this.
Harry stared at the small picture frame in his hand, completely at a loss for words. His father smiled up at him from the old photograph, his hands resting on the shoulders of 11 year old Harry. It was a happy moment frozen in time, when he was loved by someone for who he was and not for what his power could make of him.
"That appears to have gone rather well," said Bob as he walked through the wall into the apartment. "All's well that ends well and everything back to normal." He nodded toward the object in Harry's hand. "What do you have there? A gift from the Lieutenant?"
"Nothing." Harry laid the frame flat on the table, face down.
Bob was mildly surprised by the abrupt response. "It certainly looks like a something to me."
"It's nothing you'd be interested in. Forget about it."
"Why not let me be the judge of that?"
"Not right now." Harry hooked his leather jacket from the back of the chair where he'd tossed it. "Maybe later."
"You're going out?"
"I need some air," replied Harry curtly as he grabbed his keys and staff.
"What's wrong with the air in here?" Bob's only response was the rattle of the door as it closed behind Harry's retreating back.
Bewildered, Bob turned to look once more at the object laying face down on the table. He didn't need to see what lay hidden beneath; he'd recognized the gold metallic frame almost immediately. It, and the photograph it contained, had been on display for years in Justin Morningway's study.
"Nothing I'd be interested in?" he mused aloud.
Why in Herne's name would Harry say such a thing? Surely after all of these years he knew Bob better than that. Didn't he?
~ ~ ~
It was well past midnight when Harry returned home, slipping inside like a school boy out past curfew. Gently closing the door behind him, he eased the lock into place, automatically setting the wards. He didn't expect to see Bob. Without anyone to talk to, the old ghost had probably long since gone back into his skull; or so Harry hoped.
He slipped off his tennis shoes and padded barefoot across the room. The frame was still there, exactly as he'd left it. Lifting it, he looked once more into the smiling eyes of his father.
"Harry," said a quiet voice directly behind him.
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "DAMMIT, Bob!" he snapped. "How many times have I told you not to creep up on me like that?"
"Next time I'll be certain to rattle a few chains." The ghost's normally caustic riposte was marred by the expression on his long face. That he was worried was obvious; that he was hurt was painfully clear. "Harry, we need to talk."
"Sure. Fine. We'll talk," said Harry with a curt wave of his hand. "But not right now, okay? It's late and I'm beat." He began to mount the stairs to the loft, effectively dismissing the ghost. "It'll have to wait til tomorrow." Or the next day. Maybe even never.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Bob once more found himself speaking to Harry's retreating back. "Have I done something to upset you?"
The anguish in the words stopped Harry in midstep, turning him back around. Bob stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up. Surely it was a trick of the candlelight that made it seem as if there were tears misting the pale blue eyes.
Bob's gaze shifted to the photograph gripped in Harry's hand. As if it were a lifeline. "This has to do with Justin and his double, doesn't it?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, absently moving the frame so that it lay flat against his leg, safely hidden. He could lie, of course. It would be easy enough to say that what had happened between them was no big deal; that it hadn't damaged his trust.
But Bob knew Harry far too well. He saw the lie forming before Harry could speak it. It was answer enough.
"I'm sorry," he said in a heavy voice. "It was cruel of me, I know, to leave you in the dark like that, but there was no other way. Justin had to believe I was capable of betraying you, else all would have been lost." His voice softened. "I thought you understood. Apparently I was mistaken."
"What makes you think I don't understand?" asked Harry as he descended the stairs to confront the ghost. "Sure, it hurt like hell at first, thinking you'd just hand me over like that. It was a good act, Bob. A great act. Good enough for a Tony. You really had me going there, right up to the finale."
"Perhaps a bit too convincing," surmised Bob unhappily. "That's it, isn't it? Why you've been avoiding me. You're still not certain, are you? You're wondering if I seriously considered sacrificing your life to be mortal again."
"I'm not losing sleep over it, if that's what you mean. But yeah, okay, it's occurred to me. I mean, you said it yourself, right?" His words were bitter and filled with pain. "You'd like to say it was fun but being with me has been hell."
"You-what?" Bob was staggered. They were his words, yes; or an approximation of them. "You thought I meant you?"
"Who else? I'm the guy you've been stuck serving the past five years." This time it was the little boy, alone and abandoned, that looked out through Harry's dark eyes. "Has it really been hell, Bob? Have I been that bad a master?"
Suddenly Bob understood. This wasn't about him; it was about them and the shadow of Harry's greatest fear: loss.
It's me, marveled Bob, blinking back the threat of tears. He's afraid of losing me.
"You've been a great many things, Harry, but not that. Never that."
"But you said-"
"Yes, I know what I said. More importantly, now I know what you heard," said Bob with gentle assurance. "I was speaking of Justin and my fleeting return to mortality, Harry. Being able to touch the physical world again after so many centuries; that was glorious! But at what price? I would merely be exchanging one form of slavery for another. Worse, I would lose you in the bargain."
Bob sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of the centuries on his shoulders. "Convincing you that I was capable of carrying out such a betrayal - even going so far as to drain part of your life's force to continue the ruse - that was pure hell. For both of us, I would imagine." Best intentions aside, he would hate himself for it to the End of Days.
"But then you gave it up. Your life." For me. Harry looked down at the photograph. Like everyone I've ever cared about.
"No regrets, Harry. I did so gladly."
"You didn't even think twice about it, did you?"
"No." It was a simple truth. Even before Morningway's double had restored his mortality, Bob had plotted the losing of it.
"You scared the crap out of me, Bob."
"I know. And for that I am truly sorry."
"I thought I'd lost you." Like my Dad.
"You'll never lose me, Harry. As long as you're willing to keep me around, I'll always be here for you." Bob offered him an affectionate, watery little smile. "I'm afraid you're quite stuck with me."