The Dresden Files / Bob the Skull / 26. Psychosis
Title: Ghost Whisperer
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 26. Psychosis
Word Count: 1,601
Rating: G
Summary: Harry tries to help a frustrated mother.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
"I'm at my wit's end, Mr. Dresden." Underscoring her words, the tall, shapely blond wrung the slender hands held primly in her lap. "We've been to medical doctors, school counselors, child psychologists, and even our parish priest."
"So I'm your last resort."
"Yes. I mean - no!" She sighed her frustration. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds terrible. I didn't mean it in that way--"
"No, of course not."
"--but I don't know who else I can turn to."
"When conventional avenues fail, look for the unconventional, is that it?"
"Something like that," she admitted. Her expression might have been charmingly sheepish if not for the fact that she was so clearly upset. "Can you help me?"
"I don't know," said Harry honestly, "but I can promise that I'll try." He leaned forward in his chair, taking care to keep his gaze on his client's lovely features to avoid direct eye contact. "So what exactly is the problem, Mrs. Hanson?"
"It's about my son," she said, lowering her voice as she glanced to her right. "He thinks he-- Oh! Luke, honey? Don't touch that, please. It isn't yours."
The six year old stopped in the act of reaching with small fingers for the yellowed, grinning human skull sitting on a bookshelf at eye level. With a slight frown, he turned to look a question at his mother.
"Remember what I said when we came in, sweetie," his mother gently admonished. Her own gaze took in the grim relic with obvious distaste. "We don't touch other peoples things without their permission."
Instead of walking away from the object as his mother intended, Luke promptly asked Harry, "Can I touch it, Mister?"
Harry glanced over Luke's head of sandy blonde hair to the pale, dour specter standing in silent observation of the proceedings.
"Far worse things have befallen it than the questing fingers of a child," said Bob in a voice that was modulated to a frequency that only Harry and an ectomancer could hear. "I doubt he can hurt it."
To Harry's surprise, Luke looked directly at the ghost standing before him and said earnestly, "I won't hurt it. Honest! I'll be careful."
Bob arched a pale eyebrow, the only visible sign of his surprise. "Will you so?"
"Cross my heart." Small fingers followed with solemn ritual. "And hope to-"
"No, that's quite alright," Bob quickly interrupted. "Crossing your heart is vow enough, young man."
Luke smiled. "I can touch it?"
Oblivious to the exchange, Mrs. Hanson began to rise from her chair. "Honey, what did I tell you--?"
"It's okay," said Harry, rising himself to reach out and place a gentle restraining hand on the lady's sleeve. "He won't hurt it."
"Well, if you're sure…"
"It's fine. Now, about your problem. I might have an answer for you."
"But I haven't even explained it to you yet."
"I think Luke just did." Harry pulled open a drawer in the battered old wooden desk and began to fish around among the flotsam and jetsam. "He talks to himself a lot, right? Has one-sided conversations when there's apparently no one there?'
"Yes! Yes, he does! But how did you--?"
"You started thinking he might have an imaginary friend or something. Nothing wrong with that. Any child psychologist will tell you that's not unheard of, especially for someone Luke's age who might be a little shy about making friends. It's just a phase. He'll grow out of it." He pulled out a pile of business cards rubber-banded together. "How am I doing so far?"
"You're frightening me, that's how well you're doing," she said with nervous honesty.
Luke, however, seemed not the least bit interested in the conversation between his mother and Harry. He was now running his hands over the swirls and marks etched in the skull.
"So your little boy has a healthy, if somewhat overactive imagination," continued Harry as he began to sort through the cards. "You're okay with that, until he starts telling you things that he couldn't possibly know. Like maybe your great-aunt Maud who died ten years ago says there's a shoebox full of valuable stocks in the attic she wants you to have. And surprise surprise, you find a box exactly where he said you would. Or maybe Luke told you that the next door neighbor the ambulance took away a few days ago left the bathwater running, could you please shut it off and, oh by the way, the neighbor's doing just fine now and could you tell his family not to worry."
Harry found the card he was looking for and looked up into his client's astonished expression. Literally speechless, she could only open her mouth and close it again. He didn't need the confirmation but it helped.
"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought." Now how to explain the truth without the lady thinking he was just as delusional? "You mentioned taking Luke to see all sorts of specialists. Doctors, priests, counselors. What did they tell you?"
"That … that he has an over-active imagination. That it will go away, eventually."
"Uh-huh. Did any of them suggest telling Luke that he's imagining things or to punish him for making up stories?"
She mutely nodded.
"Okay, then my first advice to you is to ignore their advice, because they don't know what the hell they're talking about. Luke isn't making it up."
"He isn't?"
"Nope."
"He's not talking to imaginary friends?"
Harry shook his head, his expression sympathetic.
"But, that would mean he's…" Mrs. Hudson's hand flew up to cover her gasp of surprise as she came to the inevitable conclusion. "He's like that boy in that movie, isn't he?"
"Afraid so."
"He sees dead people?"
Bob uttered a dramatic sigh. "I really do wish people would stop saying that line as if it were clever."
"Think of it this way. Luke has a special kind of talent, just like drawing really well or playing piano. The only difference here is there aren't that many people who can speak with the dead." Non-magical types, at any rate, but Harry thought it best not to complicate the issue any more than it was.
"How can I believe what I can't see or hear?"
"You don't have to believe in ghosts. Just believe in your son," said Harry reasonably. "What you don't want to do is discourage him. Luke needs to learn how to control his gift and to shield himself so that he isn't bombarded by every spiritual Tom, Dick, or Harriet that realizes he can see them."
"Can you do that? Teach him?"
"I could, but I'm not the best person for the job."
"Harry! Did you just admit that there was something you're not especially good at?" asked Bob with mock surprise. With a shake of his head, he confided in Luke, "I will have to make a note of the date since it is unlikely to happen again."
Harry ignored Bob's comment and Luke's answering giggle. "Here," he said, extending the business card he'd selected across the desk to his client. "Mortimer Lindquest is the best ectomancer in the Chicago area." Maybe in the whole United States. Not that Harry would have told Mort that.
"Ectomancer?"
"A kind of ghost whisperer."
"Oh."
"If anyone can help your son understand his gifts, this guy can." Before she could protest, he added, "It can't hurt to talk to him, especially if he can help Luke."
Mrs. Hanson took a deep breath then nodded. "Alright. What's one more consultant?" She opened her purse and took out her wallet, slipping the card inside. "How much do I-"
"The advice is free," said Harry, nodding to indicate that she should put the wallet away. He was surprised when Bob didn't immediately respond with a terse reminder that the rent was two weeks late.
"Thank you, Mr. Dresden." She put the wallet away and slipped the purse strap over her shoulder. Standing, she extended a hand to him. "For the advice."
"I've probably given you more questions than answers," he replied with a boyish smile as he accepted her hand and briefly shook it. "Just try to keep an open mind, Mrs. Hanson. That's all I ask. The rest will come."
Reclaiming her hand, she turned to her son. "Luke? Put that … um, thing … down, please. It's time to go, honey."
"'Kay." The boy carefully set the skull back on its shelf before running across the room to his mother.
"Let me know how things work out," said Harry as she opened the shop door.
"I will," she promised. " Good bye, Mr. Dresden."
Luke waved to Harry then turned to the ghost in the corner as his mother took custody of his hand. "Bye, Bob!"
"Good bye, Luke. You are welcome to return any time."
The little bell over the door jingled as it closed behind mother and son.
As Bob fully manifested into visibility, Harry held up a hand and said, "Wait for it…"
Beyond the closed door, they could just hear Mrs. Hanson as she asked, "Who's Bob, honey?"
"I only hope the lady will take your advice to heart," said the ghost. "It would be a great shame to see that much natural talent closed off by fear and ignorance."
"That's why I sent her to Mort. He might not be the most personable guy in the books but he knows his stuff."
"Not to mention, he very probably endured similar issues with his own parents when he was a child."
"Exactly what I was thinking."
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 26. Psychosis
Word Count: 1,601
Rating: G
Summary: Harry tries to help a frustrated mother.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
"I'm at my wit's end, Mr. Dresden." Underscoring her words, the tall, shapely blond wrung the slender hands held primly in her lap. "We've been to medical doctors, school counselors, child psychologists, and even our parish priest."
"So I'm your last resort."
"Yes. I mean - no!" She sighed her frustration. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds terrible. I didn't mean it in that way--"
"No, of course not."
"--but I don't know who else I can turn to."
"When conventional avenues fail, look for the unconventional, is that it?"
"Something like that," she admitted. Her expression might have been charmingly sheepish if not for the fact that she was so clearly upset. "Can you help me?"
"I don't know," said Harry honestly, "but I can promise that I'll try." He leaned forward in his chair, taking care to keep his gaze on his client's lovely features to avoid direct eye contact. "So what exactly is the problem, Mrs. Hanson?"
"It's about my son," she said, lowering her voice as she glanced to her right. "He thinks he-- Oh! Luke, honey? Don't touch that, please. It isn't yours."
The six year old stopped in the act of reaching with small fingers for the yellowed, grinning human skull sitting on a bookshelf at eye level. With a slight frown, he turned to look a question at his mother.
"Remember what I said when we came in, sweetie," his mother gently admonished. Her own gaze took in the grim relic with obvious distaste. "We don't touch other peoples things without their permission."
Instead of walking away from the object as his mother intended, Luke promptly asked Harry, "Can I touch it, Mister?"
Harry glanced over Luke's head of sandy blonde hair to the pale, dour specter standing in silent observation of the proceedings.
"Far worse things have befallen it than the questing fingers of a child," said Bob in a voice that was modulated to a frequency that only Harry and an ectomancer could hear. "I doubt he can hurt it."
To Harry's surprise, Luke looked directly at the ghost standing before him and said earnestly, "I won't hurt it. Honest! I'll be careful."
Bob arched a pale eyebrow, the only visible sign of his surprise. "Will you so?"
"Cross my heart." Small fingers followed with solemn ritual. "And hope to-"
"No, that's quite alright," Bob quickly interrupted. "Crossing your heart is vow enough, young man."
Luke smiled. "I can touch it?"
Oblivious to the exchange, Mrs. Hanson began to rise from her chair. "Honey, what did I tell you--?"
"It's okay," said Harry, rising himself to reach out and place a gentle restraining hand on the lady's sleeve. "He won't hurt it."
"Well, if you're sure…"
"It's fine. Now, about your problem. I might have an answer for you."
"But I haven't even explained it to you yet."
"I think Luke just did." Harry pulled open a drawer in the battered old wooden desk and began to fish around among the flotsam and jetsam. "He talks to himself a lot, right? Has one-sided conversations when there's apparently no one there?'
"Yes! Yes, he does! But how did you--?"
"You started thinking he might have an imaginary friend or something. Nothing wrong with that. Any child psychologist will tell you that's not unheard of, especially for someone Luke's age who might be a little shy about making friends. It's just a phase. He'll grow out of it." He pulled out a pile of business cards rubber-banded together. "How am I doing so far?"
"You're frightening me, that's how well you're doing," she said with nervous honesty.
Luke, however, seemed not the least bit interested in the conversation between his mother and Harry. He was now running his hands over the swirls and marks etched in the skull.
"So your little boy has a healthy, if somewhat overactive imagination," continued Harry as he began to sort through the cards. "You're okay with that, until he starts telling you things that he couldn't possibly know. Like maybe your great-aunt Maud who died ten years ago says there's a shoebox full of valuable stocks in the attic she wants you to have. And surprise surprise, you find a box exactly where he said you would. Or maybe Luke told you that the next door neighbor the ambulance took away a few days ago left the bathwater running, could you please shut it off and, oh by the way, the neighbor's doing just fine now and could you tell his family not to worry."
Harry found the card he was looking for and looked up into his client's astonished expression. Literally speechless, she could only open her mouth and close it again. He didn't need the confirmation but it helped.
"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought." Now how to explain the truth without the lady thinking he was just as delusional? "You mentioned taking Luke to see all sorts of specialists. Doctors, priests, counselors. What did they tell you?"
"That … that he has an over-active imagination. That it will go away, eventually."
"Uh-huh. Did any of them suggest telling Luke that he's imagining things or to punish him for making up stories?"
She mutely nodded.
"Okay, then my first advice to you is to ignore their advice, because they don't know what the hell they're talking about. Luke isn't making it up."
"He isn't?"
"Nope."
"He's not talking to imaginary friends?"
Harry shook his head, his expression sympathetic.
"But, that would mean he's…" Mrs. Hudson's hand flew up to cover her gasp of surprise as she came to the inevitable conclusion. "He's like that boy in that movie, isn't he?"
"Afraid so."
"He sees dead people?"
Bob uttered a dramatic sigh. "I really do wish people would stop saying that line as if it were clever."
"Think of it this way. Luke has a special kind of talent, just like drawing really well or playing piano. The only difference here is there aren't that many people who can speak with the dead." Non-magical types, at any rate, but Harry thought it best not to complicate the issue any more than it was.
"How can I believe what I can't see or hear?"
"You don't have to believe in ghosts. Just believe in your son," said Harry reasonably. "What you don't want to do is discourage him. Luke needs to learn how to control his gift and to shield himself so that he isn't bombarded by every spiritual Tom, Dick, or Harriet that realizes he can see them."
"Can you do that? Teach him?"
"I could, but I'm not the best person for the job."
"Harry! Did you just admit that there was something you're not especially good at?" asked Bob with mock surprise. With a shake of his head, he confided in Luke, "I will have to make a note of the date since it is unlikely to happen again."
Harry ignored Bob's comment and Luke's answering giggle. "Here," he said, extending the business card he'd selected across the desk to his client. "Mortimer Lindquest is the best ectomancer in the Chicago area." Maybe in the whole United States. Not that Harry would have told Mort that.
"Ectomancer?"
"A kind of ghost whisperer."
"Oh."
"If anyone can help your son understand his gifts, this guy can." Before she could protest, he added, "It can't hurt to talk to him, especially if he can help Luke."
Mrs. Hanson took a deep breath then nodded. "Alright. What's one more consultant?" She opened her purse and took out her wallet, slipping the card inside. "How much do I-"
"The advice is free," said Harry, nodding to indicate that she should put the wallet away. He was surprised when Bob didn't immediately respond with a terse reminder that the rent was two weeks late.
"Thank you, Mr. Dresden." She put the wallet away and slipped the purse strap over her shoulder. Standing, she extended a hand to him. "For the advice."
"I've probably given you more questions than answers," he replied with a boyish smile as he accepted her hand and briefly shook it. "Just try to keep an open mind, Mrs. Hanson. That's all I ask. The rest will come."
Reclaiming her hand, she turned to her son. "Luke? Put that … um, thing … down, please. It's time to go, honey."
"'Kay." The boy carefully set the skull back on its shelf before running across the room to his mother.
"Let me know how things work out," said Harry as she opened the shop door.
"I will," she promised. " Good bye, Mr. Dresden."
Luke waved to Harry then turned to the ghost in the corner as his mother took custody of his hand. "Bye, Bob!"
"Good bye, Luke. You are welcome to return any time."
The little bell over the door jingled as it closed behind mother and son.
As Bob fully manifested into visibility, Harry held up a hand and said, "Wait for it…"
Beyond the closed door, they could just hear Mrs. Hanson as she asked, "Who's Bob, honey?"
"I only hope the lady will take your advice to heart," said the ghost. "It would be a great shame to see that much natural talent closed off by fear and ignorance."
"That's why I sent her to Mort. He might not be the most personable guy in the books but he knows his stuff."
"Not to mention, he very probably endured similar issues with his own parents when he was a child."
"Exactly what I was thinking."