The Cookie Fairy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alcesverdes) wrote2008-03-25 03:00 pm
alcesverdes) wrote2008-03-25 03:00 pm
Entry tags:
[The Dresden Files (TV)] Truth Be Told (4/8)
Title: Truth Be Told
Fandom: Dresden Files (TV)
Characters/Pairings: Bob, Harry, Justin
Rating: PG-13
Length: This chapter: ~2300 words
Summary: AU. Bob decided to protect young Harry from Justin as much as he could, Harry must figure some things out, and Justin finds a new angle for his plan.
Spoilers: For the episode 1x10 "What About Bob?"
Notes: Starting with chapter 2 I'm borrowing a couple of things from the books, but if you haven't read them, it doesn't matter. Well, it does (:P), but not for the fic.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
IV
"The lady's all right, but it looks like a hamster crawled up Donald's—"
"Harry..."
"—and died there about a year ago. Really, Bob."
Bob smiled. "You should give it some time. I'm sure it'll get better."
Harry sighed. "If you say so."
"I do say so. I also think you two boys should be friends."
Harry bit his lower lip and looked at the ghost just like when he thought he was getting too much homework to do. "Uncle Justin said exactly that before he left."
"Did he?" Bob asked, but he all that surprised; he knew Morningway well enough to have a fair idea of what the man was up to.
For all his power and elaborated schemes, Morningway's one-track mind was rather dull around the edges. He was so used to deceive people that he thought appearances were all. In top of that, he was too confident in his own skills; once he took something for granted, he neglected nurturing what he had sown because he couldn't comprehend why he should. Bob's loyalty and Harry's trust, for example, he thought he had because, to avoid trouble, both boy and ghost always acted as expected. But Bob had already decided to be truly loyal only to Harry and he was certain the later didn't trust his uncle as much as he trusted his mentor.
Bob was willing to take full advantage of Morningway's faults, the more it looked like he was doing nothing else but to follow his guardian's wishes, the better. Not only because then Morningway wouldn't know what hit him when the time came, but also because the mere idea made Bob feel rather good about himself.
Young Donald should've proven to be quite talented in some way or Morningway would've never wanted him as his nephew's friend —he wouldn't have even allowed both boys to meet, specially since the two of them were in the same situation.
Oh, yes, Bob knew about that as well. Morningway, as vain as he was, enjoyed being the center of attention. Yet, since it was too risky to share most of his stories even with the most sympathetic of his associates, he told them to Bob, who usually just couldn't care less but couldn't get away either; the only thing Bob could do to make those long sessions bearable was to take the opportunity to polish his sarcasm –though since Morningway always ignored everything around him when he was telling a story, Bob couldn't tell if he was getting better or worse at it.
The account of Donald Morgan Senior's murder had been memorable in more than one way. For Bob because he suddenly found himself summoned inside the greenhouse, one of the few truly beautiful places inside the state, though it was plagued with extremely dangerous specimens which weren't limited to plants, most of them illegal by their own nature or by the manner they were acquired. It was a fascinating spot in which Bob didn't want Harry to be. Ever.
As for Morningway, he made quite obvious how proud he felt about his feat, given that Morgan had been highly regarded within the Council, both as a responsible warden and as a powerful wizard, to the point, rumor had it, the current Merlin was interested in having him as his successor.
Therefore, Morningway had wanted him out of the way as soon as possible. The fact that the man was the husband of one of Morningway's oldest friends was irrelevant. Kinship had always been irrelevant, particularly if it got in his way; killing your own sister's widower would be impossible otherwise.
"You would've enjoyed the show," Morningway had told Bob from between a colorful flower and a huge, brown leaf. "He nearly got me, but I was more clever."
"Of course; you took three of your minions with you and he was alone," Bob said, upset because he wasn't in the liberty to fold his arms nor leaning on the table right behind him.
"They didn't meddle," Morningway said. "They only stood watch while Morgan and I fought one on one. That's right, my skeptic friend; we had a duel! And what a duel!" He laughed. "He tried to cut me in half with that sword of his, but it was only a Shadow. A great one! Not even my mother could've told us apart!"
Bob tried no to roll his eyes at the cliché. It was dreadful, and it probably was already considered as one back in the Middle Ages. Besides, that had been a duel? Morningway really needed to go back to the basics. Basic decency would be a good place to start.
"While he was still trying to figure out what had just happened, I killed him—"
"From behind?" Bob asked.
"From the side," Morningway corrected, a finger raised and, in his voice, a note of warning.
I'm willing to bet it was more of a coincidence than the fact that you're not that treacherous, Bob thought.
"Anyway, I won and now he's no more," Morningway said. "And," he added, walking towards a big, grey, metallic box that was on the table, next to Bob's skull, "I claimed this as my prize." He opened the box.
Morgan's sword was there, glistening, surrounded by red velvet. It was beautiful and powerful. And a family heirloom: Morningway would never be able to wield it as his own unless he wanted to suffer its curse.
"I know what you're thinking," Morningway said. "Don't worry, I won't even try."
"Who's worried?"
"It's enough for me to know this won't be used against me." Smiling almost sweetly, Morningway closed the box and then he locked it away in a trunk with several spells and a couple of jinxes Bob didn't bother to register.
He didn't know how much he would regret it weeks later.
Bob came back to the present angry at himself and loathing Morningway's cynicism; the ghost was certain his guardian was thinking to give young Donald his father's —the boy's, now— sword back in the future, once the kid had sworn loyalty to him.
"I'm sure your uncle has a good reason why he wants the two of you to be friends," Bob said to Harry, and he added to himself, But mine's better.
"D'you want us to be friends too, Bob?" Harry said, nearly whined.
"As a matter of fact, I do. It won't hurt if you have a friend your age. Or at least one who belongs to your species."
"Or one that's alive," Harry mumbled.
"Pardon?"
Harry inhaled deeply, raised his head and looked at Bob right in the eyes with such a determination the ghost would've gulped if he'd been able to.
He just knew what was coming.
"Why are you a ghost?" Harry asked, slowly, mercilessly, unlike the last time he'd asked (the night before, when he'd shown up in the studly so unexpectedly, breathless, carrying the cat in his arms, and against his uncle's orders of not being wandering around the house that night). "You don't want to tell me because all wizards remain trapped in their skulls after they die?"
"What?" Bob exclaimed in an undignified high-pitched voice. "That all wizards—? Oh, no, Harry, of course not, child! Don't be ridiculous!" He'd been caught off guard with that last question; it had hit a very sore spot. Bob wouldn't wish this punishment to anyone else, and to think Harry believed it was a generalized fate —that the boy could conceive that he himself would be forced to be trapped like that... it was too much for Bob.
"Then why—"
"I want you forget all about that idea, because it's all that it is! Do you understand me?" Bob shouted. Maybe far too harshly. "Just a stupid idea!"
"E-easy, Bob," Harry said. He'd backed up a little in his chair and looked like a lost puppy. "I—I never really believed it; I just wanted you to confess you were a special case." He forced a little smile that vanished soon. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it'd make you that angry."
"Harry..." Bob whispered.
Harry moved around the books on the desk, picked up his notebook and stood up. "Listen, I—I'll go and try to bond with Donald again; he should be with his mom sewing socks or something." Another smile that went away in an instant. He walked towards the door, from where he turned to look at Bob again. "I'm really sorry, Bob. Honest."
Then he left.
And Bob was left alone.
The ghost rubbed his face a couple of times; he was feeling miserable. Really miserable. He had yelled at Harry. He had made the boy cower away from him. And Harry didn't even know the answer to his question.
No, he didn't, but he surely suspected something now. Whatever Harry might think Bob had done couldn't be close to the horrors of the truth.
Perhaps you should tell him, a tiny voice inside his mind said.
"What? Why? I couldn't possibly—"
Yes. Yes you can. And you should. Before someone else does it. Harry would appreciate the honesty.
"Maybe he would, but then what? He'd despise me and reject me for the rest, just like everyone else."
Do you really want Morningway telling him? There's enough poison coming from him as it is.
Bob closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose. "Poison. That man is poison," he said. If Morningway took that matter in his hands, he'd make Harry hate him, to stop seeing him as a figure he could rely on and then the boy would be left completely alone and isolated. "Fine, I'll tell him." But, first, he had to think how he was going to do it.
He went back to his skull. He needed to meditate.
Several hours later, Bob heard a noise in the study, footsteps that didn't belong to those authorized to be there. Thus, he materialized.
The cause of the commotion was Morgan's widow, who was going through some drawers near the door; she looked too focused on her task.
The ghost had never seen her before, but he was aware that she and Morningway had known each other for many years, enough for Morningway to keep calling her by her maiden name. Bob had also heard she'd been a fine warden and that some sectors criticized her for her decision to retire to raise her son when she could've hired a nanny and keep doing her job. Bob's opinion on the matter was, "Why should I care?" but Morningway hadn't asked.
Bob cleared his throat. "May I help you?"
She gave the smallest of the jumps and closed the drawer before turning around. When she did so, her face was composed and she was wearing an apologetic smile. She held a charm in her hand that she quickly hid from view. A fine warden indeed; eyes not as trained as Bob's —who had spent centuries unable to do much besides watching— wouldn't have noticed it. "I got lost," she said.
Bob raised his eyebrows slightly. "You did." It wasn't a question.
The woman's eyes remained fixed at the middle of the ghost's forehead. "Justin told me I could a get a book or two to read as he was away."
She was a good liar, Bob had to concede that; she could've got away with it if only he hadn't known Morningway as well as he did. If that hadn't been enough, there was the fact that she was looking in the drawers of a small writing desk when all the books were in plain view, on the bookshelves all around the room.
It all led only to one question: how much did she know?
Bob smiled politely. "I'm afraid all the books inside this room have didactic purposes. But if you're interested in one in particular, I know the exact location of each one of them."
"You're very kind, but I think I'll— Um, do you have Nordensternau's Treaty on Elixirs?"
"Excellent choice. Go to your right, third shelf from the top, fourth volume left to right." It was a basic treaty, useful, with a florid prose and maybe not as boring as others; Bob expected to start studying it with Harry the next year.
As he follow the woman's movements around the room, Bob realized why, with all her expertise, she'd walked so careless into the study; earlier that day, when Harry had left in a hurry, he'd left a pile of books on the desk right in front of the skull. She probably had looked before getting in, but she hadn't seen it.
"You have a great selection here," she said after she'd picked up the book and read the titles of those that surrounded it.
"Mr. Morningway is very interested in giving young Harry the best education possible." That was true, luckily.
"But Justin doesn't teach him himself, does he? You do. I've talked to Harry; he has a very adequate level for someone who wasn't raised among us."
In spite of himself, the compliment hit Bob's core. "Thank you," he said. "But Harry's a very good student; little can be achieve if that condition is not met."
"He's a good boy," she said.
Bob narrowed his eyes. It suddenly seemed like that woman making a threat against Harry in order to ensure Bob's silence about this meeting.
She continued. "He talks a lot about you; he really likes you. That too plays a part."
Bob gave a small nod but didn't reply.
"I must go now," the woman said. "I'll bring the book back tomorrow." She began to walk away, but when she reached the door, she turned around and said, avoiding to look at Bob's face altogether. "Listen, Mr. Bainbridge, I—I know what it is. I would've done the same... if I hadn't known..." A pause. "I'll go now," she added, hastily, as she went away.
Bob had never felt that confused, neither in his life nor in his no-life.
Chapter 5
Fandom: Dresden Files (TV)
Characters/Pairings: Bob, Harry, Justin
Rating: PG-13
Length: This chapter: ~2300 words
Summary: AU. Bob decided to protect young Harry from Justin as much as he could, Harry must figure some things out, and Justin finds a new angle for his plan.
Spoilers: For the episode 1x10 "What About Bob?"
Notes: Starting with chapter 2 I'm borrowing a couple of things from the books, but if you haven't read them, it doesn't matter. Well, it does (:P), but not for the fic.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
IV
"The lady's all right, but it looks like a hamster crawled up Donald's—"
"Harry..."
"—and died there about a year ago. Really, Bob."
Bob smiled. "You should give it some time. I'm sure it'll get better."
Harry sighed. "If you say so."
"I do say so. I also think you two boys should be friends."
Harry bit his lower lip and looked at the ghost just like when he thought he was getting too much homework to do. "Uncle Justin said exactly that before he left."
"Did he?" Bob asked, but he all that surprised; he knew Morningway well enough to have a fair idea of what the man was up to.
For all his power and elaborated schemes, Morningway's one-track mind was rather dull around the edges. He was so used to deceive people that he thought appearances were all. In top of that, he was too confident in his own skills; once he took something for granted, he neglected nurturing what he had sown because he couldn't comprehend why he should. Bob's loyalty and Harry's trust, for example, he thought he had because, to avoid trouble, both boy and ghost always acted as expected. But Bob had already decided to be truly loyal only to Harry and he was certain the later didn't trust his uncle as much as he trusted his mentor.
Bob was willing to take full advantage of Morningway's faults, the more it looked like he was doing nothing else but to follow his guardian's wishes, the better. Not only because then Morningway wouldn't know what hit him when the time came, but also because the mere idea made Bob feel rather good about himself.
Young Donald should've proven to be quite talented in some way or Morningway would've never wanted him as his nephew's friend —he wouldn't have even allowed both boys to meet, specially since the two of them were in the same situation.
Oh, yes, Bob knew about that as well. Morningway, as vain as he was, enjoyed being the center of attention. Yet, since it was too risky to share most of his stories even with the most sympathetic of his associates, he told them to Bob, who usually just couldn't care less but couldn't get away either; the only thing Bob could do to make those long sessions bearable was to take the opportunity to polish his sarcasm –though since Morningway always ignored everything around him when he was telling a story, Bob couldn't tell if he was getting better or worse at it.
The account of Donald Morgan Senior's murder had been memorable in more than one way. For Bob because he suddenly found himself summoned inside the greenhouse, one of the few truly beautiful places inside the state, though it was plagued with extremely dangerous specimens which weren't limited to plants, most of them illegal by their own nature or by the manner they were acquired. It was a fascinating spot in which Bob didn't want Harry to be. Ever.
As for Morningway, he made quite obvious how proud he felt about his feat, given that Morgan had been highly regarded within the Council, both as a responsible warden and as a powerful wizard, to the point, rumor had it, the current Merlin was interested in having him as his successor.
Therefore, Morningway had wanted him out of the way as soon as possible. The fact that the man was the husband of one of Morningway's oldest friends was irrelevant. Kinship had always been irrelevant, particularly if it got in his way; killing your own sister's widower would be impossible otherwise.
"You would've enjoyed the show," Morningway had told Bob from between a colorful flower and a huge, brown leaf. "He nearly got me, but I was more clever."
"Of course; you took three of your minions with you and he was alone," Bob said, upset because he wasn't in the liberty to fold his arms nor leaning on the table right behind him.
"They didn't meddle," Morningway said. "They only stood watch while Morgan and I fought one on one. That's right, my skeptic friend; we had a duel! And what a duel!" He laughed. "He tried to cut me in half with that sword of his, but it was only a Shadow. A great one! Not even my mother could've told us apart!"
Bob tried no to roll his eyes at the cliché. It was dreadful, and it probably was already considered as one back in the Middle Ages. Besides, that had been a duel? Morningway really needed to go back to the basics. Basic decency would be a good place to start.
"While he was still trying to figure out what had just happened, I killed him—"
"From behind?" Bob asked.
"From the side," Morningway corrected, a finger raised and, in his voice, a note of warning.
I'm willing to bet it was more of a coincidence than the fact that you're not that treacherous, Bob thought.
"Anyway, I won and now he's no more," Morningway said. "And," he added, walking towards a big, grey, metallic box that was on the table, next to Bob's skull, "I claimed this as my prize." He opened the box.
Morgan's sword was there, glistening, surrounded by red velvet. It was beautiful and powerful. And a family heirloom: Morningway would never be able to wield it as his own unless he wanted to suffer its curse.
"I know what you're thinking," Morningway said. "Don't worry, I won't even try."
"Who's worried?"
"It's enough for me to know this won't be used against me." Smiling almost sweetly, Morningway closed the box and then he locked it away in a trunk with several spells and a couple of jinxes Bob didn't bother to register.
He didn't know how much he would regret it weeks later.
Bob came back to the present angry at himself and loathing Morningway's cynicism; the ghost was certain his guardian was thinking to give young Donald his father's —the boy's, now— sword back in the future, once the kid had sworn loyalty to him.
"I'm sure your uncle has a good reason why he wants the two of you to be friends," Bob said to Harry, and he added to himself, But mine's better.
"D'you want us to be friends too, Bob?" Harry said, nearly whined.
"As a matter of fact, I do. It won't hurt if you have a friend your age. Or at least one who belongs to your species."
"Or one that's alive," Harry mumbled.
"Pardon?"
Harry inhaled deeply, raised his head and looked at Bob right in the eyes with such a determination the ghost would've gulped if he'd been able to.
He just knew what was coming.
"Why are you a ghost?" Harry asked, slowly, mercilessly, unlike the last time he'd asked (the night before, when he'd shown up in the studly so unexpectedly, breathless, carrying the cat in his arms, and against his uncle's orders of not being wandering around the house that night). "You don't want to tell me because all wizards remain trapped in their skulls after they die?"
"What?" Bob exclaimed in an undignified high-pitched voice. "That all wizards—? Oh, no, Harry, of course not, child! Don't be ridiculous!" He'd been caught off guard with that last question; it had hit a very sore spot. Bob wouldn't wish this punishment to anyone else, and to think Harry believed it was a generalized fate —that the boy could conceive that he himself would be forced to be trapped like that... it was too much for Bob.
"Then why—"
"I want you forget all about that idea, because it's all that it is! Do you understand me?" Bob shouted. Maybe far too harshly. "Just a stupid idea!"
"E-easy, Bob," Harry said. He'd backed up a little in his chair and looked like a lost puppy. "I—I never really believed it; I just wanted you to confess you were a special case." He forced a little smile that vanished soon. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it'd make you that angry."
"Harry..." Bob whispered.
Harry moved around the books on the desk, picked up his notebook and stood up. "Listen, I—I'll go and try to bond with Donald again; he should be with his mom sewing socks or something." Another smile that went away in an instant. He walked towards the door, from where he turned to look at Bob again. "I'm really sorry, Bob. Honest."
Then he left.
And Bob was left alone.
The ghost rubbed his face a couple of times; he was feeling miserable. Really miserable. He had yelled at Harry. He had made the boy cower away from him. And Harry didn't even know the answer to his question.
No, he didn't, but he surely suspected something now. Whatever Harry might think Bob had done couldn't be close to the horrors of the truth.
Perhaps you should tell him, a tiny voice inside his mind said.
"What? Why? I couldn't possibly—"
Yes. Yes you can. And you should. Before someone else does it. Harry would appreciate the honesty.
"Maybe he would, but then what? He'd despise me and reject me for the rest, just like everyone else."
Do you really want Morningway telling him? There's enough poison coming from him as it is.
Bob closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose. "Poison. That man is poison," he said. If Morningway took that matter in his hands, he'd make Harry hate him, to stop seeing him as a figure he could rely on and then the boy would be left completely alone and isolated. "Fine, I'll tell him." But, first, he had to think how he was going to do it.
He went back to his skull. He needed to meditate.
Several hours later, Bob heard a noise in the study, footsteps that didn't belong to those authorized to be there. Thus, he materialized.
The cause of the commotion was Morgan's widow, who was going through some drawers near the door; she looked too focused on her task.
The ghost had never seen her before, but he was aware that she and Morningway had known each other for many years, enough for Morningway to keep calling her by her maiden name. Bob had also heard she'd been a fine warden and that some sectors criticized her for her decision to retire to raise her son when she could've hired a nanny and keep doing her job. Bob's opinion on the matter was, "Why should I care?" but Morningway hadn't asked.
Bob cleared his throat. "May I help you?"
She gave the smallest of the jumps and closed the drawer before turning around. When she did so, her face was composed and she was wearing an apologetic smile. She held a charm in her hand that she quickly hid from view. A fine warden indeed; eyes not as trained as Bob's —who had spent centuries unable to do much besides watching— wouldn't have noticed it. "I got lost," she said.
Bob raised his eyebrows slightly. "You did." It wasn't a question.
The woman's eyes remained fixed at the middle of the ghost's forehead. "Justin told me I could a get a book or two to read as he was away."
She was a good liar, Bob had to concede that; she could've got away with it if only he hadn't known Morningway as well as he did. If that hadn't been enough, there was the fact that she was looking in the drawers of a small writing desk when all the books were in plain view, on the bookshelves all around the room.
It all led only to one question: how much did she know?
Bob smiled politely. "I'm afraid all the books inside this room have didactic purposes. But if you're interested in one in particular, I know the exact location of each one of them."
"You're very kind, but I think I'll— Um, do you have Nordensternau's Treaty on Elixirs?"
"Excellent choice. Go to your right, third shelf from the top, fourth volume left to right." It was a basic treaty, useful, with a florid prose and maybe not as boring as others; Bob expected to start studying it with Harry the next year.
As he follow the woman's movements around the room, Bob realized why, with all her expertise, she'd walked so careless into the study; earlier that day, when Harry had left in a hurry, he'd left a pile of books on the desk right in front of the skull. She probably had looked before getting in, but she hadn't seen it.
"You have a great selection here," she said after she'd picked up the book and read the titles of those that surrounded it.
"Mr. Morningway is very interested in giving young Harry the best education possible." That was true, luckily.
"But Justin doesn't teach him himself, does he? You do. I've talked to Harry; he has a very adequate level for someone who wasn't raised among us."
In spite of himself, the compliment hit Bob's core. "Thank you," he said. "But Harry's a very good student; little can be achieve if that condition is not met."
"He's a good boy," she said.
Bob narrowed his eyes. It suddenly seemed like that woman making a threat against Harry in order to ensure Bob's silence about this meeting.
She continued. "He talks a lot about you; he really likes you. That too plays a part."
Bob gave a small nod but didn't reply.
"I must go now," the woman said. "I'll bring the book back tomorrow." She began to walk away, but when she reached the door, she turned around and said, avoiding to look at Bob's face altogether. "Listen, Mr. Bainbridge, I—I know what it is. I would've done the same... if I hadn't known..." A pause. "I'll go now," she added, hastily, as she went away.
Bob had never felt that confused, neither in his life nor in his no-life.
Chapter 5
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(Anonymous) 2008-03-31 01:22 am (UTC)(link)no subject
Great Story!
no subject