The Dresden Files / Bob / #34. Unnatural
Title: Tell Me Why
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Bob, Harry's daughter
Prompt: 34. Unnatural
Word Count: 950
Rating: G
Summary: Young Susan tries to find the answer to a very important question.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
It was something that had bothered her for a very very long time; probably since she was about three years old. Maybe even as young as two, which was, oh, years and year ago. Not that she'd ever asked. Everyone knew that grown ups had weird reasons for doing things one way instead of another way. (Not that any of them made the slightest bit of sense to an extraordinarily bright little girl of five.)
She decided it was time to find the answer for herself. Wasn't her Mommy always telling her how smart she was? And Daddy always did say that she was really good at puzzles.
"Susan? You're not paying attention, child," her teacher gently admonished. Looking over her shoulder, he perused the characters she'd draw on the paper in green crayon. "The last needs to be a bit longer."
"Like this?" She carefully redrew the character, elongating the final element."
"You have the general idea. More like this." Lifting a finger, he drew the proper character in the air in shimmering golden light. "Think of it like adding a tail to a sleeping cat."
"Oh! Like this!" Susan drew the symbol a third time, this time adding a bit of a curl to the newly elongated element.
"Excellent! That's precisely right."
"I knew I could do it!" she said proudly. "See? It looks just like this one." She reached up to touch the glowing symbol - then suddenly moved her hand to the right and tried to grasp the sleeve of the man standing so close beside her.
Alarmed, Bob instantly stepped back and safely beyond questing fingers.
Susan stood up, the crayon and paper forgotten. Hand still extended, she stepped through the glowing rune, disbursing it as she pursued him.
"What are you about, young lady?" Bob demanded, remaining well out of reach.
"I want to touch you."
"Now, Susan. Your parents and I have explained that. You cannot touch me."
"But I want to touch you!"
"I know that you do, my dear, but it is better that you do not."
Realizing that she would never catch up with someone who could walk through table and chairs and walls to avoid her, Susan let her hand fall back to her side. She thought of all of the times that she'd raised her arms to him, wanting to be lifted and hugged, and of all of the times she'd run toward him, delighted, only to have him step aside or away. Just like now.
What if really he didn't want to touch her?
Fat tears welled in her dark brown eyes and spilled over onto rosy cheeks. "Don't you love me?" she asked in a small voice.
"What?" said Bob, horrified. "Oh, Susan! Of course I love you! I love you with all of my heart and soul."
"Really?" she asked uncertainly.
"Really and truly. Have I not always said so?"
"Yes, but… Why won't you hug me?" she asked in a tiny voice. "Daddy does. And Mommy does." But he never had.
"It is not from lack of wanting, sweetling. Only that I cannot." Bob slowly and carefully stooped down so that he was at an eye level with the child. "I do not wish to harm or discomfort you."
"Hugs don't hurt."
"No, but you would find mine to be most disagreeable," Bob sadly assured her. "My touch is not warm and comforting like your parents. It is frigid and bitter. I would spare you that, if I could."
Susan again raised her hand. "Show me?"
Bob regarded her with an expression of mournful resignation. Susan was a bright and inquisitive child. Like her father, she would not let a problem rest unless it was resolved to her satisfaction.
"Very well," he sighed. He had known that this moment would eventually come but he had secretly hoped to stave off the inevitable revulsion for some years longer. Reaching out, he hesitated only a moment before bringing his long pale fingers in touch with her small ones. He could not feel her warm flesh as his hand passed through hers but he could clearly see the effect it had on the child.
With a little gasp, Susan shivered, her dark eyes wide as they watched where his fingers ghosted through hers.
"I am sorry, little one." Bob quickly pulled his hand from hers and let it drop to his knee. "Now you know why I have avoided touching you for so very long." Even though it breaks my heart to do so.
Susan was staring at her still-outstretched hand. It had not changed. It was not blue or covered with ice or stiff with cold. She waggled her fingers just to be sure that all of her fingers were working which, of course, they were.
"You're cold."
"Yes."
"Really really cold."
Bob nodded. "Yes."
"Do all ghosts feel cold and tingly?"
"To those of living flesh we do."
"Could you feel me?"
"No," he said softly. "Not in the manner that you imply. I cannot feel your physical body but I can feel your aura and your essence." He offered her a smile. "I can feel the special, distinct magic and beauty that is you, Susan Margaret Winifred Dresden."
Susan nodded as if that made absolute perfect sense. "You feel like snow," she told him decisively. "Not the wet and sticky kind but cold and kind of soft."
Yes, that was exactly what her granddaddy felt like. Nodding happily at this discovery, Susan beamed and extended both of her arms to him.
Puzzled, Bob looked from one to the other than into her earnest young face. "What are you doing?"
"Can I have a hug now?"
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Character: Bob, Harry's daughter
Prompt: 34. Unnatural
Word Count: 950
Rating: G
Summary: Young Susan tries to find the answer to a very important question.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me; just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
It was something that had bothered her for a very very long time; probably since she was about three years old. Maybe even as young as two, which was, oh, years and year ago. Not that she'd ever asked. Everyone knew that grown ups had weird reasons for doing things one way instead of another way. (Not that any of them made the slightest bit of sense to an extraordinarily bright little girl of five.)
She decided it was time to find the answer for herself. Wasn't her Mommy always telling her how smart she was? And Daddy always did say that she was really good at puzzles.
"Susan? You're not paying attention, child," her teacher gently admonished. Looking over her shoulder, he perused the characters she'd draw on the paper in green crayon. "The last needs to be a bit longer."
"Like this?" She carefully redrew the character, elongating the final element."
"You have the general idea. More like this." Lifting a finger, he drew the proper character in the air in shimmering golden light. "Think of it like adding a tail to a sleeping cat."
"Oh! Like this!" Susan drew the symbol a third time, this time adding a bit of a curl to the newly elongated element.
"Excellent! That's precisely right."
"I knew I could do it!" she said proudly. "See? It looks just like this one." She reached up to touch the glowing symbol - then suddenly moved her hand to the right and tried to grasp the sleeve of the man standing so close beside her.
Alarmed, Bob instantly stepped back and safely beyond questing fingers.
Susan stood up, the crayon and paper forgotten. Hand still extended, she stepped through the glowing rune, disbursing it as she pursued him.
"What are you about, young lady?" Bob demanded, remaining well out of reach.
"I want to touch you."
"Now, Susan. Your parents and I have explained that. You cannot touch me."
"But I want to touch you!"
"I know that you do, my dear, but it is better that you do not."
Realizing that she would never catch up with someone who could walk through table and chairs and walls to avoid her, Susan let her hand fall back to her side. She thought of all of the times that she'd raised her arms to him, wanting to be lifted and hugged, and of all of the times she'd run toward him, delighted, only to have him step aside or away. Just like now.
What if really he didn't want to touch her?
Fat tears welled in her dark brown eyes and spilled over onto rosy cheeks. "Don't you love me?" she asked in a small voice.
"What?" said Bob, horrified. "Oh, Susan! Of course I love you! I love you with all of my heart and soul."
"Really?" she asked uncertainly.
"Really and truly. Have I not always said so?"
"Yes, but… Why won't you hug me?" she asked in a tiny voice. "Daddy does. And Mommy does." But he never had.
"It is not from lack of wanting, sweetling. Only that I cannot." Bob slowly and carefully stooped down so that he was at an eye level with the child. "I do not wish to harm or discomfort you."
"Hugs don't hurt."
"No, but you would find mine to be most disagreeable," Bob sadly assured her. "My touch is not warm and comforting like your parents. It is frigid and bitter. I would spare you that, if I could."
Susan again raised her hand. "Show me?"
Bob regarded her with an expression of mournful resignation. Susan was a bright and inquisitive child. Like her father, she would not let a problem rest unless it was resolved to her satisfaction.
"Very well," he sighed. He had known that this moment would eventually come but he had secretly hoped to stave off the inevitable revulsion for some years longer. Reaching out, he hesitated only a moment before bringing his long pale fingers in touch with her small ones. He could not feel her warm flesh as his hand passed through hers but he could clearly see the effect it had on the child.
With a little gasp, Susan shivered, her dark eyes wide as they watched where his fingers ghosted through hers.
"I am sorry, little one." Bob quickly pulled his hand from hers and let it drop to his knee. "Now you know why I have avoided touching you for so very long." Even though it breaks my heart to do so.
Susan was staring at her still-outstretched hand. It had not changed. It was not blue or covered with ice or stiff with cold. She waggled her fingers just to be sure that all of her fingers were working which, of course, they were.
"You're cold."
"Yes."
"Really really cold."
Bob nodded. "Yes."
"Do all ghosts feel cold and tingly?"
"To those of living flesh we do."
"Could you feel me?"
"No," he said softly. "Not in the manner that you imply. I cannot feel your physical body but I can feel your aura and your essence." He offered her a smile. "I can feel the special, distinct magic and beauty that is you, Susan Margaret Winifred Dresden."
Susan nodded as if that made absolute perfect sense. "You feel like snow," she told him decisively. "Not the wet and sticky kind but cold and kind of soft."
Yes, that was exactly what her granddaddy felt like. Nodding happily at this discovery, Susan beamed and extended both of her arms to him.
Puzzled, Bob looked from one to the other than into her earnest young face. "What are you doing?"
"Can I have a hug now?"