#03 Cursed / Bob the Skull
Title: Mark of Cain
Author: Cyloran
Characters: Bob, Harry
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Prompt: 03. Cursed
Word Count: 360
Rating: G
Summary: Harry learns something tragic about Bob
Disclaimer: Not mine but I can dream, can't I?
Author's Note: In memory of the 1,523 who were lost and the 705 who survived against all odds.
Table: Here There be Ghosts.
Padding on bare feet into the gloom of the locked storefront, Harry was surprised to see a familiar silhouette framed against the glass of the door. Bob gave no indication that he had noticed Harry's arrival. Instead, he stood eerily still and unusually quiet as he looked mournfully out at the early morning downpour. The spring rain had been falling nonstop for two full days, the flooding the streets keeping potential customers at bay.
"Still coming down pretty hard," said Harry conversationally.
"Yes." The response was distant.
"Bob?"
"Hmm?"
"You okay?"
The ghost glanced at him briefly and offered a none-to-convincing smile. "Fine."
"Not to call you a liar, Bob, but . . . you're lying," said Harry, not unkindly. Bob offered no response, instead turning back to contemplate the grey morning. Harry thought he understood. "This is kind of what England is like most of the time, isn't it? Cold and damp with lots of rain, right? You feeling home sick?"
"There's nothing left for me there," said Bob softly. "This is my home now."
"How long has it been? Since you came over, I mean?"
"Ninety five years." The melancholy in his voice shone in his eyes as anguish. "Ninety five years today."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"April 15th."
"Yes."
"Ninety-five years as in 1912?"
Bob turned to Harry and was gratified to see understanding.
"Oh, crap. Damn. I didn't realize--!"
"There was no reason for you to."
"I should have asked. It just never occurred to me to wonder when you got here. Maybe because I thought it was a lot earlier." Harry sat down heavily on the arm of a chair. "What were you doing there, Bob? Were you with someone? A wizard?"
Bob shook his head. "No. My skull was part of a museum exhibit of ancient artifacts being shipped from Southampton to New York."
"There, uh, didn't happen to be a mummy in that shipment with you, was there?" asked Harry.
"You mean the Egyptian Priestess of Amen-Ra? That's a myth. One of many about that tragic night."
"You sure about that?"
"A mummy's curse didn't sink the Titanic, Harry," said Bob mournfully. "Mine did."
Author: Cyloran
Characters: Bob, Harry
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Prompt: 03. Cursed
Word Count: 360
Rating: G
Summary: Harry learns something tragic about Bob
Disclaimer: Not mine but I can dream, can't I?
Author's Note: In memory of the 1,523 who were lost and the 705 who survived against all odds.
Table: Here There be Ghosts.
Padding on bare feet into the gloom of the locked storefront, Harry was surprised to see a familiar silhouette framed against the glass of the door. Bob gave no indication that he had noticed Harry's arrival. Instead, he stood eerily still and unusually quiet as he looked mournfully out at the early morning downpour. The spring rain had been falling nonstop for two full days, the flooding the streets keeping potential customers at bay.
"Still coming down pretty hard," said Harry conversationally.
"Yes." The response was distant.
"Bob?"
"Hmm?"
"You okay?"
The ghost glanced at him briefly and offered a none-to-convincing smile. "Fine."
"Not to call you a liar, Bob, but . . . you're lying," said Harry, not unkindly. Bob offered no response, instead turning back to contemplate the grey morning. Harry thought he understood. "This is kind of what England is like most of the time, isn't it? Cold and damp with lots of rain, right? You feeling home sick?"
"There's nothing left for me there," said Bob softly. "This is my home now."
"How long has it been? Since you came over, I mean?"
"Ninety five years." The melancholy in his voice shone in his eyes as anguish. "Ninety five years today."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"April 15th."
"Yes."
"Ninety-five years as in 1912?"
Bob turned to Harry and was gratified to see understanding.
"Oh, crap. Damn. I didn't realize--!"
"There was no reason for you to."
"I should have asked. It just never occurred to me to wonder when you got here. Maybe because I thought it was a lot earlier." Harry sat down heavily on the arm of a chair. "What were you doing there, Bob? Were you with someone? A wizard?"
Bob shook his head. "No. My skull was part of a museum exhibit of ancient artifacts being shipped from Southampton to New York."
"There, uh, didn't happen to be a mummy in that shipment with you, was there?" asked Harry.
"You mean the Egyptian Priestess of Amen-Ra? That's a myth. One of many about that tragic night."
"You sure about that?"
"A mummy's curse didn't sink the Titanic, Harry," said Bob mournfully. "Mine did."