Bob the Skull / #37. Hell
Title: Body of Evidence
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 37. Hell
Word Count: 839
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry turn his deductive reasoning to contemplation of Bob's skull.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry held the skull between his hands and frowned into the dark, fathomless eye sockets. The bone was cool and dry to the touch, its plains and contours marred by symbols engraved by ancient magic into the pitted surface. Several teeth were noticeably missing and there was a jagged, triangular hole in the back of its cranium. Surprising that it had not suffered more damage after so many centuries of handling, but perhaps that had something to do with magic as well.
"Please don't tell me you are planning to use it as another Halloween centerpiece," said a disdainful voice.
"Are you ever gonna stop bugging me about that?"
"Never."
"Come on, Bob! I was twelve. It seemed like a good idea at the time." Harry couldn't help a boyish grin. "And it was a big hit."
"Your uncle didn't think so. He grounded you for a week, as I recall."
"Two. But who's counting?" Harry looked at the skull once more, his finger tracing the runes on its brow. "You know, I've been thinking…"
"Hopefully about how to pay next month's rent."
"…about your skull."
Bob frowned. "What about it?"
"It just occurred to me. I must have looked at this thing every day for the past 25 years, but I don't think I've ever really looked at it."
"I assure you, it has not changed."
"That's not what I mean. Here, look at this. The cheek bones are kind of high and, I dunno…delicate. The whole face seems rounder and the teeth…well, they're all wrong."
"And that seems significant because…?"
"It's not you." Harry tapped the skull's cranium as he looked up at the ghost. "Not the Bob I'm used to seeing, anyway. The facial features are all wrong. They're different."
"Are they?" replied Bob, his voice carefully neutral.
"You know they are," said Harry with certainty. "So I can't help wondering what you're trying to hide. Why you're not showing me what you really look like."
"You believe that this is not my true appearance?"
"Based on the evidence? Yeah, I'm beginning to think so. You can change what you wear by rearranging your ectoplasm or whatever it is that you do, right? So why not how you look? Not that I'm blaming you or anything," Harry quickly added. "I mean, if you don't like the way you looked in life, why not take advantage of being able to change it when you're a ghost?"
"Why not indeed," Bob replied quietly.
"Sure. If it were me, I might get rid of a few scars. Make myself look thinner, taller. Maybe a little more handsome."
"Would you so?"
"No, I probably wouldn't. What would be the point?" Harry carefully set the skull on the desk. "You know, it doesn't really matter to me what you look like, Bob. I don't care if you're short or fat or have a huge wart on your nose."
"No?"
"Okay, maybe that's not quite true," Harry reluctantly confessed under his mentor's shrewd gaze. "I grew up with the way you look now so anything different at this point just wouldn't seem like 'you'." He held up his hands in a helpless shrug. "I guess what I'm trying to say-"
"Badly."
"-badly, is that you don't have to hide what you really look like from me. It's who you are, not you're appearance, that's Bob."
"That is a very touching sentiment," said the ghost, measuring his words. "Even if your deductive reasoning is amiss."
"What 'amiss'?" said Harry, defensively. "If you don't want to show me what you really look like, fine. That's your choice and I'll respect that. But don't stand there and deny the evidence."
"I do not deny it, Harry," said Bob, an edge of pain creeping into his tone. "I refute it. You are the first to have ever looked closely enough to notice the discrepancies. But your conclusions are flawed. The skull does not belong to me."
"What do you mean, 'it doesn't belong' to you? Of course it's yours! Why else would you be stuck to the damned thing for eternity? It doesn't make sense to stuff you into someone else's head!"
"Does it not?" Bob reached out an elegant, long-fingered hand and passed it through the relic as if he would caress it. "Can you not envision a damnation more horrifying than having your soul trapped for all time within your own desiccated skull? No, I thought not. But the High Council could; and did."
Confused, Harry once more noted the delicate, high cheek bones and the narrow curve of the eye sockets. Not Bob? But then who…?
A cold chill gripped Harry's heart and began to squeeze as the terrifying, unimaginable truth suddenly presented itself with crystal clarity. It was too horrible to contemplate, and yet how better to visit Hell on an eternally earth-bound spirit? On this particular spirit?
"Hell bells! Tell me this isn't-"
"Winifred?" Ghostly tears glistened in blue eyes filled with tortuous pain. "Yes," he whispered wretchedly.
Author: Cyloran
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob, Harry
Prompt: 37. Hell
Word Count: 839
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry turn his deductive reasoning to contemplation of Bob's skull.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
Harry held the skull between his hands and frowned into the dark, fathomless eye sockets. The bone was cool and dry to the touch, its plains and contours marred by symbols engraved by ancient magic into the pitted surface. Several teeth were noticeably missing and there was a jagged, triangular hole in the back of its cranium. Surprising that it had not suffered more damage after so many centuries of handling, but perhaps that had something to do with magic as well.
"Please don't tell me you are planning to use it as another Halloween centerpiece," said a disdainful voice.
"Are you ever gonna stop bugging me about that?"
"Never."
"Come on, Bob! I was twelve. It seemed like a good idea at the time." Harry couldn't help a boyish grin. "And it was a big hit."
"Your uncle didn't think so. He grounded you for a week, as I recall."
"Two. But who's counting?" Harry looked at the skull once more, his finger tracing the runes on its brow. "You know, I've been thinking…"
"Hopefully about how to pay next month's rent."
"…about your skull."
Bob frowned. "What about it?"
"It just occurred to me. I must have looked at this thing every day for the past 25 years, but I don't think I've ever really looked at it."
"I assure you, it has not changed."
"That's not what I mean. Here, look at this. The cheek bones are kind of high and, I dunno…delicate. The whole face seems rounder and the teeth…well, they're all wrong."
"And that seems significant because…?"
"It's not you." Harry tapped the skull's cranium as he looked up at the ghost. "Not the Bob I'm used to seeing, anyway. The facial features are all wrong. They're different."
"Are they?" replied Bob, his voice carefully neutral.
"You know they are," said Harry with certainty. "So I can't help wondering what you're trying to hide. Why you're not showing me what you really look like."
"You believe that this is not my true appearance?"
"Based on the evidence? Yeah, I'm beginning to think so. You can change what you wear by rearranging your ectoplasm or whatever it is that you do, right? So why not how you look? Not that I'm blaming you or anything," Harry quickly added. "I mean, if you don't like the way you looked in life, why not take advantage of being able to change it when you're a ghost?"
"Why not indeed," Bob replied quietly.
"Sure. If it were me, I might get rid of a few scars. Make myself look thinner, taller. Maybe a little more handsome."
"Would you so?"
"No, I probably wouldn't. What would be the point?" Harry carefully set the skull on the desk. "You know, it doesn't really matter to me what you look like, Bob. I don't care if you're short or fat or have a huge wart on your nose."
"No?"
"Okay, maybe that's not quite true," Harry reluctantly confessed under his mentor's shrewd gaze. "I grew up with the way you look now so anything different at this point just wouldn't seem like 'you'." He held up his hands in a helpless shrug. "I guess what I'm trying to say-"
"Badly."
"-badly, is that you don't have to hide what you really look like from me. It's who you are, not you're appearance, that's Bob."
"That is a very touching sentiment," said the ghost, measuring his words. "Even if your deductive reasoning is amiss."
"What 'amiss'?" said Harry, defensively. "If you don't want to show me what you really look like, fine. That's your choice and I'll respect that. But don't stand there and deny the evidence."
"I do not deny it, Harry," said Bob, an edge of pain creeping into his tone. "I refute it. You are the first to have ever looked closely enough to notice the discrepancies. But your conclusions are flawed. The skull does not belong to me."
"What do you mean, 'it doesn't belong' to you? Of course it's yours! Why else would you be stuck to the damned thing for eternity? It doesn't make sense to stuff you into someone else's head!"
"Does it not?" Bob reached out an elegant, long-fingered hand and passed it through the relic as if he would caress it. "Can you not envision a damnation more horrifying than having your soul trapped for all time within your own desiccated skull? No, I thought not. But the High Council could; and did."
Confused, Harry once more noted the delicate, high cheek bones and the narrow curve of the eye sockets. Not Bob? But then who…?
A cold chill gripped Harry's heart and began to squeeze as the terrifying, unimaginable truth suddenly presented itself with crystal clarity. It was too horrible to contemplate, and yet how better to visit Hell on an eternally earth-bound spirit? On this particular spirit?
"Hell bells! Tell me this isn't-"
"Winifred?" Ghostly tears glistened in blue eyes filled with tortuous pain. "Yes," he whispered wretchedly.