TV
'verse
Warning: some bad words, Bob/Murphy, and attempts at
something like implied smut
Dresden Files belongs to Jim Butcher
and once did to SciFi Channel but they threw it away so :p
I keep thinking each Bob/Murphy story is my last, then another one comes on me.
This one is #4. For those who like to keep track of such things:
I Want the Truth
Harvey
I Want a Vacation
Bad Vacation
--
I wanted a vacation. I love working for the Chicago PD but everyone needs time off now and then. My daughter was with her father for two weeks in Disney World, and Harry Dresden called me to tell me he was going out of town as well.
"Murph, could you watch Bob for me, I don't know how long I'll be gone. If I leave him alone too long he'll sulk for a month when I get back."
A long weekend in the fall is the perfect time for a getaway in the woods of Wisconsin. I rented a rustic cabin with a fireplace. The days were crisp and cool, the autumn nights perfect for sitting in front of a fire. I brought the skull of my friend Harry Dresden. No, not the one in his head, the one belonging to the ghost of one Hrothbert of Baimbridge aka "Bob" I just call him Robert. I also had that and the wonderful little notebook I obtained from an ex-con. The notebook which had, among other things, the spell that (for up to three days) would make Robert a real live boy. Well, not boy. Definitely not boy.
Upon mature reflection, however, perhaps I shouldn't have chosen the weekend of a full moon.
The cabin was everything it was advertised to be: rustic, isolated, yet within easy walking distance of a small lake, a family style restaurant with (of all things) authentic southern cooking. There was plenty of hiking, horseback riding and other outdoor pursuits available. All that and a cozy isolated cabin surrounded by woods.
The horseback riding was great fun. Apparently it is like riding a bicycle. It has been centuries since Robert last rode a horse, but he seems to be an expert. Unlike riding an actual bicycle which oddly enough, he can't do to save his... well... life. But thats another story. One best told over beer.
It was so much fun watching Robert. Once I drew the patterns and read the spell in the notebook he was alive again and whether riding a horse, falling off a bicycle or sharing a table and a meal with a family that included three rowdy toddlers, he took such great enjoyment from every moment that he infected all those around him with the sheer joy of it. Including me.
Back at the cabin he got lost in washing his hands. He stood there in front of the kitchen sink, water pouring out over his hands. He stared in amazement. He looked at me, mouth working but saying nothing.
"Wa-ter." I said.
He splashed some of it in my face. He was giggling. My hand on a bible, he giggled and splashed more water in my direction. I responded the only way I could. I slapped him with a rolled up dish towel in the traditional manner. Which of course led to chasing and threats and giggling until we would up in a tangled heap in front of the fireplace.
His laughing stopped as he took my face in his hands. His smile died. The look of wonder and tenderness in his expression was quite flattering.
The howling more or less cooled the mood. It wasn't like a dog howling. It was much louder – and nastier. There were three of them. It made all the hairs on my body stand. I almost screamed.
Something crashed into the cabin loudly. A monster, looking halfway between a dog and a bear. It looked straight at us and roared so loudly I thought I would loose my hearing. And then there were three.
Robert moved like lightning. He was up and holding a ... fire poker? I think I might have whimpered a bit as I reached for my bag. It was too far away. Robert said something, pointing with his poker and it flew into my hand. I stared at him, he shrugged and turned to the closest monster. He said something strange and green fire flashed from the poker and hit the advancing monster. It let out a pitiful yelp. So that's why they call it a fire poker.
One of the other monsters was almost on me. A jet of fire hit it as I fired my pistol without bothering to remove it from my bag. I hit the third thing right between the eyes.
Not that it mattered that much. None of the monsters seemed more than pissed off about their injuries.
It seems, however, that monsters can be lazy too. Two of them simply turned and loped away looking for easier prey. I could have sworn I heard a low growl that sounded something like "fuck this shit" from the third... thing. It too took off.
"What the hell?" I asked, looking at Robert.
"Werewolves." He said, reaching for my damaged bag.
"Bullshit." I responded.
"Well, My Lady, they certainly weren't Chihuahuas."
I snorted.
He pulled the precious notebook from my bag. Before I could react he had thrown it in the fire.
"NO!" I shouted as I tried to go after it. He had me in a bear hug from behind, grasping my wrists and holding me back.
"It must be done, Connie." He whispered in my ear, trying to soothe me. "There is no other choice. It is too dangerous to use and I won't have you harmed."
"Let me go!" I tried to get loose but he was too strong. I watched the pages of the notebook darken and curl and burn.
"Why?" I asked him. I gave up struggling and just leaned back into him. He settled his chin on the top of my head.
"Did you think wizards have no rules?" he asked me gently. "Did you think there is no one to enforce these rules? Ignorance of the law is no defense either in your world or in mine." He was stroking my hair now. "They would have found us, Connie. The more we used it the more chance they could track it down. They would have hurt you, even killed you. I won't stand for that."
"But..." I protested weakly.
"Shhh. Please, My Lady. Do you wish to waste what time we have left?"
I shuddered as I felt him move the shirt off my shoulder and plant soft kisses up along it to my neck and throat.
Oh hell no.
We wasted no time at all. I guess many things are like riding a bicycle.