Oh God…I did the unspeakable…I wrote a Philippa/Dybbuk thing…well, at least partially a Philippa/Dybbuk thing. This takes place within the Dybbuk-meets-the-Teers-AU. It is, of course, essentially Nimrod and Iblis pining after each other. Or: How Philippa happened upon the secret of Nimlis.
I'm sitting in the friggin library uploading this. Damn this internet-less place! Don't get me wrong, University is fun, but aargh! I want Internet!
The phrase "Butter my butt and call me a biscuit" really exists. It is pretty old British slang, so I figured Iblis could use it, him being pretty old and British. Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I love this language topieces.
To Guest53: Expect the fic around next week! On the topic of Rudyard…*shrugs* I guess that's how the author made him…but fear not, he will be in the new fic, going through lots and lots of character development! And he'll get the girl while Dybbuk gets nothing, as it ought to be! Well, I guess all that Bollywood stuff doesn't really happen in India… Oh ooooh you live in Pakistan, don't you? What's it really like there?
To Justreading: As I said, expect it next week.
To Anonymousyoyo: Woo! Anonymousyoyo is back with an awesome review! ;)
It was some time after Dybbuk had turned to evil that Uncle Nimrod gave Philippa a piece of advice. "Listen, Phil" he had said. "In the light of what happened to Dybbuk, and your…close friendship to him, I feel that it's necessary to tell you this: Don't dedicate your further life to heroically crusading out there in order to try and bring him back home. If you do that…you will be faced with nothing but disappointment. Sometimes, the people we like, or even love, just change for the worse, and there's not much we can do about that. Sometimes we just have to let people go."
Of course Philippa had been upset. "You mean I should forget Buck, just like that?!" She had almost felt insulted.
"Of course not" Uncle Nimrod had answered. "Nobody could ask that of you. Just…try to not dedicate your life to bringing back what's gone. Try to look forward to the future instead. Don't crusade. Or else you will end up like me."
"Like…you?"
"Like me" Nimrod had said with an uncharacteristic bitterness. "Alone, with nothing to your name but a failed marriage and a life of fight that amounted to nothing. Your only companion being a perennially grumpy butler and possibly twenty cats."
"So…who did you crusade after?"
"That's a long story" Nimrod had said. "And it was a long time ago. He was…"
"He?"
"Yes, he. Is that a problem to you?" Nimrod had drawn up his chin.
"No…" Philippa had smiled mischievously. "Actually, John and I, we…wondered."
"Well, here's an end to your wonderings. He – I won't name names – and I were…friends. It was really very long ago. I don't think I ever told him of my feelings, but I'm pretty sure he knew anyway. It was unrequited, I think, but…well. He was…beautiful. Normally, you wouldn't use that word for men, but in his case, it just fit. His eyes were…and his hair…and the color of his skin…the way he moved…the way he smiled…smirked, rather…even the way he expressed confusion was of utmost beauty. I remember a summer's day on the Thames, a long time ago. The sun shone bright, and it made his eyes look like liquid gold. Of course, he was also intelligent, charming, witty and…mysterious in some aspects. He was everything, Philippa, everything and more. And of course I loved him, and I remember him fondly to this present day. Alas it wasn't meant to be."
"What happened?"
"Well, one day, my friend, just like Dybbuk, made a decision. The decision to kill all goodness that was in him. He, just like Dybbuk, joined the Ifrit tribe. And as far as I know, he never looked back. I tried to make him stay, of course, but in the end there was nothing I could have done. He wouldn't even listen to me. He was always so stubborn…" Nimrod had sighed. "Of course, I didn't want to give up on him. I tried to bring him back. Oh how I tried. I didn't realize that the boy who had once been my friend was basically dead. In his place, there was a man now, a man who did some horrible things…and I couldn't let my friend hurt innocents, no matter how much I still loved him. Over the years, bringing him home turned into simply beating him. Obviously, I wasn't successful either way."
Nimrod had looked his niece in the eyes and said: "I don't want this to happen to you. Of course you must mourn your friend. But you must also know when to move on."
The story had impressed Philippa, but…still. She wasn't so sure about heeding her uncle's advice. It was…she had to at least talk to Dybbuk for one last time. She was still of the opinion that she could have somehow prevented all of this. She hoped that there was still some good left in Dybbuk, that the boy who had been with her and John in India and had kissed her on the cheek and blushed was still somewhere in there.
So when, some weeks later, a school friend of her announced that she had been given a weekend trip to Las Vegas for her birthday and she was going to invite all her friends along, Philippa seized the opportunity.
So she went to Las Vegas, and as the other girls wanted to hit the town on their first night, Philippa excused herself and faked a headache so that she could stay in her room. Once alone, she dug out the information she had copied from Uncle Nimrod's folders (he had a whole filing cabinet dedicated to Iblis and family), and, using a map, she located a far-off building that seemed to be called the "Secret Teer Mansion".
Fifteen minutes later she stood before it.
Alright, she thought, that was incredibly easy…now for the not-so-easy part…
Getting into the house didn't even take that long, as someone had forgotten to lock the back door. They must feel really safe here, Philippa thought. She once again recalled all the information that Uncle Nimrod had had on the house. Iblis isn't here all that often, she had found out. Apparently his younger sons live here pretty permanently, the older ones, who have started their own families, visiting from time to time. Uncle Nimrod wrote something about Iblis only coming to live with his family when it's safe. When is it safe? And what has to happen to make living at your own home unsafe? The files were a bit confusing here. Anyway, maybe I'm lucky. Maybe Iblis is somewhere else entirely. Maybe I find Dybbuk and get to talk to him and everything turns out fine. I don't even want to think about what happens if I'm not so lucky…
Unfortunately, Uncle Nimrod's information hadn't exactly included a room plan, so she had to find her way around all by herself. She snuck around a bit. On the ground floor she found a spacious dining room fit for a family of only-god-knows-how-many, some storage closets and a cozy little kitchen. The place looked like…well, like a place inhabited by a lot of boys. There was a remarkable lack of female hand. But nothing hinted at the fact that there were some of the most evil djinn on earth living here.
Philippa was still in the kitchen when suddenly the light went on in the hallway. Oh bugger all, she thought. So much for being lucky. There was a slim chance that whoever was coming there was Dybbuk, and that he would spare her. There was, however, a much greater chance for this to be someone who would not take well at all to her being here.
She stood there with nowhere to run or hide as someone – tall, male, half asleep and definitely not Dybbuk – came in and switched the light on. She looked on, transfixed like a deer in the headlights. She had come so far, she had broken into the super-secret Teer mansion, only to be stumbled upon by Iblis…who, as a part of her mind not rigid with fear noted, did not look very threatening in pajama bottoms and a pretty threadbare white print shirt ("Weapon of Mass Seduction"), his hair mussed up by sleep.
As he saw her, the Ifrit paused mid-yawn, took his hand from the light switch and rubbed his eyes, as if she was a mirage that would disappear when he looked properly. Unfortunately Philippa had nowhere to disappear.
"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit" he said. "Philippa Gaunt, as I live and breathe. What the heck are you doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night?"
"Uh-um…I…uuh…"
"Truth, please, I'm too tired for lies."
"I…I wanted to see Dybbuk" she admitted timidly, because you couldn't lie to these snake-like eyes.
"Oh God. This is just…Sit." He drew up a kitchen chair for her and she sat down. She watched in awe as he fished a bottle from a shelf and poured himself a drink before sitting opposite her.
"Can I offer you something?" he asked. "We do have non-alcoholics here."
"N-no, thanks" Philippa said, staring.
"Manners, see? I'm working on 'em. What are you looking at?"
"S-sir, it's…it's two a.m." she blurted out.
"So? I'm aware."
Philippa looked pointedly at his drink. Whatever the situation, her mother would go absolutely ballistic if she ever caught her father drinking at that time of night. Iblis caught her look and rolled his eyes in a fashion that reminded her eerily of Dybbuk.
"What? I don't magically stop being an alcoholic at two a.m. Um, don't tell your uncle I just said that. Apropos, does Nimrod know you're here?"
It would have been strategically good to lie now. Philippa noticed that too late and said: "Nobody knows, not even John."
"Oh, for…did Nimrod never tell you to not do things like this?"
"I…I…it was important."
"Important, huh? Pray tell, Philippa Gaunt…what's so important that you have to break into a mansion full of Ifrit in the middle of the night?"
"That's kind of private, sir, excuse me."
"I take it that Dybbuk was your friend…you know, before."
"Yes…"
"Oh dear. And now you decided to crusade heroically after him and set him straight. Is that not so?" It was strange how Iblis sometimes resembled Uncle Nimrod in speech. Well, they had been around each other for a long time, she supposed…
She didn't answer anything. This was all so surreal.
"Come on, Philippa, answer. I won't bite your head off. Nimrod would be livid if I so much as touched his niece…and I don't want that right now."
"Well, Buck…Dybbuk…means a lot to me" Philippa said nervously.
"In a more than friendly way?" Iblis asked in a low, soft voice. The look he gave her was almost fatherly. For a second, Philippa had to imagine Iblis sitting at this very table with his kids, helping them with their maths homework or whatever. She had no idea what he wanted to hear from her, so she opted for "Excuse me?"
"Would you say you loved him? If I may be so forward to ask?"
"I…I think I do" Philippa whispered.
Iblis sighed. "That's just great. Listen, child. I do not tell this to people, normally, but…I think you'd want to hear. There once was a person who loved me, too. One of your lot."
"A good djinn?"
"A Marid, yes, and a right good one at that."
"What happened to her?" Philippa asked, already guessing and dreading where this story was going.
Her guess turned out to be wrong.
"Not her. Him."
"A man?"
"Yes. Not very much of a looker, him, but the greatest…soul I have ever seen in anyone. Ever. And this one had, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, taken a fancy towards me." Iblis heaved another, deeply heartfelt sigh. "He wanted to do anything for me, that bloody Marid. Wanted to leave everything behind just to stay with me. He wanted to sleep with me and wake up in the morning next to me and always be there for me and eventually marry me in Westminster Abbey in London. And all that other fuzz, you know. I warned him. I screamed at him. I treated him like a dog. I begged him to leave me. All in vain. He stayed. And so I hurt him, declared a personal war on him and hurt him, for years and years and years. The dilemma could only be solved that way. There is nothing more nonsensical in the world than the way your lot keeps sacrificing themselves."
Philippa asked: "Dilemma?"
"His dilemma, not mine. It's quite obvious, if you think of it. I am evil. He was not. It wasn't meant to be. In the eyes of the world, he loved an evil mass-murderer. I don't even know what he saw in me. He would have lost everything, had he stayed."
"So you, in a way, did it for him…" Philippa whispered in disbelief.
"Don't tell anyone" Iblis said. "There's my bad reputation on the line. I don't do things for others."
"Who was he?"
"Huh?"
"Who was he? The Marid who loved you?"
"His name is of no importance. He probably wouldn't want me to tell you. Anyway. The morale of this story is…you're a smart girl. Maybe you'll be smarter than your…predecessor and back off. Dybbuk has obviously chosen. Holding on to him will cause you nothing but pain. There can be no love between the good and the evil." Iblis looked down into his glass and whispered: "No matter how much we may want to."
Philippa hung her head. "You know, it might surprise you, but Uncle Nimrod said a very similar thing to me."
Iblis raised an eyebrow. "Oh, it doesn't. Not one bit." Then he muttered: "Damn hero complex runs in the family, I guess."
"I'm sorry, what runs in my family?"
"Nothing. I suggest you leave now, Philippa."
"What? You're not going to…you know…lock me up and torture me for what I did way back when?"
"Naah. My therapist says to not let my life be poisoned by old hate. And I guess she's right. You just made me recall things that make me feel quite low, you see, and now I have to fight the impulse to take this here bottle of very alcoholic content and drink until I forget my own godforsaken name. So get out of here. Godspeed, Philippa."
Philippa got up. "One last question, please, sir."
"I am no sir" came the tired answer. "Your uncle is. Knighted and all that. But not me. Anyway, ask your question."
"Did you kill him?"
"Whom?"
"The Marid that you told me of."
"Oh. Him. No. That is one of the very few things I absolutely could not do. "
Philippa nodded and made for the door to freedom.
"Tell Nimrod to look out for himself" Iblis said, very quietly, in her back.
As she turned around one last time, the light from the kitchen lamp fell into Iblis's face and, for a moment, made his eyes look golden. She didn't know why she noticed, but she did.
Precisely one week after that, Philippa decided to confess to her uncle. "Um, Uncle Nimrod? Do you remember the talk we had about Dybbuk?"
"Yes, I remember it very well."
"And, do you also remember how I told you that I'm going to Vegas with my friend Stephanie?"
"Oh yes, you wrote me an E-mail about it."
"Well, I…I went to Vegas. And…um…"
"Did you meet Dybbuk there?"
"No, I didn't see him…I, um, ran into his father, though."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Iblis? No…he just told me to back off. Told me a rather sad story, too. And then he planned to get drunk, I think, so he just let me go."
Uncle Nimrod still looked worried. But what he said next surprised Philippa. "I wish he would stop doing that. I wish he would look out for himself more."
"You know, he said something very similar. Remember how poor Mr. Hussaout once said you two had such a lot in common? I think he was right. Even his story was oddly…similar…to yours…oh my God…oh. My. God…"
Philippa stopped talking as it all fell into place. She remembered how Iblis's light brown eyes had, for a very brief moment, looked like liquid gold…
He was everything, Philippa, everything and more…
…the greatest soul I've ever seen in anyone…
…I remember him fondly to this present day…
Damn hero complex runs in the family…
"You" she gasped. "You…and him!"
Her uncle looked terribly sad as he said: "Yes, Philippa. Now you know the shameful secret we have both been hiding. And I hope you won't judge me too hardly now that you know." He got up as if to leave. As if he couldn't look her in the face for fear of seeing disapproval, or even disgust there.
He would have lost everything, had he stayed…
"I don't judge you, uncle Nimrod" she said and smiled. "Oh, and also…I think that Iblis likes you a lot. He's just afraid."
"Afraid? Iblis? Of what?"
"Of the judgment you two'd be getting…of allowing himself to feel feelings…I don't know. But I think you urgently need to talk."
Uncle Nimrod just stared at her wide-eyed for a minute. Then he slowly nodded. "Maybe…maybe you're right. Maybe we have to."
