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20 June 2013 @ 01:41 am
FIC: Surface Tension  
Title: Surface Tension
Author: joonscribble
Fandom: The Dresden Files (TV Series) & Hannibal (TV Series)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: A little of Harry's back story.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Summary: A case from Morgan sends Harry undercover for a day.
Author's Note: This story came about thanks to a prompt left for me by quickyfant at this meme. The ficlet got too long to fit in the comments so I had to post it as an entry. In a way, this is barely a crossover and there maybe several more questions raised by it than answered. But I had to stop it before it grew beyond what I could write at this moment. My apologies for the lack of Will Graham! Hannibal Lecter was difficult enough.

“Mr. Dresden?”

Harry got to his feet, fighting off the feeling that he was being called into the principal’s office. “Hi, yeah, that’s me.” He told himself to loosen the white-knuckle grip he had on his knapsack.

“Please come in.”

The office was in the same style as the foyer and hallway Harry had gone through to reach the waiting room: ornate and extremely expensive. Everywhere Harry’s eyes fell on some object or furniture piece that Harry guessed probably cost more than…he couldn’t even come up with a suitable comparison from his own life. It reminded him, almost overwhelmingly so, of Uncle Justin’s house.

The therapist, Dr. Lecter, settled onto a chair that probably went for the same price as a small condo. Harry gave a momentary wary look at its duplicate placed exactly opposite it before sitting down. How the hell did anyone find this a comfortable place to share all their deepest darkest secrets?

“Uhm…” Harry cleared his throat, letting the knapsack on his shoulder hit the floor with a soft thud, giving Bob the signal to go on walkabout. “Thanks for penciling me in on such short notice.”

“Not at all.” Lecter smiled. It was politely friendly. Genial. Inviting. “Is there a particular reason why you decided see a psychiatrist now? You mentioned in your phone call you had never been to one before.”

Harry glanced down at his hands. The small pebble he had tucked there no longer glowed yellow as when he had walked in. Bob was out of his skull. He had to fill up at enough time to give the ghost a chance to explore as much as he could of the house. “Try to run as parallel to the truth as possible, Harry. You’re shockingly not as good a liar as your profession requires you to be,” Bob had advised him. Harry had a suspicion this was also Bob thinking it was maybe not the worst idea in the world for Harry to see someone.

Harry quickly flitted through his Mental Index Card Holder of Life Issues to see if he could find one safe enough to offer. Nothing seemed really workable. Dead Parents was too personal for right now. Killing Evil Uncle would probably get him either arrested or straitjacketed. And he really couldn’t think of a way to explain Magical Wardens Breathing Down My Neck Every Day.

“Well,” Harry began. “Lately, I’ve felt like I’ve been letting things sit for too long. I’m not a kid anymore and there are things that have just been piling up. So…you know, new year, new resolutions, try to make a new me…” He trailed off. That sounded garden-variety neurotic enough to his ears.

“Tell me what’s wrong with the current you.”

“Nothing wrong, exactly,” Harry answered, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I like my job. I like my friends. I like my life mostly but things feel…parts of it feel…unfulfilled.”

“The lament for many of us.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Right.”

Harry wondered if he could somehow look at his watch without looking rude. There didn’t seem to be any clocks in this office. The guy had statues and a freaking harpsichord in here but not a clock.

“I’m curious, Mr. Dresden, why you chose to come to me for services.” Lecter’s features were still settled into an expression of open curiosity. But his gaze had taken on look that made the hairs on the back of Harry’s head stand up.

“What do you mean?”

“You clearly are uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’ve never been to a shri-uh, therapist and-“

“Not just that. My office, my house, makes you uneasy. It reminds you of someplace or someone you find hateful.”

Okay. Okay, that was creepy. Harry looked at his hands again. Nope, pebble was still dull. Dammit, how much longer was this going to take?

“Parallel to the truth as possible, Harry…”

“My uncle had a place like this,” he admitted, gingerly. “He wasn’t a good guy.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to keep letting these things sit. I need to sweep out the crap he left behind and get on with my life.”

“Sweeping out garbage others have left for us is simple enough with time,” Lecter replied. “Sweeping out the garbage one has created is much more difficult.”

The image of Justin writhing as he choked and slowly died on the floor came to Harry’s mind.

“Yeah,” he answered and found that he believed it. The pebble in his hands remained dim.


“Please tell me I didn’t get my head shrunk for NOTHING.”

Bob glared at him in a way that somehow managed to be an eyeroll without his eyes ever leaving his face. “It would be a tragedy to reduce something so desperately minute to begin with.”

“Ha, ha. Yeah, that’s funny because you’re saying I have a small brain.”

The ghost sighed. “Morgan was only half correct. The spirit of Lydia Daniels is not still haunting that house. From my peering into the walls, it seems Dr. Lecter renovated the inside while keeping the exterior architecture. The changes indoors may have prompted her to move on.”

“Great. Morgan’s gonna be thrilled with that news,” Harry groaned. This would no doubt mean he’d have to move down the list and go to the next ghost. “Wait, half correct?”

Bob smirked. “It does me proud to know you are capable of retaining information. The house itself is being haunted. By a few ghosts, incidentally.”

“Really?” A haunted shrink’s office. There probably was a joke in there somewhere. “How many?”

“I could make out three perhaps? They were faint. Try as I might, I couldn’t tap into their wavelength to communicate.” A small frown formed on Bob’s pale face. “It was curious. They clearly had not died in the house itself but that was all I could tell. It wasn’t even clear to me how they had met their ends.”

“Did they look angry? Dangerous?”

Bob shook his head. “No. Rather inert, actually.”

Huh. Harry wondered if they were former patients of Dr. Lecter’s, still hanging around with some sort of unfinished business. If they had died violently or if Lecter was somehow involved in their deaths, he doubted they’d be so docile.

“I guess if that’s the case we’ll just leave them there,” Harry said.

“Not eager to return to the couch?” queried Bob.

It was a joke but Harry could see the more serious, unasked question in Bob’s eyes. “Therapy’s not going to help me, Bob,” answered Harry. “Besides, even if it did, I wouldn’t go back to him.”

“Didn’t gel with him?”

“First of all, never use the word ‘gel’ in that context again. It’s weird coming out of your mouth,” Harry advised. “And second of all, no. The guy’s doesn’t get me.”

That was a bit of a lie. A somewhat huge one. But seeing as Bob didn’t object, Harry mercifully took it as a sign that the ghost hadn’t listened in for the full hour he had sat in the office.


Dusty: ST-TOS. Kirk. Beauty of the Beholderdustlines on June 20th, 2013 02:14 pm (UTC)
Of course, if it's all mentions of Hannibal that you want to avoid, then by all means, disregard everything I've just said! I will not be offended in the slightest. :)
The Writer They Call Tay: CP: Brillant!awanderingbard on June 20th, 2013 02:28 pm (UTC)
Yeah, it's sort of that the moment until I separate a bit from it. That's weird, usually I have to explain that to people and you're one step ahead of me. *huggles*
Dusty: SPN. Cas hugs Deandustlines on June 20th, 2013 02:37 pm (UTC)
*huggles back* Hey, no worries, I've got your back, m'dear! ^_^