storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2010-03-29 02:06 am
storypaint) wrote2010-03-29 02:06 am
[Dresden Files] That Familiar Refrain (Harry/Lash)
Title: That Familiar Refrain
Fandom: Dresden Files (book)
Length: 972 words
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: Dresden Files, Harry/Lash, Five times he missed her and one time he forgot she was gone.
Pairing: slight Harry/Lash (in the vein of the books); mostly gen
Other: Really a four-and-one, because I didn't read the prompt closely. PG for violence as in the series. General spoiler warning.
Excerpt: He thought longingly of Hellfire, of what it would mean against a monster who didn't even like the sun, but Lash was long gone. Harry was alone. And it looked like he was going to be dying alone too, unless something changed in the next couple of minutes.
1.
He shouldn't be here, or rather, it was a bad idea. Then again, Harry couldn't think of any time it would be a good idea to be at the Raith mansion. But it was another case and another suspicious death and when it involved vampires, Lara always seemed to have her hand in, or at least an idea of what was going on.
In this case, she did, if Justine's whispers had been any indication. She'd managed to pull him aside for just a moment as he was striding up to the house, speaking fervently in his ear, and Harry was really missing Lash right now, because no one seemed to have told her the source of his skillful grasp of Etruscan, and he had utterly no idea what she had been warning him about.
Something important, he'd guess, but he hadn't quite figured out what it was when someone's arm slid around his throat and began to choke. Lara's eyes were slitted in pleasure as she watched him and as he began to slip into unconsciousness, Harry wondered how long it would take him to learn a centuries-dead language that only vampires spoke.
Given his rather constricted breathing, he supposed he didn't have any time, but if he got out of this? He was so making Thomas teach him. Tomorrow. And that was a promise.
2.
For a wizard, and even for a normal human, Harry wasn't that old. So there was really no excuse for losing his keys in his apartment, which he knew like the back of his hand anyway. He was cursing his ineptitude-- it figured, just when he had to be somewhere as quickly as the Beetle could shift into gear-- and picking up old laundry, pizza boxes, even leaning down to look under the refrigerator, in case Mister had gotten frisky and used them as a toy.
He missed Lash fiercely for a moment, the way she was always looking out of his eyes and memorizing. She'd know right where they were, even if they'd been dropped under old trash or the coffee table.
There! He scooped them up from underneath yesterday's jeans and burst out of the door, hardly even pausing to lock it and set the wards, all thoughts of Lash banished from his mind by the case ahead of him.
Murphy had said there had been three deaths already; why had she waited until now to call him? That was what he was on his way to find out.
3.
It was looking bad. Of course, most times when Harry was deep on a job, things looked bad, but he was really beginning to wonder if he'd finally gotten in too deeply. He squirmed in the creature's grasp, but it just breathed on him, barely even bothering to add the poison that was slowly melting his insides. At this point, Harry thought grimly, it was a toss-up whether the poison or bloodloss would get to him first.
His vision was blurry; he was out of ideas. He hadn't told anyone he was coming down here, moving on a whim and intuition, but apparently not with any luck. There wasn't anything to see, anyway. This monster liked the dark.
He thought longingly of Hellfire, of what it would mean against a monster who didn't even like the sun, but Lash was long gone. Harry was alone.
And it looked like he was going to be dying alone too, unless something changed in the next couple of minutes.
He sighed. He hadn't even asked for hazard pay on this one. What a loss.
4.
He saw a blonde on the street, pale hair flowing, and there was something about the way she moved that was incredibly familiar. She turned as if sensing his gaze, and smiled, a private smile.
Before he could breathe, "Lash!" she turned away again and disappeared into the crowd, so swiftly that Harry had no chance of following. The sight made him stop in his tracks, and people behind him passed, grumbling, but he paid them no attention.
Surely he was seeing things? But even seeing things was a bad sign. He sighed. If Lasciel ever emerged from her coin again, it wouldn't be as the shadow he had known and sometimes, even had been fond of.
Lash was gone, and Harry knew that. He walked on.
1.
The gift with guitar she had given him did have its limits, Harry discovered after a while. Learning a new piece, one he hadn't had in his mind when she'd been present, was nearly as difficult as it had been before, though he thought that the fingerings were perhaps a little easier; muscle memory, he supposed.
The first time he trucked all the way through a new piece by himself, with only a few mistakes, he looked up suddenly, proud of himself and almost expecting to see her there, smiling wryly and teasing about the source of his newfound skill. But Lash wasn't there, of course, and the way she had come to his mind so easily surprised Harry. He'd been thinking of her less and less over the past few months. There were new cases, and Molly's training, and a thousand other things to worry about. The incident at Raith mansion had been closed for now.
He ran his fingers over the strings and played something familiar, letting the music wash over him and batting the thoughts of the shadow away.
"Time marches on, time marches on," Harry sang under his breath, finding the chords for a moment before the phone rang, interrupting his reverie. And so time did.
Fandom: Dresden Files (book)
Length: 972 words
Prompt:
comment_fic: Dresden Files, Harry/Lash, Five times he missed her and one time he forgot she was gone. Pairing: slight Harry/Lash (in the vein of the books); mostly gen
Other: Really a four-and-one, because I didn't read the prompt closely. PG for violence as in the series. General spoiler warning.
Excerpt: He thought longingly of Hellfire, of what it would mean against a monster who didn't even like the sun, but Lash was long gone. Harry was alone. And it looked like he was going to be dying alone too, unless something changed in the next couple of minutes.
1.
He shouldn't be here, or rather, it was a bad idea. Then again, Harry couldn't think of any time it would be a good idea to be at the Raith mansion. But it was another case and another suspicious death and when it involved vampires, Lara always seemed to have her hand in, or at least an idea of what was going on.
In this case, she did, if Justine's whispers had been any indication. She'd managed to pull him aside for just a moment as he was striding up to the house, speaking fervently in his ear, and Harry was really missing Lash right now, because no one seemed to have told her the source of his skillful grasp of Etruscan, and he had utterly no idea what she had been warning him about.
Something important, he'd guess, but he hadn't quite figured out what it was when someone's arm slid around his throat and began to choke. Lara's eyes were slitted in pleasure as she watched him and as he began to slip into unconsciousness, Harry wondered how long it would take him to learn a centuries-dead language that only vampires spoke.
Given his rather constricted breathing, he supposed he didn't have any time, but if he got out of this? He was so making Thomas teach him. Tomorrow. And that was a promise.
2.
For a wizard, and even for a normal human, Harry wasn't that old. So there was really no excuse for losing his keys in his apartment, which he knew like the back of his hand anyway. He was cursing his ineptitude-- it figured, just when he had to be somewhere as quickly as the Beetle could shift into gear-- and picking up old laundry, pizza boxes, even leaning down to look under the refrigerator, in case Mister had gotten frisky and used them as a toy.
He missed Lash fiercely for a moment, the way she was always looking out of his eyes and memorizing. She'd know right where they were, even if they'd been dropped under old trash or the coffee table.
There! He scooped them up from underneath yesterday's jeans and burst out of the door, hardly even pausing to lock it and set the wards, all thoughts of Lash banished from his mind by the case ahead of him.
Murphy had said there had been three deaths already; why had she waited until now to call him? That was what he was on his way to find out.
3.
It was looking bad. Of course, most times when Harry was deep on a job, things looked bad, but he was really beginning to wonder if he'd finally gotten in too deeply. He squirmed in the creature's grasp, but it just breathed on him, barely even bothering to add the poison that was slowly melting his insides. At this point, Harry thought grimly, it was a toss-up whether the poison or bloodloss would get to him first.
His vision was blurry; he was out of ideas. He hadn't told anyone he was coming down here, moving on a whim and intuition, but apparently not with any luck. There wasn't anything to see, anyway. This monster liked the dark.
He thought longingly of Hellfire, of what it would mean against a monster who didn't even like the sun, but Lash was long gone. Harry was alone.
And it looked like he was going to be dying alone too, unless something changed in the next couple of minutes.
He sighed. He hadn't even asked for hazard pay on this one. What a loss.
4.
He saw a blonde on the street, pale hair flowing, and there was something about the way she moved that was incredibly familiar. She turned as if sensing his gaze, and smiled, a private smile.
Before he could breathe, "Lash!" she turned away again and disappeared into the crowd, so swiftly that Harry had no chance of following. The sight made him stop in his tracks, and people behind him passed, grumbling, but he paid them no attention.
Surely he was seeing things? But even seeing things was a bad sign. He sighed. If Lasciel ever emerged from her coin again, it wouldn't be as the shadow he had known and sometimes, even had been fond of.
Lash was gone, and Harry knew that. He walked on.
1.
The gift with guitar she had given him did have its limits, Harry discovered after a while. Learning a new piece, one he hadn't had in his mind when she'd been present, was nearly as difficult as it had been before, though he thought that the fingerings were perhaps a little easier; muscle memory, he supposed.
The first time he trucked all the way through a new piece by himself, with only a few mistakes, he looked up suddenly, proud of himself and almost expecting to see her there, smiling wryly and teasing about the source of his newfound skill. But Lash wasn't there, of course, and the way she had come to his mind so easily surprised Harry. He'd been thinking of her less and less over the past few months. There were new cases, and Molly's training, and a thousand other things to worry about. The incident at Raith mansion had been closed for now.
He ran his fingers over the strings and played something familiar, letting the music wash over him and batting the thoughts of the shadow away.
"Time marches on, time marches on," Harry sang under his breath, finding the chords for a moment before the phone rang, interrupting his reverie. And so time did.