My first foray into The Dresden Files fanfic - probably the first of many, given that I have developed a sudden obsession with the show. This is a shortish fic, a whumpy tag (what else were you expecting?) to the first episode, Birds of a Feather. Second chapter to follow shortly. This fic is set in the TV-verse, obviously, but as we don't have a TDF section under TV shows just yet, I'm hoping it's okay to post it here. It shouldn't really contradict anything canon from the books anyhow.. Speech in italics is taken from the episode.
Reviews are love.. :)
"What happened to your face?"
The question caught Harry off-guard. He'd been so focused on finding Scott, on finding a way to defeat the skinwalker, that he'd pushed his aches and pains to one side, urgency trumping discomfort. He'd ignored the way his body ached when he moved, had forgotten all about the scabbed-over cuts on his face. Murphy's words were a sharp reminder that he actually felt quite crappy and he knew his sheepish smile was about as convincing as his hastily mumbled evasion about being clumsy. Murphy's lips thinned and her closed expression spoke volumes. Harry stifled a wince; he really was a terrible liar.
"Pretty convenient explosion. I'm not big on convenience."
He could tell she was pissed at him as he followed her out of the building and along the street. Murphy was a cop and cops hate loose ends. She had a job to do, just as he did, and that meant closing cases; closing them with sensible, credible explanations that wouldn't make her reports look like something out of the National Enquirer. He knew the gas explosion story was thin and that Murphy was justifiably suspicious but what could he do? Even if he wanted to tell her, even if she would even believe him that a supernatural creature that can walk around in someone else's skin had been targeting Scott because he had latent magical ability, he couldn't. The High Council forbade it. If you don't know that magic is real, then you don't get to know. Secrets and lies. His relationship with Murphy was built on them and he hated it.. and he knew she did too.
"Well, how about kids being returned safely to their family? Are you big on that?"
He hated having to sidestep what he knew was a question. A question he simply couldn't answer. He couldn't keep the frustration from his voice, his hand on Murphy's arm halting her stride, willing her to understand.
"Yeah. One problem though – the kid was adopted illegally."
She turned and kept walking, the same frustration tightening her voice. Murphy was a good cop – and a good person – and he knew she wanted to do right by the kid... but, like him, she had rules that she had to follow. In Harry's experience, however, rules could usually be bent a little.
"Okay well, you know, if you ever find the birth parents then yeah, that might be a problem but until then.. Sheryl Sharpe? She loves him.. and he loves her. Now isn't that enough?"
Murphy had a pretty good poker face when she wanted to and the look she gave him as he made his little speech was careful, non-committal. She let him talk and then she looked at him, just looked at him, and for a second he thought he saw something in her eyes; she still wasn't happy with him but there was maybe a grudging agreement there? Wasn't there? He hurried after her, beginning to doubt himself.
"Is that a yes?"
TBC...