raith_rogue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raith_rogue) wrote2011-09-06 10:23 pm
raith_rogue) wrote2011-09-06 10:23 pm
Entry tags:
To Kill a Puck--A Plea for Help
Thomas and Harry and done a pretty good job of avoiding each other for the most part, ever since the whole thing with Molly had happened. But Robin had been missing for four days now, with not a word, Thomas had broken into the Raith family home and ascertained for himself that the puck wasn’t anywhere on the premises, and he’d even broken down and tried a tracking spell that had either not worked, or...or other options that Thomas wasn’t thinking about. At any rate, it had picked up not even the slightest trace of the puck. Whether that meant he was dead or too far away for Thomas’ limited skills remained to be seen.
And that was why he found himself looking at the door to Harry’s apartment that evening, just standing there for a few nervous moments to try to compose himself. He was pretty sure he could count on Harry’s help, even for Robin. Especially since Robin was Harry’s client, and if he ended up dead, he would be very unlikely to settle the bill. Normally there would be no doubt at all in Thomas’ mind, of course Harry would help. But this week had been pretty much nothing but doubt, with his friends Worry and Fear singing backup. Thomas ran his fingers through hair that hadn’t seen a single product in a few days. At least it matched the faint dark circles under his eyes. Sleep had not come easily, and had not stayed long.
He took a deep, unsteady breath and reached out to knock almost timidly at the door.
Of anyone that Harry expected to be on the other side of that door, Thomas was not it. His eyebrows raised in obvious surprise though he tried to school his expression.
“...did you lose your key?”
Thomas shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. “I didn’t want to interrupt...anything.” He pressed his lips together, feeling like he was about to fall apart the second he saw Harry. But he kept it together and added, “Can I come in?”
Harry’s expression soured, because the last thing he’d wanted to do was become estranged with Thomas, but...naturally that was what had happened. “I’ll put a sock on the door,” he said dryly, then stepped back from the door in invitation.
Thomas just nodded and stepped inside, looking around the place as if he’d never seen it before. “I need your help,” he said simply, without preamble, biting his lip briefly.
Whatever else was wrong between them--and there was more than there should be, probably--Harry would never refuse Thomas aid. He nodded as he shut the door. “What’s wrong?”
Thomas wandered into the kitchen, randomly opening Harry’s cupboards in search of alcohol. He should have just brought his own, but he hadn’t. “Robin is missing,” he admitted in a low voice. “We had a--he left on Sunday, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of him since. I need you to track him so I can make sure he’s okay.” And if he was, then Thomas would let him go. If Robin was okay and just avoiding him, what else could he do?
A muscle in Harry’s jaw tensed, and he sighed a little, because, naturally, he should have known. Who else could make Thomas so concerned? Who else meant as much to Thomas, except maybe Justine?
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “You have any uh...DNA on you?”
“Shit!” Thomas slammed a cupboard, nearly breaking it free of its hinges. “No. I don’t have anything.” He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I can probably find some hair or something, back home...”
“It’s okay,” Harry said quickly, warily. “I can do the spell without it.” He studied Thomas for a long moment, then turned his back, heading downstairs to the lab. “Hey, Bob--need a tracking spell, pronto.”
Thomas sank against the counter, giving up on his search for alcohol as he heard the skull reply, “Do I get overtime pay?” He hesitated for a long moment, then slowly moved toward the opening in the floor that led down to the lab, descending into the room that he avoided most of the time, mostly for safety’s sake.
“I’ll take you to the double feature on Friday,” Harry promised. “Sandra Bullock.”
A disdainful sigh emanated from within the skull. “I’d rather a Mila Kunis.” The disembodied voice turned hopeful. “Isn’t her new slutty movie out?”
“Tracking spell,” Harry said, pointedly. “And then we can negotiate.”
He looked up when Thomas came downstairs, but simply nodded, then proceeded to move around the room, collecting the ingredients that Bob rattled off.
“So...why’d he take off?” he asked, because, well...he couldn’t not.
“I don’t know,” Thomas started, sinking down onto the bottom step before elaborating. “He met Lara.” Met her quite intimately, but Harry would figure that out in context soon enough. “I don’t think he liked feeling like food. And then he freaked out when we got home and said he needed to get some air.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “He never came back.”
It was more than Harry had expected to get, but then again...he and Thomas knew each other intimately. In ways that transcended whatever physical bond sex could give. “He is a puck,” he pointed out, quietly. “A fae. They’re not exactly known for their...dependability.”
In a cauldron he shredded a paper map of Kin, then added the sole of an old shoe, one well traveled through the streets of Kin. Next was a generous dollop of alcohol--what Harry expected was the source of Robin’s wandering, not that he would say to Thomas’s face. Finally, he added a pinch of dirt from Fae to call to Robin’s nature, and a handful of wind.
“I know,” Thomas answered quietly. “I just want to know that he’s all right. If he doesn’t want to come back...” Then he would deal. “I just need to know if he’s alive. I tried to find him myself, and...nothing.”
Harry nodded again. “Okay,” he said simply. While the mixture reduced, the scent of rubber and alcohol making him wrinkle his nose, he carried the cauldron to the scale model of Kin City. He channelled his magic, inhaled, then exhaled. “Paso paso!” he said, flinging the mixture into the air.
Most of it fizzled, but some mist held, like faint smoke, leaving a trail on the streets, retracing Robin’s last known steps through Kin.
Thomas got to his feet and came over to look, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked at the trail, then at Harry with a questioning look. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at, what it told them.
Harry glanced up at Thomas when he came close. “So...this basically retraces his last steps in Kin.” He followed the trail with his eyes, and then pinpointed where it stopped. “So...huh. Not a whole lot of traction for someone who’s been gone for almost a week.”
Thomas stared at the end of the trail, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “So where is he now?”
“Based on this?” Harry tilted his head, looked back to the pot, and shook it out over the map once more. “Punta,” he added, putting a little force behind the command.
The smoke swirled, coalesced to a single point, which was...in the middle of the sidewalk.
“...apparently, standing right there. Which is...odd. The trail should be moving.”
“Maybe he’s not moving,” Thomas replied, surveying the model and fixing in his mind the spot indicated. “Thanks,” he added, turning to head back up the stairs. He’d have to move fast if he didn’t want to lose Robin again before he had a chance to talk to him.
“Wait.”
Harry turned back to his shelves and rummaged until he found his map of doorways into fae. He hummed as he consulted the map, and then handed it to Thomas, pointing to a particularly large red dot. “There’s an entrance there. A weak spot.”
Thomas’ shoulders slumped a little. If Robin was in the Nevernever...that probably meant he wanted to be. He took the map and nodded, heading for the door again. “Guess I’m going on a field trip,” he muttered. It probably meant he wanted to be, but Thomas wasn’t taking a chance. He’d get it directly from the puck’s mouth.
Harry turned back to Bob, preferring to regard the skull rather than his brother. “Not alone,” he said quietly.
Thomas stopped and looked back at Harry. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.” He knew Harry didn’t like Robin...okay, loathed him. Harry’d done his part of the job, he’d tracked Robin down. Thomas would do the rest on his own if he had to.
“I know that.” Harry turned back around, and his expression was fierce. “But you’re not doing this alone.” You don’t know what you might find, he didn’t add.
Thomas regarded him for a moment, then gave a nod and a faint smile. “I need to gear up. Meet me there in a half hour?”
Harry mirrored the smile, his body unconsciously mirroring his posture. “Half an hour.”
“Thank you.” Thomas looked at Harry for a moment or two more, expression torn, then he turned and jogged back up to the main floor to let himself out.
And that was why he found himself looking at the door to Harry’s apartment that evening, just standing there for a few nervous moments to try to compose himself. He was pretty sure he could count on Harry’s help, even for Robin. Especially since Robin was Harry’s client, and if he ended up dead, he would be very unlikely to settle the bill. Normally there would be no doubt at all in Thomas’ mind, of course Harry would help. But this week had been pretty much nothing but doubt, with his friends Worry and Fear singing backup. Thomas ran his fingers through hair that hadn’t seen a single product in a few days. At least it matched the faint dark circles under his eyes. Sleep had not come easily, and had not stayed long.
He took a deep, unsteady breath and reached out to knock almost timidly at the door.
Of anyone that Harry expected to be on the other side of that door, Thomas was not it. His eyebrows raised in obvious surprise though he tried to school his expression.
“...did you lose your key?”
Thomas shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. “I didn’t want to interrupt...anything.” He pressed his lips together, feeling like he was about to fall apart the second he saw Harry. But he kept it together and added, “Can I come in?”
Harry’s expression soured, because the last thing he’d wanted to do was become estranged with Thomas, but...naturally that was what had happened. “I’ll put a sock on the door,” he said dryly, then stepped back from the door in invitation.
Thomas just nodded and stepped inside, looking around the place as if he’d never seen it before. “I need your help,” he said simply, without preamble, biting his lip briefly.
Whatever else was wrong between them--and there was more than there should be, probably--Harry would never refuse Thomas aid. He nodded as he shut the door. “What’s wrong?”
Thomas wandered into the kitchen, randomly opening Harry’s cupboards in search of alcohol. He should have just brought his own, but he hadn’t. “Robin is missing,” he admitted in a low voice. “We had a--he left on Sunday, and I haven’t been able to get ahold of him since. I need you to track him so I can make sure he’s okay.” And if he was, then Thomas would let him go. If Robin was okay and just avoiding him, what else could he do?
A muscle in Harry’s jaw tensed, and he sighed a little, because, naturally, he should have known. Who else could make Thomas so concerned? Who else meant as much to Thomas, except maybe Justine?
“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “You have any uh...DNA on you?”
“Shit!” Thomas slammed a cupboard, nearly breaking it free of its hinges. “No. I don’t have anything.” He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I can probably find some hair or something, back home...”
“It’s okay,” Harry said quickly, warily. “I can do the spell without it.” He studied Thomas for a long moment, then turned his back, heading downstairs to the lab. “Hey, Bob--need a tracking spell, pronto.”
Thomas sank against the counter, giving up on his search for alcohol as he heard the skull reply, “Do I get overtime pay?” He hesitated for a long moment, then slowly moved toward the opening in the floor that led down to the lab, descending into the room that he avoided most of the time, mostly for safety’s sake.
“I’ll take you to the double feature on Friday,” Harry promised. “Sandra Bullock.”
A disdainful sigh emanated from within the skull. “I’d rather a Mila Kunis.” The disembodied voice turned hopeful. “Isn’t her new slutty movie out?”
“Tracking spell,” Harry said, pointedly. “And then we can negotiate.”
He looked up when Thomas came downstairs, but simply nodded, then proceeded to move around the room, collecting the ingredients that Bob rattled off.
“So...why’d he take off?” he asked, because, well...he couldn’t not.
“I don’t know,” Thomas started, sinking down onto the bottom step before elaborating. “He met Lara.” Met her quite intimately, but Harry would figure that out in context soon enough. “I don’t think he liked feeling like food. And then he freaked out when we got home and said he needed to get some air.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper. “He never came back.”
It was more than Harry had expected to get, but then again...he and Thomas knew each other intimately. In ways that transcended whatever physical bond sex could give. “He is a puck,” he pointed out, quietly. “A fae. They’re not exactly known for their...dependability.”
In a cauldron he shredded a paper map of Kin, then added the sole of an old shoe, one well traveled through the streets of Kin. Next was a generous dollop of alcohol--what Harry expected was the source of Robin’s wandering, not that he would say to Thomas’s face. Finally, he added a pinch of dirt from Fae to call to Robin’s nature, and a handful of wind.
“I know,” Thomas answered quietly. “I just want to know that he’s all right. If he doesn’t want to come back...” Then he would deal. “I just need to know if he’s alive. I tried to find him myself, and...nothing.”
Harry nodded again. “Okay,” he said simply. While the mixture reduced, the scent of rubber and alcohol making him wrinkle his nose, he carried the cauldron to the scale model of Kin City. He channelled his magic, inhaled, then exhaled. “Paso paso!” he said, flinging the mixture into the air.
Most of it fizzled, but some mist held, like faint smoke, leaving a trail on the streets, retracing Robin’s last known steps through Kin.
Thomas got to his feet and came over to look, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked at the trail, then at Harry with a questioning look. He didn’t know what the hell he was looking at, what it told them.
Harry glanced up at Thomas when he came close. “So...this basically retraces his last steps in Kin.” He followed the trail with his eyes, and then pinpointed where it stopped. “So...huh. Not a whole lot of traction for someone who’s been gone for almost a week.”
Thomas stared at the end of the trail, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “So where is he now?”
“Based on this?” Harry tilted his head, looked back to the pot, and shook it out over the map once more. “Punta,” he added, putting a little force behind the command.
The smoke swirled, coalesced to a single point, which was...in the middle of the sidewalk.
“...apparently, standing right there. Which is...odd. The trail should be moving.”
“Maybe he’s not moving,” Thomas replied, surveying the model and fixing in his mind the spot indicated. “Thanks,” he added, turning to head back up the stairs. He’d have to move fast if he didn’t want to lose Robin again before he had a chance to talk to him.
“Wait.”
Harry turned back to his shelves and rummaged until he found his map of doorways into fae. He hummed as he consulted the map, and then handed it to Thomas, pointing to a particularly large red dot. “There’s an entrance there. A weak spot.”
Thomas’ shoulders slumped a little. If Robin was in the Nevernever...that probably meant he wanted to be. He took the map and nodded, heading for the door again. “Guess I’m going on a field trip,” he muttered. It probably meant he wanted to be, but Thomas wasn’t taking a chance. He’d get it directly from the puck’s mouth.
Harry turned back to Bob, preferring to regard the skull rather than his brother. “Not alone,” he said quietly.
Thomas stopped and looked back at Harry. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.” He knew Harry didn’t like Robin...okay, loathed him. Harry’d done his part of the job, he’d tracked Robin down. Thomas would do the rest on his own if he had to.
“I know that.” Harry turned back around, and his expression was fierce. “But you’re not doing this alone.” You don’t know what you might find, he didn’t add.
Thomas regarded him for a moment, then gave a nod and a faint smile. “I need to gear up. Meet me there in a half hour?”
Harry mirrored the smile, his body unconsciously mirroring his posture. “Half an hour.”
“Thank you.” Thomas looked at Harry for a moment or two more, expression torn, then he turned and jogged back up to the main floor to let himself out.