milliways_bar | (no subject)

Head scarf tucked beneath his arm but still clad in his galabayya, Bill opens the door entirely absorbed in Al-Ahram Weekly. The letters on the newsprint would be unrecognisable to most, but he's worked in Luxor for a long time and knows the language almost too well. He doesn't really seem to register anyone at the bar or even the fact he's back at the bar: he's fixated on the paper. Stumbling into the nearest table, he curses beneath his breath but sits in the closest available chair, drawing out his wand.

He uses it as a pen; it highlights the article he's reading. He sets that paper aside and takes out another one: he's got a whole stack. Next up is Cairo Live, and after that it will be the Middle East Times. He'll finish with the Egypt Daily News and that will be enough. His face falls as he reads; he finds himself highlighting more and more news stories that by themselves might be entirely insignificant but when they're read as a series... they start to fall together like pieces of a puzzle.

Fuck. These are not random acts, he thinks. No: on 12 January in Siwa, a house was set afire and all the camels' throats slit. The family who owned the property were never found. A week later at the Dakhla Oasis near Mut, a woman was found dead but no cause of death could be established. On 3 February, three eleven-year-old children were found stoned to death on the banks of the Nile near Sohag. In mid-February a family disappeared from Mallawi and another from Minya. And on and on it went: in none of these cases was motive ever established, and no perpetrators were ever caught.

"Fuck!" Bill says it out loud this time, hand wrapping unhappily round the end of his wand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck." He flags down a passing wait-rat. "Bring me a large glass of Ogden's. In fact, make it the whole bloody bottle. They're heading straight towards Cairo."

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He could assure her she will, but he doesn't.

He could tell her she'll be sending seven children off to Hogwarts for years and years from Platform 9-3/4. He doesn't.

Instead, he simply smiles and folds the magazine closed again. "If you don't see it again, at least you'll have fond memories of it."

"That's true," she said. "And I've met someone here who's offered to take me to a place called San Francisco... maybe he could open the door to Egypt one day, as well. He does an awful lot of travelling."

"Really? And who might that be?"

He's calm and casual and sips his Ogden's and twists his wedding band round his finger and inside, he's in a state of near-panic. He really doesn't want to know about his mum's love life.

And that's the only assumption he can make, based on the signals she's giving him at the moment.

"His name is Cain," she tells him with a smile. "He's really very nice... I think you'd like him. He says that he's near a million years old, and he was in the opening chapters of the Bible. I looked it up in the Bible the Bar gave me."

Bill's eyes widen.

Oh, for fuck's sake, mum, get a hold of yourself! What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?

Wait. I'm not your father. If you keep up this way, you may never be my mother.

Or else you're not really Mum from my timeline. That must be it. And if that's the case...

"That sounds just lovely." His brain hurts. It's all a bit much.

"He's apparently cursed to walk the earth until the end of days, or something like that," she tells him, oblivious to any impending strokes she might be causing. "So he's been to so many places and seen so many things, I doubt he'd be able to count them all."

"Well. It certainly sounds... different. I do hope you enjoy it, if you decide to test the waters with him."

This is a hugely costly conversation for Bill, and he thinks he will definitely regret it come morning. But he can't let on that she's destined for a different life and so for now, he simply ignores reality and leans forward conspiratorially. "I'd go off with someone who could take me everywhere. I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Then, he sits back. "Of course, it would depend on my conscience. They'd have to be a decent sort. One who wouldn't take advantage. You know the type."

She smiles at him, and hopes he doesn't notice her blush at the mention of testing the waters.

"He's very nice. And decent, and smart," she says. "And I am finding him to be a very good friend."

He noticdes the blush.

Definitely.

At this point, the entire discussion has strayed so far from his concept of reality, he has no idea what to say. He simply keeps telling himself this isn't happening, this isn't happening.

"Nice and decent and smart: those are all excellent qualities. But why am I giving you counsel? You don't need my word. You'll do whatever you want to do regardless; I'm just another man in a bar."

Liar.

He's highly amused at himself. It's not every day that he feels himself flailing this way.

"Not just some man in a bar," she chides. "You are a friend. It's nice that you care. I don't think you need to worry, though. I'm being careful."

"That's so very good to know."

More than he cares to know. There are some things he simply doesn't want to imagine. "Another glass of Ogden's before I go? I hate to leave Fleur waiting for me for too long: I'm sure you know what that's like."

"No, thank you. I'm surprsied I've finished the first," she says, blinking at her empty glass. "I hope she's well?"

"She's very well, thank you. I told her I wouldn't be long; I should really be getting back to her. I'll give her your best, though: shall I?"

Gathering up his newspapers, he considers the Luxor magazine, then pushes it across the table to Molly. "Here, you can keep this one if you like. It's got some interesting historical facts in it. Perhaps your friend -- Cain, did you call him? -- can tell you more about it if he's been everywhere."

He smiles very pleasantly, thinking Fleur is not going to believe this conversation. Standing, Bill tucks the newspapers under his arm along with the head scarf. He can get away without wearing that for a few more minutes. Once he's in Luxor, it goes on again, though.