milliways_bar | (no subject)

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I think this is the lesson I was supposed to learn. I think I was supposed to know where my memories of Susanne came from, and why. I think that was what was keeping me here. And I think I hope this is not just wishful thinking.

All the times he's opened that door, he's seen nothing but a void, a swirling mass of darkness and destruction and he's not been anywhere near desperate enough to try to walk out into that. It would be a leap of faith far beyond his bounds, far beyond anything he could think of doing or actually bringing himself to do.

But this night... it feels... different, somehow.

And so he decides to try the door, see if the Bar will let him leave now that he's relived his nightmare with Tom's assistance. Bill takes a deep breath.

Ready, Bill? Ready.

The doorknob feels somehow cold, and he's not sure if it's reality or his own expectations making it that way.

Confidence, Bill. Why wouldn't it let you leave now?

That's more like it. He shakes back his long hair, touches the dragon fang earring for luck, and opens the door... and it's different.

No swirling void.

Bill looks through, then steps back into the bar, his face pale. This was not what he expected. Come to think on it, he's not sure where he expected to see: Cairo? The Burrow? Gringotts? London? But certainly not this.

Not the dungeon room from which he escaped.

He closes the door quickly. He is not going back to captivity. He'd rather be stuck here for all time.

Walking quickly to the bar, he orders a cup of tea. 3 sugars, fresh cream.

That, Bill, is the universe's way of saying Fuck You! loud and clear. He grins, and the grin widens into a smile, and he laughs. He doesn't care who hears.

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"Bill?" Ron's eyebrows are creased with worry. "What's so funny?"

Shaking his head, Bill still laughs and points to the door.

"I'm not Bound here any more."

Some bloody sense of humour!

Ron grinned. "That's great! So you can go home now then?"

Reaching over, he tousles his brother's hair. "No, Ron, I can't go home. I can go back to the Death Eaters, however."

He fixes his tea, still highly amused. "What do you think? Shall I?"

Ron looked horrified. "Are you telling me that you can only go back if you go back with them?"

He wipes his eyes: the ridiculousness of the situation is far from lost on him. "Apparently so, little brother. At this moment, that's what the door opens upon for me. I think... not."

Bill taps the bar. "Fish and chips, if you don't mind. If I can't go out there to get them, I can eat them here. With malt vinegar, please, Bar. That's a lovely girl."

At the moment, he looks supremely unconcerned by any of it. It's a bit on the insane side.

"Bill...I..." Ron bit his lip and then reached over and wrapped his arms around his older brother in a very unmanly hug.

"I won't let it happen. I won't," he muttered furiously.

"There, there." Bill extricates from his brother's embrace, partly because it's going to make him think about what's really happened and partly because his fish and chips have arrived. "No changing the future, Ron. It's all there for a reason."

The whole thing is a bit surreal, actually.

But really. "Listen, Ron. It's really not up to you to try to change things, and I'd as soon you didn't. What if you did try to influence it, and instead of mere capture I were killed? Easier for me, perhaps, but not necessarily for you. So think on it carefully, right?"

He pours vinegar liberally over the chips: it smells like heaven.

Or at least like Greenwich.

"Where is it?" Ron asked him, so upset he was practically buzzing. "If I know where it is, I can wait at least until after you came here, and then I can tell everyone where you are. 'Cause otherwise--" He cut himself off, rather than hear the end of it.

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Columbia looks over at the guys sitting down the bar from her and smiles.

"You okay?"

"Oh, never better." Bill glances at the girl sitting nearby; he's still shaking his head in amusement. "The other morning I swore off drink, but tonight I'm rethinking that."

"Why's that? Swearing off drink sounds silly ,anyway cause sometimes you just need a shot of something. " Columbia shrugs. " I guess it's all in what you're into."

"It's a very long, very sad story: how much time have you got? I'm Bill, by the way." He reaches over and squeezes her hand.

If this is the way life is destined to be, so be it. He might as well make the very best of it.

"I have all the time in the world. Dead and stuck here so I really can take any story you give me, sad or not." she squeezes his hand back. "I'm Columbia."

"I'm sorry, love. I was Bound here till just now, but I've discovered that the reality to which I can return isn't really a place I care to go. I suppose it wasn't that long a story after all."

Not when he tells it that way. "Would the lovely dead lady named Columbia care for a drink?"

Columbia nods understandingly. "Well, that sounds pretty easy to understand. I am kinda glad I am here rather than some of the places I have been." she smiles "Yes, I think a drink would be nice. I will have a bourbon and water, thank you."

"Bar, a bourbon and water for the lady. And for me..." He considers his cup of tea.

Drink, don't drink. Drink, don't drink. Drink, don't drink to excess. "I'll have have a pint of ale and half a pint of cider, together."

Bill turns to Columbia. "At the risk of being far too abrupt to be allowed, how does it feel to be dead?"

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*Charlie wanders over*

Hey Billy boy.

"Charlie. Sit the fuck down, would you?" He pats the chair next to him. "The damnedest thing just happened to me. It makes for a good story."

*Charlie looks at him for a long moment, then takes a seat*

You okay?

"I am, for no good reason."

Bill fingers the fang earring; it's always been a thing of comfort. "The other night I let Tom Riddle do a bit of Legilimency on me: I needed to know if there were any suggestions implanted in my brain to harm or kill anyone close to me. During the course of our little experiment, I learnt some interesting things... mostly about myself. Then, in true Bill fashion I drank myself into oblivion. But now I'm not Bound here any more. There's just one small problem about that."

He grins, and again it turns into a laugh.

"I can leave... if I want to go back to my captors."

Fuck.

"Fuck."

Fuck.

*he rubs his eyes and winces*

Fuck, Bill. What can I... How the hell are you okay? You don't have to be, you know that, right? I mean, you don't have to...

*he rolls his eyes and punches Bill lightly on the arm*

I'm here for you, right?

With a nod, he glances at his brother. "I know. I can be however I need to be and I'm glad you're here, Charlie. But really, I'm all right. At least now what happens is my choice."

He sits back and considers his brother, eyes narrowed in thought. "If I give it enough thought, I might be able to figure out a way to get out through there..." he points to the door "...and not be captured again. Or maybe on another night the door will open to home. I don't know. I just don't know."

Again, his hand goes to the earring; he takes it out and studies it. "Riddle told me that Voldemort was there. I hardly thought myself important enough to attract his attention."

*he visibly pales at Voldemort's name*

And you're... you're okay? No murderous impulses, right?

*his smile is strained*

Other than usual sibling crap, anyway.

"Right." Just at the moment, he's very fond of his siblings, crap and all.

No murderous impulses. That's a very good thing.

"Riddle assures me there were no suggestions planted in this thick skull of mine. Do you trust him?"