milliways_bar | Entries tagged with hero brown

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

[Timed to September 21: after packing, Hero says goodbye to Quinn and to the Beth family. ]

There, that's all done: this time she has a few choice pictures tucked into the inside chest pocket of her jacket. The heavy traveling backpack sits tall against her shoulders and she's glad as she looks around that Quinn isn't here this time. That would make it fucking impossible to leave. Even before him, though, she'd pretty much fallen for this place.

Oh well, Hero Brown, not a goddamn thing lasts forever. She straightens the hat on her head, checks that her guns are both loaded and ready, takes a deep breath, and pulls open the front door. She doesn't want to leave -- she's not a moron -- but she has to leave. On the other side of the door she can smell the dusty closed stillness of that church near Vegas.

Not a thing to do but walk through into the desert night; the door closes with a quiet click behind her.

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

Moving from the door to the bar, Hero lays down the items in her hands. "Payment for my tab, Bar. I hope that's fair." For a moment nothing happens, but then the items seem to simply disappear. When she checks her name on the tab board, there's a big fat zero next to it. That's good.

That's really good. "Thanks." She pats the bar's surface, then turns around, scanning the room sharply.

Shit: she doesn't see him. Stepping into the middle of the room, she clears her throat.

"Quinn?"

There's a moment's silence where she wonders what the fuck, is everyone deaf or something? before she tries again.

"I'm looking for a man named Quinn!"

Someone's got to have heard that one. Maybe she's not as patient as she used to be before every goddamn man on the planet but her dog of a brother dropped fucking dead, but she can bide her time for a little bit. She holds her trusty Polaroid camera tight in her hand, waiting and listening and watching and hoping like hell he didn't leave without saying goodbye.

stbethadettes

(There's nothing like contractions to interfere with a lazy night of movie-watching in room 8.

That lazy night doesn't turn out very lazy.)

maxwellsdemon02

It's late in the evening, for Duo. When the door opens to Milliways, he's still dressed in workout clothes, his hands wrapped in athletic tape.

He blinks, and glances back into his apartment, then comes all the way in and closes the door behind him with a shrug. He wipes a drop of sweat from his forehead and picks up a large glass of water at the bar.

Then he claims a booth, leans against the wall, and starts unwinding the tape.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: Quinn and Hero have their first conversation, after.]

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Quinn's drawn up the list of supplies he wants to get before he goes home. Tomorrow he'll settle down to the business of buying them, either from Bar or from other patrons who might be able to provide. Once that's done, he'll go home.

He's not looking forward to it. Most of that's for the obvious reasons; it's not as if his world has much to offer, after all. Going home is duty, not desire. It's just. . . well, there are times when he really wishes this place could be properly real. It's a temporary hiatus, that's all, and while he might be able to touch it, or live in it, or bring things back from it, it's never going to be really real. It's never going to be where he belongs or the world he has to live in, no matter what's there or who.

But it's all right for the moment, real enough for just now, and it's green even when there's not really enough light to see colour by. So he's outside, watching the trees and the lake under a sky he doesn't have to hide from. He can sleep later. This'll do for now.

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

This bar's kind of like a lot of other bars Hero's been in, but not for a long, long time. For one thing, weird as it seems, there's guys here, even though she has a hard time believing any of this is actually real. Every day she wakes up with this sneaking suspicion it's all just some weird dream, or that bullet she took in Frisco did more than just graze her neck, and now she's delirious. Half the time she thinks that's it, I've got a fever. It's all just delirium.

And then she looks outside and sees that lake and the green grass and the people there and at the bar, and she knows it's not a dream.

She's just fucking crazy.

And nothing like a glass of whiskey on the rocks to combat the crazies, no matter where in the universe she really is. So she sits at the bar, full glass in front of her, tracing a finger across the bar's surface. It's a comforting thing to do... for right now.

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

( Out by the lake, Hero and Spike have a talk in which no guns are drawn... or even sketched. )

stbethadettes

(In room 31 last week.)

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

Some chicks are tied into the generational, societal bullshit that tells them they should be compliant, not adventurous, not curious. They should hang around waiting for someone to hold their hands, let them know when it's okay to move, to breathe, to fucking think.

Hero Brown's never been that kind of female. And so after the best goddamn night's sleep she's had in what feels like a hundred years, she leaves Beth's room, key in pocket, gun in her holster because after all this time she doesn't trust very many people or places or circumstances, takes two right turns, heads down the stairs, and walks into a bar at the end of the goddamn fucking universe.

A bar with... what did Beth tell her? People from all over, from different universes. Yeah, right. Sure. That's a good one, Beth, you really had me going for a while there. But judging by the shit some people are wearing, maybe she wasn't joking. Maybe she was actually mother-of-fucking-God telling the truth. She is the santa madre, after all. And whatever room the santa madre ended up in, Hero hopes she's having a hell of a well-deserved rest.

And now all she has to do is figure out how this place fucking works.

no-real-hero.livejournal.com

( OOM: it really is the end of the goddamn universe. Room 31. )

stbethadettes

The door opens, and Beth, heavily pregnant, stands stock still in the doorway and blinks her eyes against the unexpected light greeting her.

This isn't funny.

On the other side of the door is a darkened church hallway -- not of St. Bernadette's -- and she's got one hand wrapped on the outer doorknob and one hand wrapped around a small flashlight.

No, seriously. This isn't funny.

Her eyes blink once more, but the bar doesn't dissolve in front of her or anything. She quickly scans the crowd, looking for one person in particular, but she doesn't find who she's looking for. Not at the bar, not at the usual table, not anywhere else.

So obviously, there's one thing she has to do before she can give the bar a better search. Carefully holding the door open (looks like the door's seen better days, too), she bends to pick up a tattered hymnal that she promptly jams in it so it stays open.

"If you let this goddamn door close, you're kindling tomorrow night."

It takes her a moment to convince herself it'll hold, but after that, she hurries away from the door like a woman on a mission, the beam of the flashlight guiding her way.

A matter of minutes later, she's back with Hero. All their belongings are on their backs or in their arms, and they don't waste any time before coming on through. Beth only turns to pull the hymnal back out of the door and let it close behind them.