This story is best read in tandem with Raeynn Beau's Strip My Mind and follows the first chapter of that fic, "Californication."
Regulus Black set the plates of food down on the table and wondered how he had arrived where he was. It seemed like more than half a year had passed since he had faked his death, but of all the scenarios he had considered might play out, he hadn't expected that he would end up waiting tables in Muggle London.
When he had decided to betray Voldemort, Regulus had realized he would be a bit of an idiot if he made the effort alone. The Department of Mysteries was out as an ally simply because Voldemort had a spy high in their ranks, so Regulus had contacted a government he knew wouldn't communicate readily with the Ministry without making a big stink about sovereignty and not knowing anything about what they were talking about. The Americans had been more than willing to help, given that any front the Cold War could be fought on was fair game, not that Voldemort had any communist connections. Regulus gathered it was more of a game of making sure none of the country's allies looked unstable. The mess with Voldemort definitely qualified as unstable.
Regulus sighed as he went about his work, wishing he hadn't been saddled with the awful tippers yet again. He made enough money for a crappy little flat out in Brixton, but he scarcely had any left over to do more than pay the bills and eat. Times like these he wished he had stayed in the United States. He had been offered amnesty and safe harbor after he had almost died, but after writing up everything he knew about Voldemort and his horcruxes, Regulus had decided to return to Britain and leave the relative safety of northern Virginia behind. He didn't like that he had abandoned his family, and from what one of his doctors told him, Sirius hadn't taken his death anything nearing well. Regulus thus felt it was more of a duty than anything else to keep an eye on his brother, not that he had any time for it.
James Potter sufficed, in any case, and Regulus knew that if Sirius had been faced with a choice between the two, Potter would have been the one to live, not Regulus. Really, it was better things had turned out this way. Sirius didn't have to worry about trying to keep Regulus out of trouble with the wizard cops and also had a brother to keep him from doing something mind-numbingly stupid.
Usually Regulus didn't wax maudlin as much as he was, but he knew he couldn't stop thinking about Sirius because of the date. His brother turned twenty-one today. That was the drinking age in the States, but the pretty medwitch who had treated Regulus after … well, she had supplied him with enough wine to drink himself into oblivion. The woman hadn't really approved of his drinking to excess, but she seemed to understand.
Once Regulus's shift was over, he took to wandering the city. He honestly wanted to go home and sleep forever, but home was a place he couldn't go any more. Mum would probably disown him once she found out what he had done. Dad's reaction, that Regulus was unsure of. On one hand, he imagined his father telling him job well done but don't do that ever again. On the other, he feared his father would react much as his mother would. Orion Black had never seemed to care one way or the other about politics, but Regulus knew his father had an opinion on it. Given how their family had been torn apart over the damn war, he had to.
Regulus grimaced as he made a misstep and wrenched his bad ankle. The healers had done their best to fix him up, but some of the injuries Bellatrix had inflicted were still troubling him. He was glad at this point that Bellatrix hadn't decided to hamstring him, although severing the Achilles tendon had been about as effective. The medwitch had managed to restore his leg to working order, but he still favored it. She insisted that it would go away over time, but Regulus had felt like a fool having to use a crutch just in case his ankle gave, even for those short months.
He tugged at his collar, feeling overheated. It was what he got for wearing a black oxford shirt in summer. Regulus looked down at his hands and wondered if he was doing the right thing by running. He was running; he knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. He should have been going after Voldemort's horcruxes. He was in the UK. He had access. He could have located and stolen at least one or two more. But here he was, just living.
Feeling guilty and wandering the city had never been a good combination for Regulus. Today, especially, considering that his train of thought had led him to Diagon Alley. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that Sirius would have gone out with the Potters and Lupin at least. Well, that was a bit inaccurate. Lupin would have at least had enough presence of mind to drag Sirius out of his bed, the bottle, or both.
Regulus looked different enough that no one quite recognized him. He knew that. This was not his first sojourn into Diagon Alley since his return to London. The scarring from what Bellatrix had done was fairly extensive, although Regulus supposed he wasn't hideous. The medwitch said the ones on his face were barely noticeable and more like scars from scratches, but Regulus had the feeling she was just being nice. The ones on his back were objectively terrible to look at, but Bellatrix thankfully didn't much favor her whip. Regulus shook his head to dispel the memories. He didn't need to think on that, and no one would recognize him. He had to keep that in mind. Bellatrix wouldn't be able to hurt him again. She wouldn't think of him if she saw a man dressed in Muggle clothing with hair longer than Sirius's. He was dead, after all.
Regulus's meandering path brought him past Knockturn Alley, just the place he wanted to avoid. However, he faintly heard the sounds of a scuffle. He knew he probably should not interfere.
He shouldn't.
Regulus cursed himself as he crept towards the scene. His blood turned to ice in his veins as he realized that Bellatrix and her minions were the antagonists. Regulus tried to retreat, but he was frozen in fear. He couldn't let her see him. If she recognized him, he was worse than dead. Hell, if she noticed him, he might as well AK himself before she had the chance to lay her hands on him again. No one would be willing to save him this time.
Then the screaming started.
Regulus knew it was the Cruciatus. There was nothing else in the world that inflicted agony in that manner. At least, Regulus was fairly certain there wasn't. He had suffered under the curse enough to feel confident in its effects, but he knew some people considered there to be worse fates than the pain curse. He could interfere, couldn't he? Without Bellatrix noticing him? It wouldn't take much to interfere. He'd only have to send a blasting curse at a wall and cut her off from her victim. The Aurors would likely show up soon as well. That was one hell of an ungodly scream, after all.
Yes, he could interfere like that. Rubble was already strewn everywhere. Bellatrix wouldn't be able to tell if a wall just collapsed a bit later than expected or if one of the Order decided to show up. Regulus wouldn't have put it past Lily to stick a charm on Sirius warning her of impending stupidity. It would likely go off every five minutes, but that was his brother.
Merlin, that was his brother. What could have caused Sirius to think battling Bellatrix was a good idea? Nothing in Regulus's mind immediately jumped out at him. He was in fact fairly certain that there was nothing to justify it in the least. Regulus could only repeat damn over and over in his head as he made his way from his hiding spot to a suitable position for his scheme. Bellatrix had just let up on the curse and was smirking smugly as Sirius ceased screaming. There was enough room between his cousin and his brother for Regulus to collapse a bit of the wall, and he sent the spell off not a moment too soon. The apparation noises as the Aurors began to arrive were expected, but Regulus had to check on his brother before fleeing the scene like Bellatrix and her husband (and Rabastard) looked to be contemplating. They still had a couple minutes to make their decision, but it was unlikely they would try anything as stupid as side-along apparation with Sirius at this juncture.
Regulus quickly apparated himself to the side of the rubble with his brother, certain enough that the Death Eaters wouldn't do the same given the impending Auror swarm. Sirius was lying on the ground, staring dazedly upwards at the sky. Regulus didn't much blame him for being a bit out of it. That always happened with the Cruciatus. When they had been children, Bellatrix had cast it on them in order to show them how to make it less awful. At least, that had been her excuse. Sirius hadn't much been fazed by it, even if Regulus had always felt like it was tearing him up on the inside and leaving behind a gory mess. Andromeda had put a stop to that, and Regulus had never loved his cousin more than when she did.
Leaning over his brother, Regulus checked to see if Sirius had managed to give himself a concussion or worse. Sirius's eyes reacted properly, so it wasn't likely he'd suffered brain damage, but it didn't look as if he even noticed the light. A brief moment of terror gripped Regulus, inciting him to check his older brother's pulse as it had made him wonder nonsensically if Bellatrix had instead killed Sirius. He felt a pulse, a strong one at that, and Regulus let himself breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't imagining things. Sirius was alive. He'd probably even be okay once the healers at St. Mungo's got a hold of him.
There were more an more sounds of apparation, and Regulus's courage finally failed. He needed to leave. He was the only one near his brother, and to make matters worse, he also had a garish tattoo on his left arm supposedly signaling a lifetime of service to a homicidal maniac. If he stayed, there was only one place he would end up, and Regulus had no intention of living out the rest of his days in that hell-hole. Azkaban wasn't even fit to house the dementors.
"I'm sorry," Regulus murmured, wishing he could stay and wishing he could say more. He wished he could tell Sirius he had been right and Regulus had been so awfully wrong. That there was more wrong with Bellatrix than Sirius had ever imagined, that there was nothing wrong with muggle-borns or half-bloods or anything. That everything that had been ingrained in them as children was wrong. That he was so, so sorry for everything he had put his brother through. Sirius didn't deserve what he had ended up receiving as a result of Regulus's 'death'. That the Ministry would look at Sirius as a suspect was absurd. Anyone with half a brain would have known it was Bellatrix, but then again, that required the Ministry to have more than half a brain. Regulus wasn't even sure that the elder Crouch had a thousandth of one, and that was the man who played judge, jury, and executioner to whomever was accused of serving Voldemort. All the spies in Voldemort's ranks were lucky that Crouch hadn't cottoned on to them yet. Otherwise, who knew? Maybe Severus and Pettigrew would be sent to the Chateau d'If of the North Sea by now if Crouch had.
With one last look at his brother, Regulus repeated his apology before fleeing. That, at least, he knew he was good at.