A/N: Well, this is shounen-ai, specifically Bart+Billy. The world needs more Bart/Billy fic, and I intend to help. :D Anyway, this has spoilers for the whole Ethos thing, so if you haven't had Billy in your party for a while, you may not want to read. This part may seem out of character for Billy, but I thought his reaction to the whole Ethos thing was very unrealistic. He really needed some kind of catharsis, so I gave it to him.
That said, this part is mainly concerned with Billy-angst! XD; I thought about trying to stretch it out since it's considerably shorter than part one, but it seemed kind of fake and it cheapened the point I was trying to make. So here you go.
Note, constructive criticisms are quite welcome. Sorry it took so long to post this part, but I got distracted by Xenosaga. *_* Please forgive me.
No Rest for the Wicked
Part Two
Billy Lee Black had a headache. It was, of course, the least of his worries, but it was the one that finally managed to rouse him out of slumber. In the back of his mind, he was sure there were much more important things to think about ('Like why you're not in your own room,' his "conscience" supplied), but he would deal with them as soon as the gears ceased stomping around inside his skull.
"Damn," muttered Billy's pillow, "that stuff sure has a kick the next day, don't it?" The etone cringed at the sound.
"Stop yelling," he rasped. "In fact, just stop making noise so I can go back to sleep."
"Yeah. Last coupl'a shots were a bad idea."
'Last couple of shots?...' Suddenly, the headache, the talking pillow, and the distinct fuzzy spot in his memory made terrible sense. Billy took a deep breath and told himself, 'I will open my eyes and I will not be in Bart's room in Bart's bed with Bart. I will not have stupidly gotten drunk with him last night. I will not have poured my heart out to him. I'll open my eyes and all of that will be a dream.'
The etone had to admit to himself that he was not particularly good at self-delusion of late. Especially not while hungover. He groaned, "Never again," and winced at the sound of his own voice. Unfortunately, the energy to move (brought on by the realization of what had happened) left him then, and he laid there, sprawled out in Bart's room, in Bart's bed, with Bart, feeling miserable.
'You're lower than dirt, Billy Lee Black,' his conscience hissed. 'Need I list your sins?'
"... no..."
Bart propped himself up with his elbows behind him and favored Billy with a worried, if somewhat drowsy, look. "Eh?"
Billy's conscience paid neither of them heed. 'Despairing of our Lord, questioning Him, renouncing Him, drinking in excess, lust, and, worst of all, giving in to your carnal desires with another man.'
Pushing himself up with both his hands, the etone tumbled out of the bed, taking some of the blanket with him. With a half-hearted snarl, he kicked the offending linens away and scrambled for the door. 'Don't worry, our Lord forgives all tresspasses. He only asks you to repent.'
"Argh!" Billy yelled, cluching at his pounding head with one hand while groping blindly for the door release button with the other. When he finally found it, he jabbed it ruthlessly. Without the door in his way, he stumbled out of Bart's room (leaving behind Bart's bed as well as Bart) and up the stairs.
He had no idea where he was going until he arrived at his rather modest quarters. He staggered there in a daze which no one seemed to be able to penetrate other than the voice of his concience, which goaded him, 'Repent, sinner!' He was no more gentle opening this door than he had been opening Bart's.
When he stepped inside and switched on the lights, his stomach gave a terrible lurch. Even though he had not been on the Yggdrasil long, his room was not quite bare. Scattered around were the artifacts and icons of the Ethos, including his dog-eared copy of the Holy Book.
'Just repent; our Lord will accept you if you purge yourself of sin.'
"No!" Billy growled, reaching for the nearest icon and dashing it to the floor. "I will not repent! I refuse to commit idolatry anymore!" The next-nearest item crashed near his feet and shattered; the next was a statue, so it mearly clanged and left a ding in the floor. The next was a ceramic replica of the ram-horned symbol of the Ethos, the pieces of which scattered half-way across the room.
Item after item bore witness to Billy's anger, even things which had nothing to do with his former life. The bedsheets were ripped and discarded in a pile near the door, the matress lay upended against one wall, the drawers to his nightstand and their contents were strewn across the room.
Finally, the only item which remained intact was Billy's copy of the Book. For a moment, he considered drawing one of his pistols and shooting it until it was nothing more than confetti, but he dismissed the thought. Instead, he stepped calmly through the debris, perched on the frame of his bed, and gently opened it to the dedication page.
My dear young Billy, may this put you on the path to redemption. Kindly, Bishop Stone.
"You bastard," Billy managed to hiss through clenched teeth. His grip on the Book tightened until his knuckles were white and his hands shook. "You lying bastard!"
First, he ripped the cover from the spine. Next, in handfuls, pages were torn out and rent to shreds. All the while, Billy raged at Bishop Stone, the Ethos, his father-- everything. When there was nothing but a large drift of paper scraps to attest to the Book's existance, Billy stood, shaking still, and began to sob. His headache, which he had ignored until this point, made itself known once again, and he dropped to his knees among the remnants of his religion.
'Murderer. Idolator. Failure.' His conscience taunted him, but now the voice was his own. A shudder ran through him at this realization, and his sobbing continued.
"I have killed... so many people... In the name of a God who doesn't even exist! All the things I... the things I did in His name..." He shook his head, but that only made the room spin. In response, he collapsed completely and closed his eyes. "Primera, I'm so sorry..."
~TBC~
That said, this part is mainly concerned with Billy-angst! XD; I thought about trying to stretch it out since it's considerably shorter than part one, but it seemed kind of fake and it cheapened the point I was trying to make. So here you go.
Note, constructive criticisms are quite welcome. Sorry it took so long to post this part, but I got distracted by Xenosaga. *_* Please forgive me.
No Rest for the Wicked
Part Two
Billy Lee Black had a headache. It was, of course, the least of his worries, but it was the one that finally managed to rouse him out of slumber. In the back of his mind, he was sure there were much more important things to think about ('Like why you're not in your own room,' his "conscience" supplied), but he would deal with them as soon as the gears ceased stomping around inside his skull.
"Damn," muttered Billy's pillow, "that stuff sure has a kick the next day, don't it?" The etone cringed at the sound.
"Stop yelling," he rasped. "In fact, just stop making noise so I can go back to sleep."
"Yeah. Last coupl'a shots were a bad idea."
'Last couple of shots?...' Suddenly, the headache, the talking pillow, and the distinct fuzzy spot in his memory made terrible sense. Billy took a deep breath and told himself, 'I will open my eyes and I will not be in Bart's room in Bart's bed with Bart. I will not have stupidly gotten drunk with him last night. I will not have poured my heart out to him. I'll open my eyes and all of that will be a dream.'
The etone had to admit to himself that he was not particularly good at self-delusion of late. Especially not while hungover. He groaned, "Never again," and winced at the sound of his own voice. Unfortunately, the energy to move (brought on by the realization of what had happened) left him then, and he laid there, sprawled out in Bart's room, in Bart's bed, with Bart, feeling miserable.
'You're lower than dirt, Billy Lee Black,' his conscience hissed. 'Need I list your sins?'
"... no..."
Bart propped himself up with his elbows behind him and favored Billy with a worried, if somewhat drowsy, look. "Eh?"
Billy's conscience paid neither of them heed. 'Despairing of our Lord, questioning Him, renouncing Him, drinking in excess, lust, and, worst of all, giving in to your carnal desires with another man.'
Pushing himself up with both his hands, the etone tumbled out of the bed, taking some of the blanket with him. With a half-hearted snarl, he kicked the offending linens away and scrambled for the door. 'Don't worry, our Lord forgives all tresspasses. He only asks you to repent.'
"Argh!" Billy yelled, cluching at his pounding head with one hand while groping blindly for the door release button with the other. When he finally found it, he jabbed it ruthlessly. Without the door in his way, he stumbled out of Bart's room (leaving behind Bart's bed as well as Bart) and up the stairs.
He had no idea where he was going until he arrived at his rather modest quarters. He staggered there in a daze which no one seemed to be able to penetrate other than the voice of his concience, which goaded him, 'Repent, sinner!' He was no more gentle opening this door than he had been opening Bart's.
When he stepped inside and switched on the lights, his stomach gave a terrible lurch. Even though he had not been on the Yggdrasil long, his room was not quite bare. Scattered around were the artifacts and icons of the Ethos, including his dog-eared copy of the Holy Book.
'Just repent; our Lord will accept you if you purge yourself of sin.'
"No!" Billy growled, reaching for the nearest icon and dashing it to the floor. "I will not repent! I refuse to commit idolatry anymore!" The next-nearest item crashed near his feet and shattered; the next was a statue, so it mearly clanged and left a ding in the floor. The next was a ceramic replica of the ram-horned symbol of the Ethos, the pieces of which scattered half-way across the room.
Item after item bore witness to Billy's anger, even things which had nothing to do with his former life. The bedsheets were ripped and discarded in a pile near the door, the matress lay upended against one wall, the drawers to his nightstand and their contents were strewn across the room.
Finally, the only item which remained intact was Billy's copy of the Book. For a moment, he considered drawing one of his pistols and shooting it until it was nothing more than confetti, but he dismissed the thought. Instead, he stepped calmly through the debris, perched on the frame of his bed, and gently opened it to the dedication page.
My dear young Billy, may this put you on the path to redemption. Kindly, Bishop Stone.
"You bastard," Billy managed to hiss through clenched teeth. His grip on the Book tightened until his knuckles were white and his hands shook. "You lying bastard!"
First, he ripped the cover from the spine. Next, in handfuls, pages were torn out and rent to shreds. All the while, Billy raged at Bishop Stone, the Ethos, his father-- everything. When there was nothing but a large drift of paper scraps to attest to the Book's existance, Billy stood, shaking still, and began to sob. His headache, which he had ignored until this point, made itself known once again, and he dropped to his knees among the remnants of his religion.
'Murderer. Idolator. Failure.' His conscience taunted him, but now the voice was his own. A shudder ran through him at this realization, and his sobbing continued.
"I have killed... so many people... In the name of a God who doesn't even exist! All the things I... the things I did in His name..." He shook his head, but that only made the room spin. In response, he collapsed completely and closed his eyes. "Primera, I'm so sorry..."
~TBC~