A/N: Well, this is shounen-ai, specifically BartBilly. 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.
I finally realized what an interesting character Primera could be. If I abused her, I apologize, but she's such a good tool for getting certain points across. XD; Again, another short-ish chapter because I got the main things I wanted to say all said and trying to lengthen it just made it feel cheap.
Anyway, constructive crits still welcom. :D
No Rest for the Wicked
Part Three
When he woke, Billy found himself in the infirmary, alone save for one person (who was, thankfully, not the nurse). At his bedside, in a chair made higher through the use of various pillows, sat Primera. She gazed at him, her wide dark eyes unblinking, and Billy discovered that he could not look away.
For a moment, all of the thoughts that had been plaguing him crowded around each other in his throat, trying desperately to be voiced. 'I'm a terrible person, Primera. I've killed so many men in what might as well have been cold blood, Primera. I want to go to bed with another man, Primera. I'm not worthy, Primera. Primera, I'm sorry.' But no matter what they did, none of the thoughts came out. All Billy did was stare into his sister's eyes.
Finally, some words did make it past the lump in his throat. "I've failed you. I couldn't be the person you needed me to be, and I regret it with my entire being."
Primera's eyes narrowed, and she reached out to grasp Billy's hand. Once she was certain she had her brother's attention ('As if there's ever been a time when she doesn't,' Billy mused), she shook her head.
"Prim..." He sighed. "Prim, there are things you don't know about, things that you should hate me for. I..."
The look in Primera's eyes brought him up short, his mouth still trying to form the rest of the sentence while his voice refused to work.
When one does not speak, the only logical recourse is to listen instead. Billy had forgotten that.
The look in Primera's eyes told him that she knew everything. She had known all along, and yet she was still here because he was her brother, whom she loved. The only way she would leave his side was by death, and, even then, he would probably need a priest to make sure she'd left for good. She loved him just as much as she loved her father, and the reason she hadn't spoken to him was because she'd been certain that Billy already knew how much she loved him.
He saw a trace of disappointment there, too. She'd expected him to realize that their father needed the reassurance of her voice, that her love for Billy didn't need such reassurance.
Billy sat up and brought her hand to his heart. "I'm sorry, Prim. I... I should have known. I should have trusted you more. Can you forgive me?"
When she smiled at him, her face just lit up, and it was like the sun had finally started shining in his life again. She let slip a soft little giggle, then reached into her pocket with her free hand. From it, she produced a piece of paper, neatly folded into quarters, which she carefully set in Billy's lap.
"What is this?" he asked, chuckling despite himself. She nodded at him and motioned for him to unfold it.
Just as carefully as Primera had set it down, Billy picked up the paper and unfolded it. Inside was a crude crayon drawing, more beautiful than any other drawing by virtue of the hand which had made it. It was the orphanage, complete with windmill, in front of which stood a stick figure Billy hugging a stick figure Primera. She'd even gone to the trouble of labelling them in blocky letters.
Again despite himself, Billy smiled.
Upon further inspection, two other stick figures hid slyly in the background, not labelled at all, but easily recognizable. The first, a red kerchief tied around its neck, made his heart lurch a little, even after his realization about Primera's love. Still, he understood what he suspected she was getting at: she loved Billy, but she still loved their father and wanted them all to live together again.
The second one, though, puzzled him. From the eyepatch and the long yellow hair, it was obvious that the figure was meant to be Bart. He knew that the picture was meant to make a point, but Bart's presence simply baffled him.
Still, he flashed Primera a grin as he folded the picture again. "I think I understand. Thank you."
Again, she favored him with a smile that was like sunshine before hopping off her perch and scampering toward the door. When it opened, she slipped out and the dreaded resident nurse stepped back in.
"Oh, you're awake!" The nurse smiled warmly, quickly hiding a syringe behind her back. "Are you feeling very ill? Could you possibly be having acute appendicitis?" She positively beamed at the thought, and Billy could feel a nervous tic developing under his left eye.
"Er, no, I think I'm all right," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "It was just a hangover, that's all. I, er, think I'll be leaving now." Before the nurse could respond (and possibly menace him with that syringe), Billy dashed for the door and made a quick escape.
Without thinking, Billy had made his way toward the quarters which had been designated as his. Despite his claims of being just fine, Billy Lee Black was, in fact, a very tired young man. With most of his mind put at ease by Primera, his thoughts now centered around the possibility of a shower and a bed where he needn't worry about disturbingly over-enthusiastic medical professionals.
When he touched the panel which opened the door, he felt his stomach twist into knots. Only now did he remember what had happened, and he dreaded seeing the remains of his religion scattered on the floor. But it was too late; the door was already sliding open.
The sight that greeted him startled him even more than the mess that he'd left would have. The room was clean save for a few scraps of paper in the corners, the bed and bedding had been replaced, and childish drawings (all obviously Primera's handiwork) of all shapes and sizes hung where the Ethos icons had once been.
The most surprising sight of all, however, was the blond pirate sprawled shamelessly on Billy's new matress, snoring ever so slightly.
His concience stirred a little. 'Leave before you do something you'll regret,' it said. 'Is this really how you want to act knowing that Prim looks up to you?'
However, a new voice (Primera's voice) chided, 'It doesn't matter if you're defying a false god or if you think Prim might think less of you for it. What matters is that you know that she'll always love you and won't ever think less of you, and you know that the god is false.'
He thought of the crudely drawn pirate stick figure. Whether it was because Bart had talked to her about it or because she was just that perceptive, Primera already knew that there was something between Billy and Bart, no matter how small it might be. 'I do know that she wouldn't think less of me,' he thought. 'But... would I think less of myself?'
When the answer came back a resounding, "Maybe," Billy heaved a sigh. Careful to make as little sound as he could, he walked to the bed and prodded Bart until the pirate rolled over in his sleep. Billy sat on the edge of the bed, removed his shoes, and stretched out next to his... 'What? Friend? Boyfriend?'
Grumpily, he swatted the thought away. 'I don't know. But I'll think about it tomorrow.' And for the second time in as many days, Billy Lee Black fell asleep sharing a bed with Bartholomew Fatima.
TBC
I finally realized what an interesting character Primera could be. If I abused her, I apologize, but she's such a good tool for getting certain points across. XD; Again, another short-ish chapter because I got the main things I wanted to say all said and trying to lengthen it just made it feel cheap.
Anyway, constructive crits still welcom. :D
No Rest for the Wicked
Part Three
When he woke, Billy found himself in the infirmary, alone save for one person (who was, thankfully, not the nurse). At his bedside, in a chair made higher through the use of various pillows, sat Primera. She gazed at him, her wide dark eyes unblinking, and Billy discovered that he could not look away.
For a moment, all of the thoughts that had been plaguing him crowded around each other in his throat, trying desperately to be voiced. 'I'm a terrible person, Primera. I've killed so many men in what might as well have been cold blood, Primera. I want to go to bed with another man, Primera. I'm not worthy, Primera. Primera, I'm sorry.' But no matter what they did, none of the thoughts came out. All Billy did was stare into his sister's eyes.
Finally, some words did make it past the lump in his throat. "I've failed you. I couldn't be the person you needed me to be, and I regret it with my entire being."
Primera's eyes narrowed, and she reached out to grasp Billy's hand. Once she was certain she had her brother's attention ('As if there's ever been a time when she doesn't,' Billy mused), she shook her head.
"Prim..." He sighed. "Prim, there are things you don't know about, things that you should hate me for. I..."
The look in Primera's eyes brought him up short, his mouth still trying to form the rest of the sentence while his voice refused to work.
When one does not speak, the only logical recourse is to listen instead. Billy had forgotten that.
The look in Primera's eyes told him that she knew everything. She had known all along, and yet she was still here because he was her brother, whom she loved. The only way she would leave his side was by death, and, even then, he would probably need a priest to make sure she'd left for good. She loved him just as much as she loved her father, and the reason she hadn't spoken to him was because she'd been certain that Billy already knew how much she loved him.
He saw a trace of disappointment there, too. She'd expected him to realize that their father needed the reassurance of her voice, that her love for Billy didn't need such reassurance.
Billy sat up and brought her hand to his heart. "I'm sorry, Prim. I... I should have known. I should have trusted you more. Can you forgive me?"
When she smiled at him, her face just lit up, and it was like the sun had finally started shining in his life again. She let slip a soft little giggle, then reached into her pocket with her free hand. From it, she produced a piece of paper, neatly folded into quarters, which she carefully set in Billy's lap.
"What is this?" he asked, chuckling despite himself. She nodded at him and motioned for him to unfold it.
Just as carefully as Primera had set it down, Billy picked up the paper and unfolded it. Inside was a crude crayon drawing, more beautiful than any other drawing by virtue of the hand which had made it. It was the orphanage, complete with windmill, in front of which stood a stick figure Billy hugging a stick figure Primera. She'd even gone to the trouble of labelling them in blocky letters.
Again despite himself, Billy smiled.
Upon further inspection, two other stick figures hid slyly in the background, not labelled at all, but easily recognizable. The first, a red kerchief tied around its neck, made his heart lurch a little, even after his realization about Primera's love. Still, he understood what he suspected she was getting at: she loved Billy, but she still loved their father and wanted them all to live together again.
The second one, though, puzzled him. From the eyepatch and the long yellow hair, it was obvious that the figure was meant to be Bart. He knew that the picture was meant to make a point, but Bart's presence simply baffled him.
Still, he flashed Primera a grin as he folded the picture again. "I think I understand. Thank you."
Again, she favored him with a smile that was like sunshine before hopping off her perch and scampering toward the door. When it opened, she slipped out and the dreaded resident nurse stepped back in.
"Oh, you're awake!" The nurse smiled warmly, quickly hiding a syringe behind her back. "Are you feeling very ill? Could you possibly be having acute appendicitis?" She positively beamed at the thought, and Billy could feel a nervous tic developing under his left eye.
"Er, no, I think I'm all right," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "It was just a hangover, that's all. I, er, think I'll be leaving now." Before the nurse could respond (and possibly menace him with that syringe), Billy dashed for the door and made a quick escape.
Without thinking, Billy had made his way toward the quarters which had been designated as his. Despite his claims of being just fine, Billy Lee Black was, in fact, a very tired young man. With most of his mind put at ease by Primera, his thoughts now centered around the possibility of a shower and a bed where he needn't worry about disturbingly over-enthusiastic medical professionals.
When he touched the panel which opened the door, he felt his stomach twist into knots. Only now did he remember what had happened, and he dreaded seeing the remains of his religion scattered on the floor. But it was too late; the door was already sliding open.
The sight that greeted him startled him even more than the mess that he'd left would have. The room was clean save for a few scraps of paper in the corners, the bed and bedding had been replaced, and childish drawings (all obviously Primera's handiwork) of all shapes and sizes hung where the Ethos icons had once been.
The most surprising sight of all, however, was the blond pirate sprawled shamelessly on Billy's new matress, snoring ever so slightly.
His concience stirred a little. 'Leave before you do something you'll regret,' it said. 'Is this really how you want to act knowing that Prim looks up to you?'
However, a new voice (Primera's voice) chided, 'It doesn't matter if you're defying a false god or if you think Prim might think less of you for it. What matters is that you know that she'll always love you and won't ever think less of you, and you know that the god is false.'
He thought of the crudely drawn pirate stick figure. Whether it was because Bart had talked to her about it or because she was just that perceptive, Primera already knew that there was something between Billy and Bart, no matter how small it might be. 'I do know that she wouldn't think less of me,' he thought. 'But... would I think less of myself?'
When the answer came back a resounding, "Maybe," Billy heaved a sigh. Careful to make as little sound as he could, he walked to the bed and prodded Bart until the pirate rolled over in his sleep. Billy sat on the edge of the bed, removed his shoes, and stretched out next to his... 'What? Friend? Boyfriend?'
Grumpily, he swatted the thought away. 'I don't know. But I'll think about it tomorrow.' And for the second time in as many days, Billy Lee Black fell asleep sharing a bed with Bartholomew Fatima.
TBC