Chapter Text
It had been three years since Penny’s death, he realized as he checked the date on his desktop calendar. He had been filling out forms for his biyearly ELE progress reports (busywork that he detested, but needed for continued membership). His writing hand stilled, coming to rest on his form, smudging the ink where it rested. Strangely, it no longer hurt to think her name, although his heart still lurched when he accidently glanced at her photograph, lying face-down on the table by his chair. He hadn’t touched it since slamming it down on the table two years and six months ago- the same day that he was inducted into the League. Broken glass still peeked from under the frame.
After that day, the day when he’d truly become Dr. Horrible, he’d thrown himself completely into villainy. His work had been a way to keep him occupied, to keep her face from appearing inside his head. That had also been the day that he had stopped sleeping, to stop the reoccurring dreams. He’d gone a week without rest when Moist had gotten him the sleeping pills. That was worse. He hadn’t been able to wake himself from the nightmares, when his body was so completely drugged into slumber.
That Saturday, he’d taken the whole bottle.
He deserved the nightmares. He should have died back there, with her. One piece of shrapnel across his wrists was all it would have taken.
After Moist found him, took him to the hospital, had his stomach had been pumped out, he got a visit from Dr. Normal, who’d given him an herbal sleep aid.
He’d not dreamed since. His sleep was drugged somnolence, nothing more.
He didn’t like to think of the things he’d done that first year to become a full member of the ELE.
Once that first year was over, he had gotten more original, less murderous missions. After that first year, things got better. Most of his missions involved designing weapons for commissions, and strategizing attack plans. He stayed inside his lab for days on end. It was better than the alternative.
By the second anniversary of Penny’s death, he’d stopped thinking of ways to kill himself.
Wednesdays and Saturdays were still difficult for him. Those days, he just didn’t get out of bed.
He realized, as he tried to copy over the form he’d ruined, that he was tired.
Tired of trying to one-up the other members of the ELE with successively more evil crimes. Tired of being evil. Tired of having to wrap broken ribs after heroes threw large, heavy objects at him (seriously, their attacks were so derivative). Tired of having to deal with Captain-effing-Hammer, after his big comeback.
He finished salvaging the form.
He began composing an addendum: a letter to the ELE to inform them that he was leaving the country for a few months, for a well-deserved vacation. They’d have no problem with that- he had gained Platinum standing now, after all.
England was supposed to be nice this time of year. He pulled up bookings for Honey Bed and Breakfast. It was located in a tiny English village that he’d never heard of, which was perfect.
For a few months (and they’d be over much too soon), he could be invisible.
--<>--
Jenny sat back on her heels, and surveyed the now-tidy room. Matilda was coming home from uni for the interterm, back to their house, her old room. Unfortunately, Jenny’d been using the room as a junk –room, stashing laundry she didn’t want to fold, random boxes, and other clutter that would annoy the guests staying at the bed and breakfast. Now the bookshelves (full of books on quantum theory, computer coding, electrical theory and particle physics) were dusted, the floor was neat, and the posters of Einstein, Rosalind Franklin, and Ada Lovelace were all back on the walls. She’d even scrubbed the chalkboard wall-Matilda would need it to work out her findings. Matilda would be home any minute now,
Though she was now headmistress at the primary school, Cambridge was by no means a cheap university, even with Matilda’s research grants. Turning her father’s enormous old house into a bed-and-breakfast was a logical move: she never went into the east wing, where the Trunchbull (she refused to think of her as Agatha, or even Aunt, the woman had lost the right to those titles long ago) had terrorized her throughout her childhood. A complete remodel of the wing was needed in order to meet health and safety laws, and soon she could conduct guests to their rooms without suffering a panic attack- it no longer seemed like the same place.
Jenny closed the door firmly behind her, and headed down the stairs to the front desk, where she checked the incoming guest record. There was only one guest coming in that afternoon; one William Bradley, who had reserved room 3 via their website. Good. That would give her more time to greet Matilda. She went to make sure that room 3 was ready for their newest guest.
--<>--
Billy stood in the middle of the tiny train station, squinting at the tiny map of the village, trying to make it match up with his google maps location. He couldn’t find Honey Bed-and-Breakfast anywhere on the map, which annoyed him. He straightened the google maps printout with an angry snap, ready to try again.
“The map’s all wrong,” said a girl’s voice from behind him. He got a shock at how very British she sounded. He’d forgotten where he was.
“What?”
He turned to see a thin, weedy girl, maybe about sixteen, with a single braid down her back, and sweat-dampened bangs that clung to her forehead. Most of the hair had worked its way out of the braid. An outsize red suitcase stood on the platform behind her.
“I said, the map’s wrong. Hasn’t been updated since the 80s, at least.”
“Well, I need to get to this bed-and-breakfast…” He showed her the address, and she took the google maps printout, surveying it.
“I’m going to be late for check-in,” he blurted, regretting the words as he says them. Jet-lag, undoubtedly, is tampering with his brain-to-mouth filter.
“It’ll be ok,” she said, giving a quick smile. “I know exactly where you need to go.”
“You been here before?” he asked as she steered her huge suitcase out onto the street, and took them down a sidestreet he would have entirely missed.
“I grew up here.”
“You did? What brings you back?”
“It’s the end of term, so I’m coming home to spend the summer with my mother.”
For the first time, he noticed the University of Cambridge hoodie she was wearing, and felt inordinately idiotic.
She turned sharply around the corner, and he had to hurry to keep up.
“Could you slow down?” he asked, panting slightly as the sweat-slick handle of his suitcase rubbed painfully against the fine bones of his wrist. She adjusted her speed slightly, to match his. Spending most of the past two years in his lab hadn’t done much for his stamina.
“We’re almost there,” she said, pointing up the street. “It’s there, at the top of the hill.”
He lifted his head, and saw an imposing white house, bright against the afternoon sun.
“That’s the bed-and-breakfast?”
“That’s it,” she said.
When they reached the front door, she reached out and pressed the buzzer near the doorknob, then waited.
The silence was a thick one, made thicker by the muting layer of humidity that lay over the house and gardens.
“By the way, what’s your name?” he asked, hoping to fill the silence. “I’m Billy.”
“Matilda.” She smirked slightly. “ Matilda Honey.”
“Wait… hang on…” he started. “You’re…”
Matilda smiled wider. Billy thought maybe he should be annoyed that she’d obviously intended to catch him off guard, but her wide smile was too infectious, and he found himself smiling back at her. After all, it seemed like something he might have done himself.
Once.
The door was wrenched open, and a woman peered out. Long strawberry-blonde hair fell in waves to her shoulders, just brushing against her airy white sundress, which tugged around her fragile knees in the slight draft coming through the door. Her face was slightly creased with laugh lines, reminding him suddenly of Penny. The thought did not hurt as it might have before.
“Matilda!” she said in a soft voice, and pulled the door open wider. Billy stood back as Matilda nearly leapt forward to give the woman a hug. The woman had yet to notice Billy. He hated to interrupt, but he hated feeling awkward like this. He cleared his throat slightly.
“Um, ex-excuse me?” Damn. Of all the times to start stammering…
The woman looked up over Matilda’s dark hair. Her eyes were an odd, unfixed color, wavering in the bright light from gray to green.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “William Bradley, I believe? Our newest guest?”
Billy nodded, and was about to amend her words when Matilda jumped in.
“He goes by Billy; we met at the station.”
“That’s right,” he said, unnecessarily.
“You’d best come in,” said the woman, holding the door open for first Matilda, then Billy to yank their suitcases through. She led them out of the sunny atrium, into a computer room. A reception desk sat at the forefront of the room, and the woman sat down before its computer.
“Mr. Bradley, you’ll be in room 3,” she says.
He handed her his credit card. “Please, just Billy,” he said.
“Billy, then.” She runs it through the machine, finally presenting him with a receipt.
“I’m Jennifer Honey, owner of the bed and breakfast, and mother of Matilda, whom you’ve already met. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.”
“I hope so,” he said, trying not to stare too fixedly at her eyes.
“Again, I apologize for the delay. Matilda’s been away at uni, studying physics, and we haven’t seen each other since the winter intercession Matilda, could you-
“Sure.” She left her suitcase, and grabbed his. “Your room’s up the stairs, come on.”
“Hey,” he protested weakly, putting on a burst of speed to catch up with her. “I can carry my own bag…”
She began to bump it up the stairs, and he winced. “You shouldn’t do that, let me…”
The catches sprang open, dumping his things all over the stairs.
“Oh,” she said, grabbing one of his hard-drives before it hit the step. He managed to grab the other, and held out his other hand to grab his laptop, but even before he’d thrust it out, he knew it was a lost cause. He had no hope of catching it- he squinted, waiting for the crash, fixing his eyes on it, as if that could possibly stop the computer from striking the ground. The crash never came. The laptop stayed suspended, gently humming in midair. Cautiously, he reached out and placed his hand below it, and it descended slowly onto his palm. He looked up, and met Matilda’s eyes. She was staring directly at the laptop, and her eyes were red, and almost- were they glowing?
“Matilda?” Jenny was standing at the bottom of the steps. “Are you all right?”
“Yes…yes, we just…the suitcase came open,” she called down.
She started picking up Billy’s clothes, and shoving them into the suitcase. He joined her, glad that he hadn’t brought any of his lab coats or even his goggles- they would have attracted unnecessary attention.
Once they’d finished repacking the bag, Billy took it. Matilda led him to the first door on the landing.
“The key’s in the lock,” she said, turning to go back downstairs. “I’m sorry about the suitcase.”
“It’s fine,” Billy called after her. Unlocking the door, he deposited his suitcase inside the room. It was airy, open, with a large window looking out on the woods beyond. As he stood surveying the room, he heard raised voices through the open door. He peeked through it, across the railing into the atrium. He could only see the tops of their heads.
“Matilda, you’d not told me that it had started again!”
“I can’t help it, I’m sorry!”
“Are you sure that he saw it?”
“I don’t know? Maybe, but he didn’t react to it, if he did.” Matilda began to cry.
Billy wanted to crawl deeper inside himself. But instead, he bumped the door with his shoulder. They both spun to look at him.
“Uh,um…” he stammered. “Do you have…extra towels?” Shut up, Billy. Shut up now.
“Yes,” Jenny said, sounding relieved. She turned, and strode out of the lobby, Matilda close behind her. He closed the door, resting against it.
What new mess had he managed to get himself into now?