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timepiececlockTitle: "I Turn the Engine, But the Engine Doesn't Turn"
Drabbles: #1-4
Word Count: 1,600
Fandom: Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, minor crossover with Highlander: The Series
Timeline: six years after Act III
Characters: Penny, Billy
Author's Notes: I posted some of this a few weeks ago, but this is the polished version, with more than just lines of dialogue.
Soundtrack: "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers
This is my Billy>>Penny song in my head. It's sadder than I remember from high school.
Summary: After six years, in a different city with different lives, she stands on his doorstep.
So long ago, I don't remember when
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees
1
Penny looked at the unadorned green door, took a deep breath, and knocked on it.
After a brief period, a blond man opened it. He looked older, around the eyes, but she'd never been sure quite how old he was, before. She knew she looked the same. She smiled. He slammed the door in her face.
Thirty seconds later he opened it again, and the business end of two shiny, strange looking guns were pointed at Penny. He twitched one, which was larger and had blue knobs on it.
"This sprays a combination of garlic, blessed water, and citrus, followed by an accelerant. The p.h. level is off the charts, so don't move if you don't want to burn!"
"Billy," Penny began, and leaned forward.
"AahaaAAh! Back!" He pushed them both into Penny's face until she stepped backward again. "Back!"
"I'm not a vampi--"
"Well this one is for poltergeists!" He brandished the second, which was as shiny as the first but tinted with a strange orange hue.
"I'm not a--"
"And zombies!"
"Billy!"
Penny had never shouted at him before. To both their surprise, the man's hands stopped shaking.
"Put down the guns. I'm not the undead here to eat your brains."
He didn't put them down. "You're dead."
"I got over it," she replied. "It's really confusing, and very personal, and I don't want to talk about it on your doorstep."
"Oh. Um, right." Billy tossed guns into the corner behind the door. "Course. Sorry. Come in. Sorry."
2
Penny was barely inside when Billy disappeared again, this time into the kitchen. He came back with a cup of water that he held out with a hand that only shook a little.
"I thought you might be thirsty," he explained. His eyes skittered around her head to the wall behind. Penny carefully took the cup and sipped it.
"Thank you." He seemed to be waiting for something. "This is...holy water?" He almost met her eyes, but dodged again at the last second.
"I have to be careful who I let in," Billy said, leaving the question hanging. Penny decided that she would just assume it was holy water, because that was the safest, and kindest, thought. Ducking his head, Billy motioned her to follow him into the living room.
Penny stopped when he stopped, shuffled her feet, and tried to smile when he half-turned and, finally, met her gaze. "Hi," she whispered. Billy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it two more times, and then, with a move so fast Penny swore she heard the sound of air filling where he used to be, she found herself wrapped in long, thin arms. He pressed his face into her neck, and she felt him weeping into her skin.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't want it. I'm sorry."
"Billy, hey, it's alright now," she murmured. "Billy, it's okay. Why are you apologizing?"
"I'm sorry because I killed you. I'm sorry."
"Oh," said Penny, and hugged him a little closer.
3
A hour passed, and Billy was calmer once he had his grip wrapped around a coffee mug of black tea. He took a lot of sugar in his tea, a lot, but Penny refrained from commenting because anything that grounded him for this encounter wasn't to be taken for granted. She knew showing up on his door would shock him, and she'd been warned repeatedly, even violently, that the consequences of meeting with people from her old life would come back to bite her later. But Penny hadn't realized, until he clutched her, quite how much of her death Billy--or Doctor Horrible--had been carrying.
They sat, now, on opposite ends of his couch, and she tried to pry open the clenched fist of his recent history.
"I saw on the news that Bad Horse was murdered."
"That was four years ago," said Billy, sipping. His cup never dropped more than a few inches from his mouth, like a shield. She wondered if he missed the goggles and tried to compensate with other things in their absence.
"Were you still..."
The reply was limp, flat, brutal: "I did it."
"Oh." The tabloids hadn't mentioned Bad Horse's killer, only that ELE members were suspected of conspiracy, that it was an inside job, and that in the months leading up to the murder and the weeks immediately after, several prominent villains had dropped off the public radar. Some reappeared in other cities. Others, like, Doctor Horrible, were never seen again. It had taken Penny more than a year just to hunt him down. Doctor Horrible, her murderer--and Billy, her friend.
"What happened?" she asked, trying to be gentle with her words. He'd always been skittish, but now Penny wondered if he'd vanish if she spoke too loudly or moved too fast. Billy answered with equal carefulness. His fingers slid along the mug, passing across the painted logo of some bio-genetics company over, and over, and over again.
"He kicked my friend in the head. Moist. Not for messing up or talking back, just because he was sweating on Bad Horse's carpet. His face was completely caved in."
"I'm sorry," and she meant it.
"Don't say that." Billy's tone didn't change, but his fingers on the mug became more aggressive, making smaller passes. "He helped me do everything evil that I did in the league. You wouldn't have liked what he stood for. You didn't know him."
"I'm still sorry." Biting on one side of his lip, he searched her eyes and, seeing something that satisfied him, nodded. Penny felt like she had passed some kind of test, and didn't like the feeling at all, but she pushed it aside when he began speaking again.
"I was standing next to Bad Horse when he did it. I'd been carrying a gun for three months, since the Gelf Pixies tried to have me assassinated, after... after the business with Professor Normal." He took another sip of tea. Penny's cup, by now, had grown cold. "I didn't even think about it. I saw Moist's face crumble in, and I took my gun out of my lab coat, and I shot 'the thoroughbred of sin'."
"Ah," she said, because there was really nothing else to say. A lecture on nonviolence? A compliment on defeating the most notorious villain in Southern California? Penny knew he'd never accept the latter, and she'd changed far too much to deliver the former with any kind of honesty.
"It was terrible," he continued. "Moist died instantly, Bad Horse didn't. He shrieked, and there was a lot of purple fire. Eventually he stopped."
"What did you do?"
Billy sunk into the couch, and picked at fuzz on the arm cushion. "I told the rest of the League that I was going underground and if they tried to follow me or hunt me, I'd kill them. Then I left. I don't know what happened after that; I guess Fury Leika took over. Probably. We'd lost half our number in just six months, and Bad Horse's death was the last straw to keep me there. With me gone, Bad Horse and Professor Normal and Snakebite dead, well, Leika never had a problem marshaling people. Willing or not."
"I read," Penny said, setting her mug on the little table next to her end of the couch, "last year, in the newspaper, that she left the country after stealing a giant crystal, or something, from the Smithsonian."
The ex-villain in front of her let out a sound, almost a snort, but didn't offer an opinion.
4
After some coaxing, Billy agreed to show her his workspace. He seemed unable to decide between shoving his hands so deep into his pockets that he could mine for ore in them, and dragging those same hands out to point at the devices and tools littering his work tables. He'd relaxed enough to bring her down here; it didn't mean he was comfortable.
"Why did you create a vampire gun?" asked Penny. "And a poltergeist zombie gun?"
"Why do you think?" Billy answered, giving her a skewed look from the peripherals of his vision. He was facing a spread of cables, cords, and batteries. "To shoot the vampires. Anyway, I'm an inventor. I'm not meant to take over the world, I invent things. I have a PhD in..."
His voice, which began the sentence confidently, had dropped off again. He did that a lot around her now, but Penny was gradually coming to the decision that she didn't want to see him do it anymore. She would press, and press, until he realized he wasn't talking to an apparition.
"In what?"
"In particle physics," he finished lamely.
"That sounds..." Penny, who had gotten her A.A. in history before losing interest in college life, barely caught herself from saying it sounded horrible. "...heavy," she settled on.
"I have a Bachelor's in the occult, too, but I always wished I'd spent that one on psychology instead. Not that it matters now."
"So what do you do?"
"I invent things, then I sell my inventions to undisclosed parties for heaps of money." Penny couldn't help herself; her eyes tracked the modest, second-hand interior of the house before settling back on Billy guiltily. She'd always been told she was too nosy about people's things.
"Investments, and stuff," he offered. She took the escape.
"Oh. Sure."
"Most of my investments lately have gone to the future," elaborated Billy. "There's a kid in Iowa, John, who grows up to lead the world in a devastating revolution. I'm his silent benefactor."
"That's... very Dickens..."
Billy nodded, and let out a little sigh. "A couple years ago he was prophesied to be president, but something happened and now he's supposed to lead a revolution instead."
Penny flexed her wrists, and stretched them until they popped, a nervous habit she'd developed since her first death. She tried to smile at him.
"Put the power in different hands."
"Yeah."
I haven't decided yet what Penny is up to. Except that she totally has a sword now (she's in the Game), and she probably still does philanthropy.
P.S. There's a third, even more minor crossover in there.
Drabbles: #1-4
Word Count: 1,600
Fandom: Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, minor crossover with Highlander: The Series
Timeline: six years after Act III
Characters: Penny, Billy
Author's Notes: I posted some of this a few weeks ago, but this is the polished version, with more than just lines of dialogue.
Soundtrack: "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers
This is my Billy>>Penny song in my head. It's sadder than I remember from high school.
Summary: After six years, in a different city with different lives, she stands on his doorstep.
So long ago, I don't remember when
That's when they say I lost my only friend
Well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease
As I listened through the cemetery trees
***
I Turn the Engine, But the Engine Doesn't Turn
***
I Turn the Engine, But the Engine Doesn't Turn
***
1
Penny looked at the unadorned green door, took a deep breath, and knocked on it.
After a brief period, a blond man opened it. He looked older, around the eyes, but she'd never been sure quite how old he was, before. She knew she looked the same. She smiled. He slammed the door in her face.
Thirty seconds later he opened it again, and the business end of two shiny, strange looking guns were pointed at Penny. He twitched one, which was larger and had blue knobs on it.
"This sprays a combination of garlic, blessed water, and citrus, followed by an accelerant. The p.h. level is off the charts, so don't move if you don't want to burn!"
"Billy," Penny began, and leaned forward.
"AahaaAAh! Back!" He pushed them both into Penny's face until she stepped backward again. "Back!"
"I'm not a vampi--"
"Well this one is for poltergeists!" He brandished the second, which was as shiny as the first but tinted with a strange orange hue.
"I'm not a--"
"And zombies!"
"Billy!"
Penny had never shouted at him before. To both their surprise, the man's hands stopped shaking.
"Put down the guns. I'm not the undead here to eat your brains."
He didn't put them down. "You're dead."
"I got over it," she replied. "It's really confusing, and very personal, and I don't want to talk about it on your doorstep."
"Oh. Um, right." Billy tossed guns into the corner behind the door. "Course. Sorry. Come in. Sorry."
***
2
Penny was barely inside when Billy disappeared again, this time into the kitchen. He came back with a cup of water that he held out with a hand that only shook a little.
"I thought you might be thirsty," he explained. His eyes skittered around her head to the wall behind. Penny carefully took the cup and sipped it.
"Thank you." He seemed to be waiting for something. "This is...holy water?" He almost met her eyes, but dodged again at the last second.
"I have to be careful who I let in," Billy said, leaving the question hanging. Penny decided that she would just assume it was holy water, because that was the safest, and kindest, thought. Ducking his head, Billy motioned her to follow him into the living room.
Penny stopped when he stopped, shuffled her feet, and tried to smile when he half-turned and, finally, met her gaze. "Hi," she whispered. Billy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it two more times, and then, with a move so fast Penny swore she heard the sound of air filling where he used to be, she found herself wrapped in long, thin arms. He pressed his face into her neck, and she felt him weeping into her skin.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't want it. I'm sorry."
"Billy, hey, it's alright now," she murmured. "Billy, it's okay. Why are you apologizing?"
"I'm sorry because I killed you. I'm sorry."
"Oh," said Penny, and hugged him a little closer.
***
3
A hour passed, and Billy was calmer once he had his grip wrapped around a coffee mug of black tea. He took a lot of sugar in his tea, a lot, but Penny refrained from commenting because anything that grounded him for this encounter wasn't to be taken for granted. She knew showing up on his door would shock him, and she'd been warned repeatedly, even violently, that the consequences of meeting with people from her old life would come back to bite her later. But Penny hadn't realized, until he clutched her, quite how much of her death Billy--or Doctor Horrible--had been carrying.
They sat, now, on opposite ends of his couch, and she tried to pry open the clenched fist of his recent history.
"I saw on the news that Bad Horse was murdered."
"That was four years ago," said Billy, sipping. His cup never dropped more than a few inches from his mouth, like a shield. She wondered if he missed the goggles and tried to compensate with other things in their absence.
"Were you still..."
The reply was limp, flat, brutal: "I did it."
"Oh." The tabloids hadn't mentioned Bad Horse's killer, only that ELE members were suspected of conspiracy, that it was an inside job, and that in the months leading up to the murder and the weeks immediately after, several prominent villains had dropped off the public radar. Some reappeared in other cities. Others, like, Doctor Horrible, were never seen again. It had taken Penny more than a year just to hunt him down. Doctor Horrible, her murderer--and Billy, her friend.
"What happened?" she asked, trying to be gentle with her words. He'd always been skittish, but now Penny wondered if he'd vanish if she spoke too loudly or moved too fast. Billy answered with equal carefulness. His fingers slid along the mug, passing across the painted logo of some bio-genetics company over, and over, and over again.
"He kicked my friend in the head. Moist. Not for messing up or talking back, just because he was sweating on Bad Horse's carpet. His face was completely caved in."
"I'm sorry," and she meant it.
"Don't say that." Billy's tone didn't change, but his fingers on the mug became more aggressive, making smaller passes. "He helped me do everything evil that I did in the league. You wouldn't have liked what he stood for. You didn't know him."
"I'm still sorry." Biting on one side of his lip, he searched her eyes and, seeing something that satisfied him, nodded. Penny felt like she had passed some kind of test, and didn't like the feeling at all, but she pushed it aside when he began speaking again.
"I was standing next to Bad Horse when he did it. I'd been carrying a gun for three months, since the Gelf Pixies tried to have me assassinated, after... after the business with Professor Normal." He took another sip of tea. Penny's cup, by now, had grown cold. "I didn't even think about it. I saw Moist's face crumble in, and I took my gun out of my lab coat, and I shot 'the thoroughbred of sin'."
"Ah," she said, because there was really nothing else to say. A lecture on nonviolence? A compliment on defeating the most notorious villain in Southern California? Penny knew he'd never accept the latter, and she'd changed far too much to deliver the former with any kind of honesty.
"It was terrible," he continued. "Moist died instantly, Bad Horse didn't. He shrieked, and there was a lot of purple fire. Eventually he stopped."
"What did you do?"
Billy sunk into the couch, and picked at fuzz on the arm cushion. "I told the rest of the League that I was going underground and if they tried to follow me or hunt me, I'd kill them. Then I left. I don't know what happened after that; I guess Fury Leika took over. Probably. We'd lost half our number in just six months, and Bad Horse's death was the last straw to keep me there. With me gone, Bad Horse and Professor Normal and Snakebite dead, well, Leika never had a problem marshaling people. Willing or not."
"I read," Penny said, setting her mug on the little table next to her end of the couch, "last year, in the newspaper, that she left the country after stealing a giant crystal, or something, from the Smithsonian."
The ex-villain in front of her let out a sound, almost a snort, but didn't offer an opinion.
***
4
After some coaxing, Billy agreed to show her his workspace. He seemed unable to decide between shoving his hands so deep into his pockets that he could mine for ore in them, and dragging those same hands out to point at the devices and tools littering his work tables. He'd relaxed enough to bring her down here; it didn't mean he was comfortable.
"Why did you create a vampire gun?" asked Penny. "And a poltergeist zombie gun?"
"Why do you think?" Billy answered, giving her a skewed look from the peripherals of his vision. He was facing a spread of cables, cords, and batteries. "To shoot the vampires. Anyway, I'm an inventor. I'm not meant to take over the world, I invent things. I have a PhD in..."
His voice, which began the sentence confidently, had dropped off again. He did that a lot around her now, but Penny was gradually coming to the decision that she didn't want to see him do it anymore. She would press, and press, until he realized he wasn't talking to an apparition.
"In what?"
"In particle physics," he finished lamely.
"That sounds..." Penny, who had gotten her A.A. in history before losing interest in college life, barely caught herself from saying it sounded horrible. "...heavy," she settled on.
"I have a Bachelor's in the occult, too, but I always wished I'd spent that one on psychology instead. Not that it matters now."
"So what do you do?"
"I invent things, then I sell my inventions to undisclosed parties for heaps of money." Penny couldn't help herself; her eyes tracked the modest, second-hand interior of the house before settling back on Billy guiltily. She'd always been told she was too nosy about people's things.
"Investments, and stuff," he offered. She took the escape.
"Oh. Sure."
"Most of my investments lately have gone to the future," elaborated Billy. "There's a kid in Iowa, John, who grows up to lead the world in a devastating revolution. I'm his silent benefactor."
"That's... very Dickens..."
Billy nodded, and let out a little sigh. "A couple years ago he was prophesied to be president, but something happened and now he's supposed to lead a revolution instead."
Penny flexed her wrists, and stretched them until they popped, a nervous habit she'd developed since her first death. She tried to smile at him.
"Put the power in different hands."
"Yeah."
***
I haven't decided yet what Penny is up to. Except that she totally has a sword now (she's in the Game), and she probably still does philanthropy.
P.S. There's a third, even more minor crossover in there.
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-18 03:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-18 04:03 am (UTC)When I came back to this page to respond to your comment, I got confused by Penny having her A.A. I thought, for some reason, that this was one of your BBT fics. And now I'm getting an idea for a fic with both Pennys.