Despite how upset he was, Barty had no plans of letting his husband get so close to him so soon. In the few seconds it took Gilderoy to reach him, he played out several million different scenarios in his mind of how he could react to his advance and all that would result from it. He imagined pushing Gilderoy away and accidentally knocking him into the kitchen table or one of the counters. He saw himself storming past him to get to the TARDIS outside with Gilderoy giving chase. He watched as they argued in the kitchen again, their positions reset, but with Rose crying in the middle, then Scott, and then finally the kitchen was empty and the Estate grew dark.
All of it faded away when Gilderoy slipped his arms about Barty’s waist. The familiar warmth and feeling of safety pulled him from his thoughts in time to hear that they had already had this discussion before. They were already past this, they’d forgiven each other, but.. He’d forgotten. He’d been angry and lashed out for nothing! His face fell at the realisation of having another dark hole in his mind and he sagged against Gilderoy’s chest in sad defeat. Of course he would forget something like this. It always had to be something important! No doubt that was also the reason why he couldn’t feel Gilderoy in his head anymore. They hadn’t lost their rapport. It was still very much there. He just didn’t remember it. He kept forgetting it. Every second, every time he thought of it, when he tried to access it.. Was something blocking him? Or was the damage really that bad? Was he getting worse? How could he get worse? His mind whirled with possible answers, none of them pleasant, and the sadness he felt for it poured out into his features. There was no hiding the pain in his eyes or the trembling in his lower lip. He became so consumed in his own thoughts again that he barely registered that Gilderoy was still speaking to him, trying to explain his behaviour that fateful night.
“It’s.. alright. It’s alright, Gilderoy,” he murmured softly as he reached up and gently pulled his hands away from his temples. He didn’t want to watch those memories pass between them and be reminded of what he’d lost. Hearing it was enough. “I’m sorry. Please, just.. just take me to bed. I don’t feel well.”
Right, you've been huffing and puffing all afternoon. If you're mad at me, can you at least tell me what I've done?
Barty scoffed and continued to stare ahead through the kitchen window while he wiped down some newly washed dishware. “What the hell haven’t you done?” he spat. He was horribly tempted to turn around and chuck a plate at Gilderoy’s damned head, but he restrained himself. He didn’t really want to fight. He didn’t, but he was well angry for it. He’d come across some of their old journals while rearranging the library - journals from when they’d first started living on their own without Rose - and made the mistake of reading them. He knew he shouldn’t have. He should have thrown the things into the bloody fire and left the lot of it in the past where it belonged. But he didn’t. He’d sat there and read every last page and now he has having to deal with memories and emotions he’d long forgotten. Or maybe he’d blocked it all out. After having read everything, he understood why he would have done.
With the exception of a few sprinklings of happy family moments, the journals were filled to the brim with nothing but pain and sorrow. Losing Rose had been one of the most difficult things their family had went through. Of course he expected any record of that point in their life to be unpleasant. But what he hadn’t expected - what he’d forgotten - was just how bad things had gone between himself and Gilderoy. The things they did and said to each other had been, well, sickening. It really set it into Barty just how lucky they were to still have each other. Anyone else would have given up. They’d have called it quits and said they weren’t worth it. Hell, they both had tried! But nothing good ever came of them being apart. They could hardly function when they weren’t together. It wasn’t right or healthy in the least. They knew it too, but then they were also so in love with each other that it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Their affections practically bordered on being obsessive. Maybe it was. Maybe they didn’t care about that either.
Barty wished he could say the same about the things he’d read. He wished he didn’t care, that he could go back to not remembering. At least he could say that it wasn’t everything that he’d seen that was upsetting him. It was just one incident. The one that had affected them the most recently, that they could barely bring themselves to talk about because what had happened nearly destroyed their relationship permanently. At the time their marriage had already been on the verge of collapse for having lost Rose. They’d been so desperate to fix things and had hoped that going on holiday would help them do that. It was supposed to help them reconnect and fall in love again, but instead they fought violently and it nearly ended their marriage. This was what Barty found himself hung up on again. He’d never truly forgotten what had happened. How could he? He was reminded of it every day by the silent emptiness he felt in his head from having telepathically shut and locked Gilderoy out.
After a very long pause Barty finally turned his head to look at him. “Found some old writing in the library,” he told him bitterly. “How could you go and talk to John and not me? How was it any different than talking to me? After everything that happened at that stupid, goddamn cabin! I told you the same as he did why you’d hurt me so much! I told you I didn’t read your mind to hurt you, that I would never disrespect you that way. I told you that I was doing what was natural to me and my people, that I thought I already had your permission because my brain was damaged, because it never occurred to me that we wouldn’t talk about something so important!” He paused to take a breath and wiped at the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “And you listened to him! You listened and you tried to understand then, with him, and not me! No, with me you just pushed me over the edge and screamed at me while I drowned in myself, in my fear, and panicked. I wanted to get away, to run from it all and from you and our family. I found myself surrounded by people that would never understand. I was alone again and suffocating and so I said things.. horrible things.. desperate things. You know me better than anyone. Better than I know myself. You’ve always said that.. How could you not see past it to what was really happening? You let your own anger get the better of you and you.. you hit me! You hit me and you didn’t even feel sorry for it! You lied to me! If you had just listened.. How can you expect me to be open with you when the only way you can talk to me is by going to a “version” of me in another universe! I can’t hear you anymore.. You just left me drifting..” Again he took a breath, shaking this time as he sobbed aloud. “I just.. I don’t want it to hurt me anymore.. I need you to come back to me. Here,” he sniffled and rubbed at his forehead as though it were causing him pain.
In the Library, Gilderoy smiled to himself as he bellowed throughout the house for his husband to hear. "BARTY! GOOD NEWS. I'VE DECIDED YOU'RE STUCK WITH ME FOREVER."
Shortly after Gilderoy’s very loud announcement, Barty’s head poked through the doorway. He greeted his husband with a smile. “You said the same thing before you proposed to me, dear. I’m glad you’ve not suddenly changed your mind, but I don’t think the neighbours care to be reminded. Again.”
Every time there is even a small chance that something could go wrong or someone might be in danger, a part of Barty secretly hopes that those bad things will happen. He sorely craves to have the adventure back in his life and he will take it any way he can get it.
"Blast this infernal contraption. I should of just kept my old one..." Mrs.Odd mumbled. "Barty? Barty dear can you hear me? Oh I hate this phone. Have you seen rei around today?"
Barty immediately jolted awake and sat upright at his desk when Mrs. Odd’s voice suddenly came through his phone again. He’d fallen asleep after the first time she tried calling and still had the device right in hand and pressed to his ear. Surprisingly he didn’t lose his grip on it from being startled. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m awake,” he murmured back groggily as he peeled off a sheet of paper that had got stuck to his face. “I’ve not seen Rei around. Is something wrong?”
[text] Come home with the kids. [text] First thing, Chuck's home! [text] Second, Cam's cat Bucket has had five kittens. [text] Do you think maybe it was Benny???
[text] I’m glad Chuck’s home. I take it you’ve already checked in with him? There’s nothing wrong with him is there? Did something happen? Has he said anything? Is he okay? Not that there has to be anything wrong for him to come home but it’s been so long since we’ve seen him and it’s so sudden and you know how I worry so you’d better ask if you haven’t!
[text] Benny’s usually with me during the day, but they’re both in the house at night. Plus there’s the days I’m not at work, so.. so I don’t know. It’s a possibility. Are any of the kittens brown with stripes?
[unsent] Can we keep them? We could hand them out to the kids like the Starks’ direwolves. Except I’ve just realised their number isn’t even with our children so
Barty ran like his life depended on it, ignoring all the little splashes of water that hit him each time his feet touched the wet pavement. He was already soaked to the bone, so what did it matter? The only important thing was for him to get home before he collapsed. Being caught in the rain was bad enough for most people, but for Barty it was downright dangerous. With his superior Time Lord biology it normally wouldn’t have been a problem, but ever since the surgery to have one of his hearts removed, Barty’s tolerance for the cold had dropped far below that of human standards. The rain felt as ice upon his skin - worse even - and the chill it put in him was overloading his system. It had already reached the point of fever, making it impossible for him to focus and safely use his magic. Barty couldn’t apparate home because of it so he’d taken the path on foot instead. He knew that had been the wrong choice. It was always the wrong choice. He’d been in the rain so long now that he couldn’t remember his way. The streets had begun to all look the same. Maybe they were the same. How many times had he passed that woman back there? Or was she in front of him now? He’d forgotten where he was headed.
It dawned on Barty suddenly that he still had his keys. He could find help with those! All he had to do was give someone the keyring with his ID tag. He always kept it on him since his memory was a permanent issue. "Please! Please wait!” He turned back to the woman he’d passed earlier and ran after her while struggling to get the keys from his pockets. He was freezing and upset and so tired that it was difficult to keep his hands steady. “Please, I.. I need..” Barty stammered, sobbing now as he shakily held up his keys and started to sift through them for the ID. He just wanted to go home. If he could just focus, if his body wouldn’t keep failing him like this-- “I need help. Help me.. I can’t.. I have conditions.. The, the rain..” Barty began to fall forward suddenly but he caught himself in time and drew back with a shakier breath. He could feel himself getting weaker, his body getting heavier. It felt as though the ground were pulling at him. He groaned and tried to blink back the darkness that was now invading his already blurry vision. It was no use. The fever was taking him, just as he feared. “Barty,” he said as steadily and as clearly as he could through the tears before thrusting the keys into the woman’s hand. “I’m..” Barty wanted so much to apologise for what was about to happen but the words never passed his lips. His legs gave out on him before he could warn her and he collapsed at her feet.
Barty wrinkled his nose in disgust at the unexpected touch and rubbed furiously at the wet patch now on his cheek. “Rei! That’s really unhygienic. I mean, do you know where I’ve been?” Says the alien who regularly licks things as a means of identification.
