iselldrugstothecommunity | But Time Takes Time, You Know [Musebox]

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But Time Takes Time, You Know [Musebox]

It's hard to research things that haven't happened yet, Howard discovers. Rather than hitting the library, like he would have on Stacy, he has to spend a lot of time thinking, sitting around talking to Barbara about every detail he remembers of his family history. Every year that passes by, the memories get a little more obscure, a little less refined, and he starts to panic, thinking that he won't have enough information to track down his family at all soon.

Over endless cups of tea, Barbara asks questions ("do you remember your mother's maiden name? do you know where your father's parents were from before they came to California? do you remember what their professions were?") to try and drag out the useful information, but it ends up being a stray memory of a Christmas dinner that puts the pieces in place.

"My grandma has to be in San Francisco. They had a one year wedding anniversary ornament on the Christmas tree of the Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm pretty sure they got married in 1969."

What they were doing in San Francisco is beyond his knowledge, but it's the closest they have to a shot. He doesn't know what hospitals his parents were born in, or where his paternal grandparents might be now, or even what year his parents are going to meet. It takes a lot of agonizing before he decides to spend all that money he's been saving in a can under the sink on plane tickets for him and Barbara to go there, but when he invites her she agrees that it's important to him, and besides, how often does one get to vacation in America?

So they both have suitcases packed and a promise to be back in ten days, waiting for Ian in the kitchen to come drive them to the airport. Howard's nervous, naturally, because he's not sure how he'll introduce himself to total strangers as their grandkid from the future. But he's come to relax a bit - a bit - over the last few years, and as such he just chews his lip and bounces his leg a bit rather than panics. He even got six hours of sleep last night. It's truly a miracle.

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Howard's asleep fairly quickly - it's true he hasn't had much rest since getting here. But before he does, he gets out of the bed and gives Barbara's hand a squeeze, telling her an honest and genuine "thanks for being there for me today".

Then he's neck-deep in a fitful sleep, one hand occasionally searching around the pillow near his head for his cats.

Barbara was up for a little bit longer. She watched television until she grew bored, then read a book. By the time she fell asleep, the electronic clock was showing 9:30pm.

When she woke, the first thing Barbara noticed was just how empty Howard's bed was. She listened for any sounds in the room to indicate where he might be.

Howard tries his best to sneak back in. This is not easy, because he is a little bit tipsy right now. Or a lot bit. He normally doesn't drink, and unfortunately this doesn't lead for very high alcohol tolerance. A few hours out in the Castro proved to be excitement enough for one night, and after the other young man buying him drinks got a little pushy, he decided to leave rather than risk anything going further.

It's still dark outside so he figures he's in the clear. He slips the key into the lock for the hotel room and struggles with it for a moment before getting it open - and finding Barbara awake.

Oops.

It took Barbara a little while to work out why Howard was swaying and having difficulty with the door. She turned on the lamp between the two beds.

"Howard, where have you been?" she asked and scratched her head where the bedhair was at its worst. "It's 5am."

"Nowhere." Maybe if he stays to single-word answers he won't slur too badly. "Out."

He closes the door behind him but decides not to walk over to the bed - he thinks he might have to use the wall to get there without stumbling, and that would surely be a giveaway. He doesn't even know Barbara's already put it together.

She sighed. "Howard lie down before you lose your balance and crack your skull open on something."

Barbara got up from her own bed, pushing the covers aside. She can see how flushed he was looking, and the perspiration on his brow. Although Ian had never come home in such a way, she wasn't unfamiliar with the looks of a drunk man.

"Come on, Howard. You need some rest," Barbara said and held out her arm for him to take.

"I'm fine," he insists, but takes her arm anyway and gets over to the bed, and doesn't really let go of her. "Just sleepy."

Which is a lie, because he actually doesn't feel like sleeping at all right now. He feels restless and guilty and there's a rising feeling of dread in him.

"God, I'm so stupid." He's going to be hungover when he next sees Rose and Hal. The idea chills him.

She could have told him that he wasn't fine, that he was drunk, but she kept that to himself. Howard seemed to be aware of what he had done, and if he wasn't, he would be very soon. No lecture would ever compare to a hang over.

"Lie down," Barbara told him. She moved the bin closer just in case he was going to vomit. He didn't like that queasy, but it was always a possibility.

Barbara left him on the bed to wet the face cloth in their bathroom. She returned to press it against his head gently. If nothing else it would clean up the sweat on his face a little.

After another moment she let him lie there alone while she fetched the kettle. Once it was filled with cold water from the tap, she brought it over with a glass.

"Hangovers are caused by dehydration brought on by the alcohol. I want you to drink a few glasses of water. It will help you a little once the alcohol has worn off."

He lies on his side, not because he feels sick but because back in the day he chastised Orc often enough about not laying on his back when drunk. He gets up on his elbow to drink some of the water she brought him.

"I wasn't planning on drinking, I swear, I just was going to check it out and come home, but there was this guy there and he said I had a nice face even though I'm missing teeth and my nose is all crooked and he kept buying me drinks and you know what it's like when people put stuff to drink right in front of me..."

He hiccups and drinks a little more water. In his drunken rambling he didn't bother to hide pronouns, and he doesn't even notice. He strokes his fingers over the wet cloth, looking over her face as if trying to confirm that she isn't angry at him. He'll feel terrible knowing he disappointed her.

Barbara just held Howard's hand and watched, and listened. It was a little curious to think that he was being picked up by a man at a pub, but she'd question him about it later. For now she was more concerned about getting him into a better state of mind for meeting with Hal and Rose again.

"Howard, it doesn't matter. Just try and rest for the moment."

"It does matter. I'm, mm, I'm trashed right now." He lays back down. They still have seven hours or so before they have to meet with Rose and Hal. Hopefully he can sober up some by then. "This is why I don't drink. I get all emotional."

And he really isn't the sort of person who needs to feel emotions more keenly than he already does.

"I want what you and Ian have and I'm never going to get that, and then tonight there was like forty minutes where I was like okay, maybe I could someday, but then I was too drunk and I had to get out of there." His voice feels like slush in his mouth.

"We all make mistakes," Barbara told him calmly and used her free hand to rub his back. "And we, unfortunately, can't predict the future. You could have what Ian and I have one day, in your own special way. No one's saying that you can't."

"You should get the Doctor to check up on me in fifty years and see if I should even bother with the rest of my life." He reaches for the water again and succeeds in knocking it off the nightstand. Awesome. Self-pity and drunken clumsiness, what a winning combination.

Barbara's hand is warm and soothing on his back and he wants to just focus on that. He shuts his eyes and tries to visualize her hand like a red shape in the darkness. "And I'm saying I can't. No one's ever going to want me when I'm a mess inside and out."

Who would have anticipated being so anti-social could make him so lonely? "It was nice for like, forty minutes to feel like someone wanted me like that."

Barbara had every intention of making certain that Howard was going to be around for another 50 years. Maybe she should offer him his old bedroom back. Or rather their couch, for it was all he slept on. She wasn't going to suggest it then and there, it wouldn't have been the right time.

"Close your eyes," she told him gently, "and breathe nice and deeply."

"Okay." He trusts her, and while he's taken care of drunks this feeling is mostly foreign to him. So he does, although he hiccups again during it. Trying to sleep would be futile, but focusing on breathing is relaxing, at least. Breathing and her hand on his shoulder.

"Barbara, am I good-looking? Honestly?" He sort of wants her to say 'no', because then he won't feel like he's overlooking something.

Barbara picked the glass up from the ground and refilled it for his hiccups.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're immensely handsome but I'm not looking for someone to date. And I'm extremely biased."

"Thanks," he says quietly, taking the glass more carefully this time. He only opens his eyes long enough to do that, and then closes them again. "And what if you weren't extremely biased?"

He would turn his face to her so she could take a clear look at him in the moment, but he feels sluggish and his head's starting to hurt, so instead he just gives her wrist a squeeze and nuzzles into the pillow more.

"Sleep, Howard." She wanted to distract him because she didn't have any idea what she'd think about him in such a fashion. It simply wasn't in her nature to think about younger people like that.

One hand returned to rubbing his back soothingly, while the other was ready to either take the glass when Howard was done, or to catch it if his hand went limp.

"I'm not good-looking enough for anyone to want to put up with the fact I'm sick," he concludes. "And mean."

The man at the bar had said he had nice eyes. Howard rubs at them now and finishes the water. He lets her take the glass. "I'm sorry about everything, Barbara. I love you."

He rarely, if ever, says that, but such is the word of alcohol. It makes it no less true.

She sighed quietly to herself, remembering a few friends who had fallen into self pity after drinking themselves into oblivion.

"I love you too, Howard, but you really need to rest," Barbara's voice was still calm and gentle. "Close your eyes again, listen to me talk for a while."

Barbara told Howard about the time they'd traveled with the Doctor and landed on a planet that was utterly peaceful. The tranquility was so plentiful, that it could almost be felt like a kind of humidity. She told him about how Ian had acquired a shadow in the form of a small bird. It followed him everywhere. He could barely shower, or eat without the bird being by his side, and wanting to do exactly what he did.

Before they left the planet, the Doctor had to spray pheromones on another bird so that it wouldn't try and get into the TARDIS, or latch itself to the outside during dematerialisation. As much as Ian thought the bird a nuisance, he missed it after they'd gone, and moped around the TARDIS for ages.

"Okay. Sorry, I'm trying." He does as he's told. He can't really follow the story very well because his mind keeps wandering back into its dark drunken cave, but the images - birds and shadows and escaping - are always welcome. The bird makes him think of Zouichi, and it pains him that he so misses his old friend.

Eventually, he gets to sleep, and rests fitfully. Alcohol doesn't tend for deeper sleep.

While Howard slept Barbara tidied. It wasn't his fault that his self-esteem was low, but they'd have to do something about it so that he didn't repeat the experience. She had to admit, however, that it was probably an easier thing to do when someone else was buying the drinks, and that someone was being quite charming.

Once everything was tidy, and she'd showered, they had about 3 hours before they needed to leave. Barbara decided that she'd leave Howard to sleep for an hour longer, then she'd help him get ready. While she waited, she sat in the room's only chair to read her book.

Howard wakes up when the sun starts to shine through the curtains to the room. He groans and buries his face in the pillow. He got a decent amount of sleep last night before slipping out, but it still isn't easy waking up. His mouth is dry and he has a blinding headache.

"Oh, god. So this is why Orc was so violent all the time." He sits up and cradles his head, sending a peripheral squint to make sure Barbara's there. "What time is it?"

Barbara looked at him from over the top of her book - a trashy romance novel. She chose it simply because it didn't matter if she lost it, or left it behind. If it were one of her classics, she's be far more precious about it and probably wouldn't enjoy reading so much.

"Near 9am. We're meeting Hal and Rose in nearly two hours," she said in a tone that wasn't unfriendly, or unkind, but it certainly didn't give way to humour. "You need to shower and make yourself presentable, and you'll need to eat something."

He's not surprised by her lack of good humor this morning, and is almost taken off-guard that she's not being unpleasant to him. He's angry with himself, and while he doesn't remember many of the exact details of coming back to the hotel last night, he's fairly sure it wasn't entertaining for either of them. There's embarrassment and shame written all over his face.

He moves his hands down to cover his mouth and nose, then gets out of bed, grabs some clothing out of his suitcase and heads for the bathroom. "Let's not talk about eating anything right now."

He closes the door behind him and starts the shower, and feels a little better after vomiting while waiting for the water to get warm. The shower and steam help a bit too, and by the time he's dressed he feels less like death warmed over. He makes sure his clothes are all straightened and he looks presentable before coming out.

He squints and sits on the bed opposite Barbara. "You wouldn't happen to have sunglasses, would you?"

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not the schoolmarm look! D8

Take it! TAKE IT! ...what?

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