Death Is Only The Beginning Of Boredom
***DISCLAIMER: The characters depicted in this story do not belong to me.
Whoever said that to die would be a grand adventure had obviously never even come close to death. Allen Francis Doyle had, and while death was a grand adventure of panic, sadness, and lots and lots of pain, being dead – or half-dead, or whatever one was when they were ‘Beyond the Veil’ – was so boring that he could now say that the phrase ‘being bored to death’ was quite fitting.
Only no one living had ever really
experienced such a state.
At least now, after what felt like half a year – time moved strangely in this between place – he had some company, even if that company looked to be on his last legs, sanity-wise. Something – not a vision, though he still had some bit of Sight, whether remnants of his vision powers in life, or just because he was half-dead – told Doyle that his death-mate had done the whole ‘solitary confinement’ thing before. Only worse; instead of boredom, he’d experienced pain.
That would explain why Sirius Black had spent the first three weeks or so of his time in limbo acting as if he was on a vacation. In this limbo place whatever they thought up became real – or at least as real as they were. Sirius had cajoled Doyle into playing all manner of games, and this past week, he’d ‘thought’ up some playing cards, though he hadn’t known many of the traditional games. Doyle had had to teach him those, and he was now downright sick of pinochle, canasta, go fish, old maid, crazy eights, and even poker! Doyle never thought poker could get old, but a full week of it could drive the fiercest card shark to cut off his own fins.
Or something. The longer he stayed dead, or whatever, the more Doyle thought he was losing his mind.
Not that he’d had much of it to begin with. Bloody hell, he’d fallen half in love with a woman who only gave him the time of day to tell him he was late for work.
Doyle sighed, and slouched down in the vinyl beanbag he’d thought up. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but he knew she’d hate its tackiness. “I miss Cordelia,” he mumbled with the tone of someone wishing a loved one were there. One thing you could say about the girl: things were never boring with her around.
Sirius floated over to sit cross-legged in the air next to him. “Blast it, I miss Moony, too,” he said, with the same inflection that Doyle had used.
Doyle knew about Sirius’s friend Remus – or maybe that should be ‘friend,’ but then Doyle was half-Brakken Demon and had never been one to judge alternate lifestyles – but he’d never heard him mention a ‘Moony’ before. He caught a glimpse in Sirius’s mind of what looked like a large brown wolfhound – this ‘Moony’ presumably – and subtly inched away from the pining wizard.
Homosexuality was one thing, but bestiality was an entirely different animal. Pun very much intended.
They were both Beyond the Veil, but sometimes Doyle thought Sirius was beyond the pale. And half-cracked, to boot.