Log; Completed (and really old. Oops.)

[teh-loki.livejournal.com]

When; WAAAAAAAY the hell long ago, when Barty and Loki first arrived
Rating; R for language?
Characters; Bartleby exploded_head and Loki teh_loki
Summary; Bartleby and Loki wake up in the City. Barty has some moments of totally fucking crazy, and so does Loki - in an entirely different ways.
Spoilers for DOGMA, but if you haven't seen it by now, YOU REALLY SHOULD. IT'S HILARIOUS.
We're really only posting this because of hilarity.
Log;

Loki looked around the room, one eyebrow raised high enough to make him look goofier than usual.

Whoa.

It sure as fuck wasn't Wisconsin. But from what he'd gathered from all the propaganda on Earth - and from secondhand knowledge - it wasn't Hell, either. And if it was, it wasn't really worth bitching for a thousand fucking years about. Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten, if he was feeling extensively creative. But probably not more than that.

Seemed kind of....boring. Like maybe it was Purgatory.

Okay.
So it wasn't any fucking better than Wisconsin.

Way to go, Bartleby. Your loophole worked so well.

He remembered some bullshit about his so-called Only Friend Left In The Universe Because God Sucks Balls stabbing him in the side after he'd become human. But, well, he had been really drunk at the time, so maybe he remembered wrong.

But then, this was Bartleby he was talking about.

Fucking Bartleby. He really should hit him right in the fucking teeth the next time he saw him. If he saw him.

He felt...different. Not like he had when he was human. But not like he was when he was an Angel, and trapped in Wisconsin.

So he started walking. There seemed to be something like a Church in the distance. Maybe he'd head over there. Maybe he'd get lucky and find a Mooby's on the way, or something. He could really use to kill a couple people after all this crap...


Around and around and around and WHAT. THE. FUCK?

Bartleby felt worse than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life.

Worse than the time he'd gotten thrown off that train by that fat guy. Worse than he'd felt waking up in Wisconsin the first time.

There wasn't much that compared to having the Almighty open Her mouth and speak you into oblivion.

At least it was all worth it. He'd heard Her voice. Been in Her presence. Felt Her touch one last time.

That didn't stop the horrible pounding feeling in his head. Or the oh-so-very-human hangover feeling.

And what the fuck was he doing laying flat on his back next to a carousel?

Was this the Morning Star's sick idea of a joke? A kiddie ride and a welcome parade in Hell?

Bartleby sat up, and brushed his shirt off.

Shirt.

Shirt?

What had happened to his beautiful, blood-coated armor?

Shirt.

Damnit.

So there he sat. Formerly head honcho of psycho, looking for all the world like a normal, every day confused guy, in front of a carousel.

Things could definitely not get any weirder than this.


I could have sworn that Church was this way. Am I walking in fucking circles, here?

Loki sighed and looked up at the sky, scratching his head. He didn't see it anymore. That was fucking bizarre. And kind of irritating, too, really.

That was when he noticed the noise. It was the first noise he'd heard in aeons that wasn't coming from the mundane world around him. It was inside.

But it wasn't The Voice. It wasn't Him. It was....it was...

Well, what the fuck was it!? It sounded like someone had their damn grandfather clock turned up too loud and had left it buried inside his brain.

He decided to have a nice long talk with The Management as soon as he figured out who that would include.

It didn't take long for him to notice the Carousel. It was kind of right in your face all of a sudden.

Whoa.

He noticed a bunch of people crowded around it. There were also a bunch of people seeming to be in a hurry to get away from it, but it was undeniable. This was some kind of symbol. And the ticking was coming from it. Or at least, it seemed to be.

Ingenius.

Blasphemy at it's finest.

He'd have to find a creative way to get rid of it. Of course, he had none of his previous resources, but he wasn't fucking helpless, here. He still had a brain, and that was Step One.

He stood consdering the Carousel for more than five minutes, head tilted to one side.

And then he saw him. Brown hair, brown eyes, stupid pissed off look on his face.

"BARTLEBY!?" he said, his jaw dropping. "No WAY! Fuckin' no WAY!"


Yes way. Yes fuckin' way.

Unfortunately.

What the fuck was that moron doing here? If this wasn't Hell before, it sure as hell would have pretty much had to have been now.

Loki had never passed through the arch, never been cleansed, still had the blood of the Sinners on his hands.

Sure, they'd probably deserved it, but Loki had just out and out ignored the most important point no matter how many times Bartleby had tried to illustrate it to him. Sometimes Loki needed picture books and simple charts to make things really clear. It had to be borderline painful for people who actually had brains.

Loki'd ignored the fact that he no longer held the Flaming Sword. He'd thrown it down. Cast it down.

He no longer stood for God's Wrath. He wasn't the personification of anything anymore.

Anything but stupid maybe.

And therefore, he was going straight to fucking hell. One way ticket to "I'm a fuckup"-ville.

Oh well.

At least his theories had been confirmed.

Bartleby put one hand on the ground to steady himself as he got to his feet, and let the other angel approach him, arms wide in his "hug-slap" stance. Bartleby could endure it. It wasn't like he hadn't had half an eternity in Wisconsin already. What was one more minute of inanity?

He supposed that in the end, it was nice to see a familiar face, although it really made the whole thing even more surreal.

Between those stupid grinning horses gliding up and down and around and around and that maddening calliope music, he thought his head was going to explode.

Again.

And under less pleasant circumstances than the last time.

"I saw Her," he told Loki.

Not "Hi." Not "How are you." Just the monotone words, pouring out of his mouth like a man in the deepest thralls of shock. It was kind of a downer next to Loki's enthusiasm.

It was still some reeling revelation in Bartleby's mind. Something that held far more importance than where he was, or Loki's presence, or, well, anything really.

The one thing he'd wanted more than anything was Divine Presence. The attention he'd lacked for so long. Even a moment's recognition.

He'd wanted to go home, but that had been enough. Enough to make whatever he was going to face now more than worth it.

For now, anyway.


Loki grinned at his ex best friend, in spite of the thoughts in his head.

Man, I'd like to fuckin' shoot you right about now.

As he drew closer, about to step into the other former Angel's embrace, the smile fell off his face like a greasy Mooby patty sliding off a bun and into the trash where it belonged.

"Oh no. NO. Don't you even start that shit, Bartleby. Don't you even start," he said, apprehension apparent in every aspect of his features.

It was always the same fuckin' thing, wasn't it?

He had to admit that he missed the old days.

Sodom and Gommorrah, where Bartleby had sat in quiet contemplation, silently ridiculing Loki's brilliant sulfur showers. When he hadn't been fuckin' cuckoo.

But no, those days were long gone. And Bartleby had gone the way of Lucifer, talking about crazy shit like War on God.

But now, that tune had changed. Sort of. He was back to his old obsession with the pain they both felt.

But really, could he still feel it now? They weren't Angels anymore. Didn't that mean that Bartleby got his stupid wish? That they had Free Will or whatever the fuck he'd been ranting about after they got chucked uncerimoniously off the train?

God damnit, Bartleby made about zero sense.

Free Will and blah blah blah and Who Cares If Existence Dies as Long As I Get Home.

And now, he couldn't even say anything but, "I saw Her."

Well, fuckin' goodie.

He decided not to mention that he himself had not seen Her, and that it was entirely his Crazy Fucking Friend's fault.


"What?"

The confusion Bartleby felt at his former companion-in-arms was written all over his face. What the hell was that fuckhead's problem? Don't start what shit? Did Loki think he was lying?

He watched the expression on his friend's face change. Watched Loki start to back off, waving his hand in front of his face.

It was true. Loki didn't believe a word of it.

His friend, the one who had stood by him through the exile of Wisconsin was now treating him like he was a raving lunatic.

"I've heard those words before..."

Loki really, honest-to-God thought that Bartleby had lost it.

Bartleby moved forward, grabbing the blond angel's shoulder and gripping it hard, shaking him a bit.

"I'm serious, man. I saw Her! I saw her, she touched me!"

...and I heard her voice...

The emotion was back in his voice; the compelling energy of a devout. Humans got like this when they thought they'd heard God.

Was he nothing more than that now?


Loki managed to get loose and stepped back a few feet, skepticism practically painted on his face. God, three fucking seconds together and he was already on about The Presence!

Sure, he missed it too and all, but they had fallen from fucking Grace. There was no loophole, no matter what bogus crap Azrael had totally convinced Bartleby of. There was only Wisconsin.

Well, now...
Now there was only this. Whatever it was.

Loki noticed, suddenly, that the noise - though he was still sure it was coming from the Carousel - had actually stopped.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at Bartleby, forgetting his stupid what-the-fuck rant for the time being.

He stepped back a few steps, then a few more, then a few more. He was more than ten feet away from the other Angel at that point.

And lo.

The fuckin' ticking started in again. Just slightly. Just barely noticeable.

Somewhere in Loki's brain, a metaphor began to form.

He moved back closer to Bartleby and the noise disappeared altogether again.

Well, that settled it.

The Carousel was obviously a representation. The ticking was meant to represent the lack of God's voice. And standing here with Bartleby, well... Loki couldn't be sure, but it seemed like the noise died when he came near someone he knew. It could be a little different than that, but if he were right - and he had the feeling that he was right - then the connection he had with Bartleby was supposed to represent the connection that humans were supposed to have with Christ - or with God himself. He guessed that it was also related to how people were meant to relate to each other. Good Will Towards Men.

His eyes met Bartleby's, and they sparkled slightly - the old fire. His lopsided grin returned.

Who cared if Bartleby had seen her. This place.... Hell or Purgatory, or anywhere - it wasn't Wisconsin. And maybe it was a fresh start.

They'd have to start planning something.


"Are you fuckin' nuts, man?"

Back and forth and back and forth. Loki looked like he was either gauging distance to come running at Bartleby to attack him, or he was doing some archaic Pagan nutjob dance. He also looked like he was listening for something, and if Loki was hearing things, on top of all his other odd behaviors, Bartleby knew they were in deep shit.

Irregardless, Bartleby decided that maybe there was some merit to whatever his friend was doing. Loki had proven to be psychotic, sure, but not...insane. If he really heard something important enough to make him get a look on his face that even faintly resembled focus, it was worth isolating the different sounds in the area to see what it was that Loki was listening for.

Bartleby stood very still, and listened.

He listened to the different conversations, trying to isolate each individual voice for one he might recognize, to no avail. He listened to the calliope music that never seemed to stop and was actually starting to make him feel as loopy as Loki was acting. He heard footsteps on the ground, and the general movement of people. The swishing of cloth, breathing, living.

And he heard a ticking that kept starting and stopping.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.

Tock.
Tick.

Stop.

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.

Tock.
Tick.

It took him a moment to realize that as Loki danced back and forth, the ticking started and stopped; grew louder and then fainter again. It sounded like a clock, but it also sounded internal.

It was a noise in his head.

And probably in Loki's.

Great.

So they'd gotten away from Wisconsin, but if he didn't stay glued to Loki, he was going to go crazy from a metronome that had somehow gotten lodged in his brain?

Just. Great.


Loki didn't bother actually answering Bartleby. He just sort of raised his eyebrows at him as he saw realization dawning on his former companion's face.

"You hear that?" he asked, pausing dramatically for emphasis. "No! You don't! You know what that stands for, don't you? Man!"

He shook his head, half in disbelief. "I have got to find who built this thing!"

The grin had an edge to it. An edge he'd only really developed after he'd done that whole Fling the Fiery Sword at the Almighty's Feet thing. He'd realized what it was that he liked about his job, and how much he liked doing it. Killing a false God would be pretty sweet right about now.

He grinned at Bartleby. "So either it's some sick Hell joke, or we might have something to actually do instead of stand here and dream about whatever bullshit you think you're talking about."


Oh no. Oh hell no. Loki was getting that look again.

Bartleby shook his head.

"You have got to be kidding me. Are you talking about what I think you're talking about? You are, aren't you? You're talking about your Holy Crusade again. Cleansing. Raining sulfur. Loki, you are not the Wrath anymore. Did you forget?!"

Bartleby backed away a little bit, disbelief etched across his face. This was absolutely ridiculous. The last time that Loki had decided he needed to pull this crap, it had put them on the radar of Heaven and Hell.

All Bartleby had wanted was to go home. To take the loophole that he'd been sent, drop his wings and pass through the arch.

Home sweet home.

Cleansed. Free. Dead wasn't really a problem for him. Humans got eternity, and if he unmade everything in the process, at least they wouldn't get what he'd been denied anymore.

And Loki had ruined it.

And Loki was going to go and fuck shit up again. Bartleby just knew it.

"I'm not the one talking about bullshit, Loki..."

Fuck. At least he was talking truth. Loki was just talking self-righteous crazy.



"What harm can it do!?" Loki said. "I mean, we're already pretty much guaranteed Eternity in Hell, right? But I can pretty much assure you that this.... This is not Hell. And He sure as hell isn't listening to us, right?"

He considered for a minute. He hadn't actually located the source of the Sin. He wasn't just going to randomly kill people. That seemed to be more Bartleby's thing than his. He wanted to kill people for a purpose.

He glared at Bartleby's second comment. "Oh, whatever! There's nothing that comes out of your mouth that isn't either bullshit or God Doesn't Love Me Anymore bullshit, and you know that."

There was absolutely fuckin' no one who could kill a good mood faster than Bartleby.


"What harm can it do?! Yeah, that's what you said the last time. When you decided that slaughtering a board room was more important than going home. Any fuckin' idea you think up can do some harm."

But despite Bartleby's protests, Loki's words didn't completely fall on deaf ears. Bartleby was listening, and it really hurt him to admit that Loki had a valid point.

This wasn't Hell. Couldn't possibly be. Bartleby was almost sure of that. If it was, it wasn't anything like he'd heard. And he'd heard a lot.

And it was also almost guaranteed that She wasn't listening anymore....

"Don't talk to me about bullshit, Loki. I saw Her. She touched me. She is the fuckin' reason I'm here. I'm lucky I exist at all."

Wherever "here" was.

Bartleby paused. He hadn't really stopped to think about that yet. He shouldn't even be. God's voice should have wiped him right out of existence.

"She spoke, Loki. Not fuckin' Metatron. Her. She. The I who is Am. I heard Her voice...

He paused, a small smile on his face. Time to face the revelation. The sickest truth.

"And when I finally got to hear it, in all it's glory..."

His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

"I was human..."

He looked down at his hands in disgust.

Did she only bother with them? Had She only bothered because he wasn't an Angel anymore? Not one of the firstborn, but Her secondary children. The ones She loved; the ones She spared time for...

Surely She had seen his bloody wings; what was left of them. Surely she knew he still was...that he ever was...

Didn't She?
She knew Everything...


Loki crossed his arms and gave Bartleby a look that was somewhere between I Fuckin' Told You So and You Know My Point Is Totally Valid.

"See, that's your thing. You think too much. I can see your fuckin' gears turning. You say that was an issue!? Those people were fuckin' scum! And full of fuckin' Blasphemy! Nothing like the people you killed. At least I have an outlet for my anger, here."

He shook his head in disbelief and uncrossed his arms.

"You know what, fine. Fuckit. I'll take care of it myself, and you can go pray or whatever you think will make Him listen to you again. I'm go get drunk and fuckin' kill people, in that order."


"And you're saying the ones I killed were innocents?!"

Of course they weren't. Not a goddamn single one of them.

Bartleby remembered the blood. He remembered the death and the rage, but not really much else. He honestly didn't know if they were innocents or not. At the time, he just hadn't cared.

Loki started to walk away.

Fine. Let him go. Let the fucker go.

...except that with Loki walking away, the ticking was coming back. And the calliope music never had stopped. And between the two, he just might go crazy and start being indiscriminate again.

Not that he had anything to lose now. He couldn't go home, what point was a clean soul?

Screw it.

At least Loki could probably lie his way into a place for them to crash tonight. They guy was, at the very least, resourceful.

"Hey, Loki..."

Bartleby crossed the growing distance between them with a jog.

"...wait up, man."

He fell into step behind his former comrade.

"I'll come with you. It's not like I have anything better to do, and, well, we can get drunk now..."

Which really sounded like the best idea Bartleby had heard in a very, very long time.