fiction: Lost in Reality - George, Lee (Part 2)

[seedee]

Title: Lost in Reality - Part 2
Characters: George, Lee
Rating: PG-13 for this part
Word Count: ~2800
Summary: Reality is the state or quality of being real. But what is real? And more importantly, what is not real?

Many thanks to tania_sings for the beta work and ridicu_liz for the peas.


Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten

*

gone . one

It was one of the bad days. Lee knew it the moment he entered George's flat. The place reeked of it.

He opened the windows, letting in cool January air, using his wand to blow it into the corners of the room. It wasn't the prominent smell of alcohol that was the worst, and he didn't mind unwashed dishes - they at least meant that George had been eating. It was the staleness that lingered in the air.

Both bottles on the coffee table had the black Ogden's label. They were as empty as the rest of the flat. Lee went down to the shop that had seen no customers since the day Fred and George had gone into hiding. It was dark and dusty, with Wheezes on the shelves that wouldn't work any more because they were too old. Shortly after the battle George had said that it was the shop of a dead man. Back then, Lee had thought George meant Fred; now he wasn't so sure.

He opened the door to the room where the twins had brewed potions, charmed objects and developed products. It was the only room down here that was still used frequently. George was there. He lay still and pale on the violently coloured sofa, looking young and thin, his face for once relaxed and without the creases that it showed most of the time these days.

"What've you done this time?" Lee asked his unconscious friend.

He closed the distance between them and brushed a strand of dirty hair off George's face. There was no reaction. Lee put his hand on George's chest and felt him breathing slowly, felt his heart beat. He wondered how many times he'd have to check if his best friend was still alive before he went insane, but figured he hadn't reached the point yet.

Lee rubbed his own tired eyes. "You stupid fuck. When will you finally-" Realising that he was talking to himself, he broke off mid-sentence and gave himself a mental shove.

There was an empty vial still in George's hand, and the distinct smell of the potion he'd used confirmed what Lee had suspected since he'd come down the stairs. A few green drops were left in the small glass bottle. Lee took it and refilled it with the experimental solution George used to escape into a world that was half memory, half wish, then added a few drops of 'Buddy Binding'. He knew exactly how much he needed of each; he'd done it more than a few times already.

When it was done, he held the vial against the lit tip of his wand to check the colour. Twice Lee had already ended up in a nightmare of blood and monsters instead of in the midst of George's vision. He had no wish to repeat that ever again. It looked like the correct shade of green, though, therefore he sat down on the floor, leaning with his back against the sofa.

"Cheers," he said, took George's hand in his own and downed the hallucinogenic mixture. When the room went dark, and he felt his stomach protest at the dizziness, Lee hoped for the best, concentrating on George, imagining his face and voice, and visualising the friendship that was currently fragile, but still intact.

The dizziness disappeared gradually, and he found himself on a clearing close to the hut. Lee heard George's voice and then spotted him lying in the thick grass not too far away. Fred was there as well. Or was it the memory of Fred? A Fred-shaped fantasy? Lee didn't know.

He went over and sat down. Fred grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "George said you were off on a secret mission."

Lee ignored him. "How long?" he asked George.

He waited for an answer but there was only silence. George lips were pressed together in a thin white line and the tension in his shoulders was obvious.

"Fred, can you get us a couple of ales?" George asked.

Fred frowned and leaned over to exchange a few words with his brother. Lee heard only part of the conversation, and didn't try to catch the rest of it. They seemed to come to an agreement, and Fred got up, starting to walk towards the hut. It wasn't something Fred would have done - not the real one. "Your world, your rules," Lee commented.

"Fuck off," George said. "Why do you do this? Why do you come here?"

Lee shrugged. "Because I can. And because someone has to. How long have you been here?"

"Why do you care? What's it to you?"

"Why I care?" The urge to slap some sense into him was so strong that Lee's fingers twitched. "Can you really look at me and ask me why I care?"

George deflated visibly, but didn't break eye contact. "Just leave me for a bit, yeah? No harm to anyone. People read books or play Quidditch or go fuck someone they don't even know. I hang out with Fred."

"It's harm to you. How long have you been here?"

"I don't know," George said. "Time's different here. You know that."

Lee didn't know what to say and waited for George to do something. But George didn't move and didn't speak. After long minutes of silence that wasn't as comfortable as it used to be, Lee reached over and smacked George lightly on the back of his head. "Let's go back and have a drink. Got to tell you about my latest date."

George snorted. "Don't tell me you hooked up with that loser again."

"He's no loser," Lee said indignantly, even though, in all honesty, he was.

"Where's Fred?" George asked, changing the topic so suddenly that Lee needed a moment to catch on.

"You sent him away."

George got up from the grass and looked toward the hut. "He should be back by now. Where is he?"

"Relax," Lee said and got up as well. "He's not real, remember?" Lee touched George's upper arm to get his attention.

George turned around, pushing Lee back with a hard shove. "I know that. Now where is he?" He didn't wait for an answer but took off towards the hut.

"Hey, wait!" Lee followed him, matching George's stride easily with his longer legs. "Why don't we go back?" He stumbled over a log and cursed this world that didn't even exist. Except that it did. The smell was real, the feel of it was real, the noises, the colour, everything. It was the most amazing and scary thing the twins had ever come up with. When Fred had died, it had still been in an experimental stage, therefore George was the only one who'd ever used it - with Lee as an unwanted passenger.

They went inside the gloomy cottage that had only two small windows. It smelled of dirt and old socks, sunlight illuminated the dust that was floating in the air. One look was enough to see that it was empty.

"Where the hell did he go?" George asked, turning around to look at Lee.

"I don't see why it matters. He's gone. We'll go back."

"You don't see a problem here?"

"I see plenty of problems," Lee replied. "But none of them are directly related to the fact that your brother has escaped from your daydream."

"Yeah," George said. "You wouldn't."

Lee didn't know what to say and even less what to do. George looked around as if he'd be able to find Fred just by staring hard enough at the corners of the hut. And why not? It was George's dream, after all. "Shouldn't you be able to call him? Or something?" Lee finally asked.

George let out a harsh breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "So you do see a problem. Ten points to Jordan for pointing out the obvious."

Lee sat down on the bed, causing more dust to rise. "Look," he said with a calm voice. "What you're doing is not healthy. The person that was here is not Fred. Get mad at me as much as you want to. I'm shit at talking, and you're even worse, but it's not working that way. It's been the better part of a year, nothing has changed, and I'm sick of it. We need to go back and deal with this. We as in you and me because I'm not going away. Accept this if nothing else."

George shot him an amused look. "Done patronising? Where'd you get that lovely tan, mummy?"

Lee groaned and then tried a different approach. "You probably were piss drunk when you brewed the potion. We're lucky that we're still alive. I resent you for making me follow you every damn time, but I'm stubborn enough to stick around. You will not have any kind of fun no matter if Fred comes back or not as long as I'm here, and you can't make me go back without ending the hallucination." He held up his hands. "Don't try it again, last time hurt. The rule's simple, you said it yourself. The one in charge needs to end it then everyone can go back. So can we go now?"

"What if he's in trouble?" George was frowning.

"Who?"

"Fred."

There was silence for long moments as Lee tried to follow that train of thought and failed. "He's in your head," he said, trying not to sound exasperated. "He doesn't exist outside of this room. Nothing really exists outside of this room. Not even this room exists. We're in the back of your shop. You're lying on the sofa, I'm sitting on the floor. Fred's not in trouble, because Fred is not."

There was another pause in which Lee wondered how drunk George still was. "Do you think I'm an idiot?" George asked.

Lee opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it again. When he opened it for the second time, he grinned. "Pretty much, yeah."

George only stared at him. Lee saw the moment when the tension went out of his shoulders, and he dropped his gaze. Without another word, George took his wand from the back pocket of his jeans, flicked it and spoke the words that would end the illusion.

Lee waited for the room to fade out.

It didn't.

*

George had cast the spell at least a dozen times, but the world they were in didn't so much as flicker. The sun was already close to the horizon; it would be dark soon.

"This is not going according to plan," Lee muttered.

"When did anything go according to plan in the last year?" George said, not bothering to lift his voice at the end of what technically was a question.

Lee wasn't up to sarcasm anymore. He got up and walked over to the door, opened it and looked outside. "Would it help if we went back out to the place where you started the daydream?"

The short shrug of George's shoulders indicated that he didn't know either. "We can try."

Lee heard the rolling waves of the nearby coast and the noises that came from the trees on the other side. They'd grown louder in the time they'd been in the hut.

George tried the spell again - to no avail. They both cursed, then argued what to do, then went back into the hut as it was the only thing they could think of.

The sofa was not as comfortable as the bed, but not as dirty either. Lee sat down and watched George who paced in the limited space. "What now?" Lee asked. "How're we going to end this?"

George raked his hand through his hair. "Hell if I know. Can't last forever, yeah?"

That wasn't very promising, Lee thought. "Can't you fix this somehow? You invented this shit. What went wrong?"

"Could you stop talking and let me think for a moment here?"

Instead of an answer, Lee held up his hands and pursed his lips. Then he got up, careful not to run into George who was still pacing, and went over to what they called 'kitchen', but was really only a cupboard and a tiny stove run by wood or magic. Not long ago, Lee had practically lived here, hosting an underground radio program and thinking that in the end, everything would be all right. He'd grown up since then.

There were a few bottles of ale in the cupboard, and Lee took two of them, opened them at the edge of the cupboard door. He also found some canned food, half a loaf of bread that wasn't too hard yet, chocolate, biscuits, some apples and a bottle of cheap Firewhiskey. For the moment, he left everything but the beer where it was.

"Could be the memory part of the potion," George said, turning to face Lee. "I usually keep the components of the potion stocked. If I want some, I only have to mix the five parts. But I ran out of the memory and the subconsciousness part, so I had to brew them."

Lee gave him one of the bottles and drank from his own before prompting, "And?"

George downed half of his ale in one long gulp. "I was drunk."

"I figured." Lee again asked himself how long George had been here already - George seemed reasonably sober now - but he refrained from asking.

"If, some time during the brewing, I hypothetically dropped one of the memories into the cauldron instead of just dipping the silver strands into it, then there could be consequences."

"Can you say that again without the sugar coating?" Lee asked. The worried look on George's face made him feel uneasy.

"I think I remember dropping one of the memories into the cauldron. That's not disastrous in itself, but if I forgot to take it back out - and Merlin, I'm almost sure I caught it, but I was rat arsed - the effect could be," George waved with his hands, "practically anything."

"Practically anything," Lee repeated. His heart was beating faster now. "You know," he said, "I'm this close to freaking out." Lee demonstrated it with his thumb and forefinger, barely a gap visible between them. "So cut the crap now, and tell me what exactly 'practically anything' is."

George drank the rest of his beer. "If I dropped the memory and if I forgot to take it out..." George exhaled. "It could take over."

"Take over. Take over what?"

George sighed, then sat down next to Lee. He held up his hand and ticked off with the help of his fingers. "Memory, subconscious desires, conscious wishes, chance to add unpredictability, stabilising the whole thing. That are the five parts of the potion. It's taken us months to find the right balance."

Lee nodded. "I remember that."

"Too much subconsciousness meant that we'd find out things about ourselves we really didn't want to know." George shuddered visibly at the thought. "Too much consciousness, and it was too predictable, too boring. Too much stabilising, and virtually nothing moved. Too much memory, and the effect was utterly unpredictable. The person taking the potion wasn't in charge any more, but something from the past they had no control over. We ended up on some bad trips with that one."

Lee already felt as if he were on a bad trip. "How do we make it stop? How did you get out when you tested it?"

"We never tested alone. You can stop it if you take the antidote."

The ale wasn't helping, and Lee put the bottle down. "We cannot take the antidote. We don't have the antidote." Not to mention that there was no one who could give it to their unconscious bodies. "So tell me, please, that there's a way for us to go back. And don't tell me we're going to stay here until we starve in the real world and start to rot."

George got up again and started to pace once more. "All memories I used were memories of Fred." Lee didn't miss how George's voice wavered when he spoke the name. Nevertheless, George continued. "Therefore the one that fell into the cauldron was one of him. Do you think it's a coincidence that he seems to be the only thing that went missing?"

Lee shook his head. His stomach felt as if it had tied itself into knots as he suspected where this was going.

"I think that Fred's taken over," George said.

"Fred's not real," Lee answered automatically.

"He is. He's very much real here. The rule's simple, Lee," George said in an imitation of what Lee had said earlier. "The one in charge needs to end it."

"You've got to be kidding." Bile was rising in Lee's throat, and he regretted drinking the ale.

George stopped pacing and looked at him. "We have to find Fred."

***

Next

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten

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