A Billions fan fiction brought to you with a warning that there are slight spoilers, but not major ones.
**Disclaimer: Billions and its characters belong to Showtime. Not us. There is no profit or copy right infringement intended and absolutely no intention of saying that anyone from Billions stole our ideas in the unlikely event we accidently write something that comes to fruition. This is simply two fans having fun. **
Missing scene from the Pilot
Wendy pulls everything out from the bottom of the cabinet in her study until she finds what she is looking for. Exactly where she expected them to be, right at the back, out of sight and out of mind, but lurking there just as certain thoughts continuously lurk in her mind on a daily basis and from which she only gets respite while she is sleeping.
Gathering the notebooks, she stands up and makes her way to her desk leaving a mess behind her on the floor with the cabinet door open. It is definitely something she would give the kids into trouble for. Maybe moms are as bad as Doctors, but this is her sanctuary and she is free to be a hypocrite. Besides, it is fitting. It would be the perfect presentation of her mind at the moment.
She settles down in her comfy chair, but not leaning forward like her husband is want to do, trying to dominate whoever is standing in front of him or leaning back like Axe does, taking in the entire space and challenging everyone and anyone to dare have a go at him. Both still hormonal teenage boys when they want to be. Fighting over the girl. She sighs. This could get messy. She has her own way of sitting for her own comfort.
Opening the newest looking of the notebooks she realises the last entry is November 2014. Has it really been that long since she last needed to do this? Since she shut the notebooks back in there and declared no need of them? She’s not really sure what perturbs her more, the fact she is here doing this again or that 2 years have apparently passed in the blink of an eye.
She lifts up her weapon of choice, a blue ball point pen, and begins to write.
They say that Doctors make the worst patients, incapable of following the advice they give to others. That is probably a fair assessment. I’m still where I am when I last wrote nearly two years ago and if a patient had been stuck in such a cycle I would be lecturing them on how unhealthy such stagnancy is.
There is something in the works. Chuck may have tried to cover it up, but it is obvious. A possible conflict that would mean my having to leave Axe Capital. Given my last entry around my inability to do that by myself this could be seen as a good development for me. Something that pulls me out of the cycle I’m stuck in, but the truth is I’m reluctant to a degree because I actually like where I work and who I work for. Better not tell Chuck that or his testosterone radar will start blaring. There is also the fact that I just really don’t like Chuck’s ulterior motive which he tried to hide. When he starts behaving like his father my hackles go up. I can dick swing with the best of them.
On the other hand, I have stagnated alarmingly. I have a routine which is frightening mostly because I know it off by heart and there isn’t really anything juicy to get stuck in to. I’m not growing professionally.
There is also Axe and Wags. We, three. Wags would cope much better with my departure than Bobby, though not for the reasons I once long ago hastily scribbled. I’ll admit I got him wrong.
The pen stops hovering over the last bit of punctuation and stays there until she accepts that she has nothing else to write for the moment. Unwilling to allow herself to indulge in frustration she does what she always does when finding herself in this chair with these notebooks and writing down her problems. She lifts up the eldest of the notebooks when everything was new and unpredictable and begins reading, no, searching for a reason to stay.
Maybe I’m just numb or maybe just better equipped to work through the grief, but Bobby is either going to work himself to death or drink himself to death. He may even manage both.
Early December 2001
Hmm …Wags has been getting on my nerves. I find his jokes, or his general manner (it is hard to tell the difference), range from mildly inappropriate to wildly inappropriate. I don’t think he likes me much either. I sometimes see him looking at me calculatingly.
Christmas is on its way and no one can be bothered to give a shit. Bobby speeds around the place like a hound on the racetracks.
Bobby announced that there we are all to go to his house on Friday.
Post gathering at Bobby’s– I may have to consider the possibility that I have been wrongly judging Wags…oh some of the things he comes out with are as inappropriate as ever, but I saw Bobby crack a smile a few times when Wags was in the vicinity and I saw Wags substituting Vodka for water when he clearly deemed Bobby had too much already. Apparently, I’m not the only one concerned about Bobby’s liver function and general well being.
She half laughs/half sighs at these entries. Right here is written words that explain why she is finding it hard to move on. The emotional ties that bind her so strongly to Axe Capital through Axe and Wags.
We have been very busy hence the reason for my lack of writing. I have been too tired. Bobby is coming through the worst of his survivor’s guilt though Wags and I have agreed to keep an eye on him as the first anniversary approaches. Did I say I didn’t like Wags? What the heck do I know? The man is a comic genius.
Anyway, Bobby is like a kid high on sugar. He just bought a red Ferrari that he absolutely does not need.
Bobby’s demeanour has changed and most of the staff are walking on egg shells around him. He started on me too, but I firmly put him in place about that. I’ll happily support him, but I won’t be his punch bag. I’m sure I saw some respect gathering behind the eyes. Wags gave me the thumbs up. He’s refusing to take shit from Bobby too.
There is to be a Christmas Party at Bobby’s house arranged for the last Friday before Christmas.
There is something irritating about arriving at a party to find people talking about work. I have reluctantly had to accept this happens at parties involving financial workers. Having said that, I’m not sure the conversation I heard when I arrived was necessarily about work.
“Get in, get it over with and get out.”
It was Wags that said it so it could just as easily be his plans for the weekend.
Morning after the night after the Christmas Party – I never quite realised just how blue Bobby’s eyes were before. I never expected his lips to be so soft or him to be such an attentive and unselfish lover.
She shuts the notebook close with a snap. That is really not helping! She shuffles it to the bottom of the pile out of the way and choses another one.
January – December 2008
Bollocks. Just bollocks.
She snorts. It wasn’t funny at the time with no one having a clue how it happened and making up new rules as they went.
I’m feeling a bit frustrated and bored. It is the same thing every day and I think I may want a bit more.
She stares at the date, 6 years ago. Her first entry about this problem was 6 years ago? That couldn’t be right, could it? As the shock begins to dissipate slightly, she lifts the pen and adds another few words under ‘September 2016’
I’m restless and unsure. I really don’t like it!