Disclaimer: I own nothing; for fun, not profit; etc.
Setting/Spoilers: Some time mid-season four, nothing explicit after Crossroads part II.
Notes: This was originally a segment from a character study on Tory I was writing before it evolved into a monster. I know she's not most people's favorite character - if indeed she's not on their hate list - and while she's not Billy, she's not meant to be. Her relationship with Laura has always gotten to me, and I hope that by the end she'll have been redeemed.
oOo
"When I was in remission," Laura said out of the blue one day, "I started to wonder if I was the dying leader after all. Even if the cancer had disappeared for good, it wasn't impossible. Pythia never wrote that the dying leader had to die, or couldn't see the promised land." She gave a bitter, self-deprecating sigh, her once-ubiquitous half smile twisted in irony. "Archetypes and allegory are really getting to be the bane of my existence."
Whatever existence is meant to be, Tory heard the unspoken thought drift in the balance between the two of them. She stood holding a stack of files in her hand halfway across the room, having paused in her action at Laura's soft speech, which if not split, then disturbed the stillness of the room like the force behind a blunt knife, too tired to feign edge or efficiency.
"The dangers of living a myth," she replied now, her lips forming the words, chest resonating with her own voice before she had time to consider them.
Laura looked at her oddly for that, perhaps not expecting that response, perhaps not expecting a response at all. "A myth?" she questioned.
"All this has happened before," the words were again pulled from Tory's lips as though by some unseen force, trailing off to leave prophecy unfinished.
Laura cocked her head. "I didn't think you were religious."
Tory shrugged, and shuddered. "Maybe we're all archetypes."
Said the joker to the thief, her mind supplied, a quiet taunt that never ended these days. She felt her eyes turn distant as she sank into the chair opposite Laura, the words pulsing ceaselessly at her very skin.
"Maybe," Laura whispered, a hint of understanding she couldn't possibly comprehend soft on her breath; and didn't say anything else.
Tory breathed in the quiet.