Conversations In Rome
Summary/Spoiler: This takes place after Ats season 5 "Shells" if you don't want to be spoiled or confused, don't read!! As always this is told from Angel's POV
A/N Charlina, I'm always up for a B/A challenge. I would be most interested in doing one. Just shoot me an email. Kristi@allengames.com
Another one bites the dust, you win some you lose some, Angelus taunts me in my head. I mentally backhand him and scrub my hands across my face. I wasn't supposed to lose this one though. Somehow losing Fred is worse then losing Cordy. Cordy knew the stakes. She was a fighter. Cordy was never a damsel in distress, no matter how much she might have wanted me to think she was that first year in Sunnydale. Cordy never needed anyone to save her.
"Handsome man come to save me."
"That's how it works."
That was how it was supposed to work. I saved Fred. I always saved Fred, except for the one time that counted. Instead, I sacrificed her. I might as well have snapped her neck and offered her up to the Powers that Be. I brought them all to Wolfram and Hart. How was she supposed to survive in a pack of wolves like this? It was stupid, foolish of me to think I could do anything from the belly of the beast, except get eaten. You'd think two and a half centuries would make you wise, obviously not. Darla always did say I was more brawn then brains. I ram my fist into the wall. The wood paneling cracks. I am seized with the urge to tear this building apart piece by piece with my bare hands. That wouldn't get rid of them though. It wouldn't solve the problem and it wouldn't bring Fred back. Nothing will bring Fred back now.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I force my mind to relax, my muscles to unwind. For some reason my mind slips back to so many years ago, doing Tai Chi with Buffy. Has it been that long? It couldn't have been. I swear it was yesterday. I unbutton my shirt and drape it over a chair. I toe off my shoes and socks. I close my eyes and begin the Tai Chi movements. In my mind I can see my Buffy performing them next to me, oh so careful not to touch me, because that's not allowed. We couldn't help though. We never could. We still can't.
I'm just putting off what I really need. I finish up the relaxing movements and go to the closet. I pull out the shirt that hangs there. The one I wore to England. The one Buffy christened with her tears and snuggled up against. I slip it on, not bothering to button it. It smells like her. I pick up the cordless phone and slip into bed. I dial her number. She picks up on the second ring, almost as if she was expecting me.
"Hello," Her voice is anxious and a little breathy.
"Buffy,"
"Angel," I can hear the smile in her voice when she says my name. There have been many women in my existence that have said that name. None of them have ever said it like her. None of them have ever made my dead heart beat with just my name, except her.
"How are you? Sorry, stupid question, I know." She says.
"She counted on me to save her, Buffy." Tears flood my eyes. "That was how it worked. Fred got in trouble and I saved her." The echo of Fred's words ring in my ears and I can't talk. I'm lucky I don't have to breathe, because I can't.
"Oh, Angel, you can't save everyone. Wars have causalities and I hate it. I hate losing people. I hate knowing I can't save them and I hate that sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, whatever that is." I can hear Buffy's voice tremble with tears. Somehow knowing that she shares my pain, even half way around the world, is comforting.
"Does it ever get easier?" I manage to ask.
"Truth?" She says.
The truth, do I want the truth tonight? I know what the truth is. I don't need anyone to tell me about it. There will be plenty of time for the truth in the light of day.
"Lie to me." I say.
"Yes. It gets infinitely easier. The good guys always win. The bad guys always wear black hats and those funny handle bar mustaches and are always easily dispatched. No one ever dies and it's just a matter of time before we wipe out all the demons and all the evil. When we're done saving the world we'll get a little house somewhere they have good Mexican food and chocolate. We'll always be together, we'll never hurt each other, we'll be in love until the day we die and we'll live happily ever after." Her voice is husky and I know she's choking back tears.
"Tell me about our house." I say.
"It's on the beach, a little bungalow I think. The windows are always open and the ocean breeze tosses the sheer white curtains around. There's a little deck with stairs that lead right down to the water. We have breakfast every morning out there with coffee and bagels. There's a hammock strung up under a couple of palm trees. We sit out there in the afternoon and you read some seventeenth century poetry to me. We sip iced tea out of glasses with little umbrellas because really neither of us needs alcohol. We're drunk on each other. We have a little boy and he looks just like you. He's named something very Irish. Our little girl looks like me, of course, and she's her Daddy's girl." Her voice cracks and she stops and takes a deep breath.
"Thank you." I say.
I can hear her tears over the phone line and if I close my eyes I can feel her body against mine. Her smell surrounds me and longing has never been such an ache inside me as it is now. I need her like humans need air. I don't breathe oxygen. I breathe Buffy.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." I say. I never mean to make her cry. I'm awfully good at though.
"No, you didn't. It's not like I wouldn't have dreamed it later anyway." She finally says. "I'm going to go, because if I talk anymore I'm either going to go catatonic or hop a flight to LA."
I nod. "Let me know if you need someone to pick you up, whenever, wherever."
"I will, whenever." She says. "You'll call back, won't you?"
"Always, and thank you." I say.
"It's okay, sometimes I need to hear the lies too. They help get you through the darkest parts." She hangs up the phone and she's gone, but she's not, not really. Buffy is never gone when it comes to me. I carry a part of her inside of me and I will until the day I cease to exist. As long as I walk on this earth, what Buffy and I have lives on in me.
I put the phone on the bedside table and turn off the lamp. I grab a pillow and curl up around it. If I close my eyes and concentrate on the smell of her that lingers on my shirt, maybe I can pretend for just tonight that I'm curled around her.
Summary/Spoiler: This takes place after Ats season 5 "Shells" if you don't want to be spoiled or confused, don't read!! As always this is told from Angel's POV
A/N Charlina, I'm always up for a B/A challenge. I would be most interested in doing one. Just shoot me an email. Kristi@allengames.com
Another one bites the dust, you win some you lose some, Angelus taunts me in my head. I mentally backhand him and scrub my hands across my face. I wasn't supposed to lose this one though. Somehow losing Fred is worse then losing Cordy. Cordy knew the stakes. She was a fighter. Cordy was never a damsel in distress, no matter how much she might have wanted me to think she was that first year in Sunnydale. Cordy never needed anyone to save her.
"Handsome man come to save me."
"That's how it works."
That was how it was supposed to work. I saved Fred. I always saved Fred, except for the one time that counted. Instead, I sacrificed her. I might as well have snapped her neck and offered her up to the Powers that Be. I brought them all to Wolfram and Hart. How was she supposed to survive in a pack of wolves like this? It was stupid, foolish of me to think I could do anything from the belly of the beast, except get eaten. You'd think two and a half centuries would make you wise, obviously not. Darla always did say I was more brawn then brains. I ram my fist into the wall. The wood paneling cracks. I am seized with the urge to tear this building apart piece by piece with my bare hands. That wouldn't get rid of them though. It wouldn't solve the problem and it wouldn't bring Fred back. Nothing will bring Fred back now.
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I force my mind to relax, my muscles to unwind. For some reason my mind slips back to so many years ago, doing Tai Chi with Buffy. Has it been that long? It couldn't have been. I swear it was yesterday. I unbutton my shirt and drape it over a chair. I toe off my shoes and socks. I close my eyes and begin the Tai Chi movements. In my mind I can see my Buffy performing them next to me, oh so careful not to touch me, because that's not allowed. We couldn't help though. We never could. We still can't.
I'm just putting off what I really need. I finish up the relaxing movements and go to the closet. I pull out the shirt that hangs there. The one I wore to England. The one Buffy christened with her tears and snuggled up against. I slip it on, not bothering to button it. It smells like her. I pick up the cordless phone and slip into bed. I dial her number. She picks up on the second ring, almost as if she was expecting me.
"Hello," Her voice is anxious and a little breathy.
"Buffy,"
"Angel," I can hear the smile in her voice when she says my name. There have been many women in my existence that have said that name. None of them have ever said it like her. None of them have ever made my dead heart beat with just my name, except her.
"How are you? Sorry, stupid question, I know." She says.
"She counted on me to save her, Buffy." Tears flood my eyes. "That was how it worked. Fred got in trouble and I saved her." The echo of Fred's words ring in my ears and I can't talk. I'm lucky I don't have to breathe, because I can't.
"Oh, Angel, you can't save everyone. Wars have causalities and I hate it. I hate losing people. I hate knowing I can't save them and I hate that sacrifices have to be made for the greater good, whatever that is." I can hear Buffy's voice tremble with tears. Somehow knowing that she shares my pain, even half way around the world, is comforting.
"Does it ever get easier?" I manage to ask.
"Truth?" She says.
The truth, do I want the truth tonight? I know what the truth is. I don't need anyone to tell me about it. There will be plenty of time for the truth in the light of day.
"Lie to me." I say.
"Yes. It gets infinitely easier. The good guys always win. The bad guys always wear black hats and those funny handle bar mustaches and are always easily dispatched. No one ever dies and it's just a matter of time before we wipe out all the demons and all the evil. When we're done saving the world we'll get a little house somewhere they have good Mexican food and chocolate. We'll always be together, we'll never hurt each other, we'll be in love until the day we die and we'll live happily ever after." Her voice is husky and I know she's choking back tears.
"Tell me about our house." I say.
"It's on the beach, a little bungalow I think. The windows are always open and the ocean breeze tosses the sheer white curtains around. There's a little deck with stairs that lead right down to the water. We have breakfast every morning out there with coffee and bagels. There's a hammock strung up under a couple of palm trees. We sit out there in the afternoon and you read some seventeenth century poetry to me. We sip iced tea out of glasses with little umbrellas because really neither of us needs alcohol. We're drunk on each other. We have a little boy and he looks just like you. He's named something very Irish. Our little girl looks like me, of course, and she's her Daddy's girl." Her voice cracks and she stops and takes a deep breath.
"Thank you." I say.
I can hear her tears over the phone line and if I close my eyes I can feel her body against mine. Her smell surrounds me and longing has never been such an ache inside me as it is now. I need her like humans need air. I don't breathe oxygen. I breathe Buffy.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." I say. I never mean to make her cry. I'm awfully good at though.
"No, you didn't. It's not like I wouldn't have dreamed it later anyway." She finally says. "I'm going to go, because if I talk anymore I'm either going to go catatonic or hop a flight to LA."
I nod. "Let me know if you need someone to pick you up, whenever, wherever."
"I will, whenever." She says. "You'll call back, won't you?"
"Always, and thank you." I say.
"It's okay, sometimes I need to hear the lies too. They help get you through the darkest parts." She hangs up the phone and she's gone, but she's not, not really. Buffy is never gone when it comes to me. I carry a part of her inside of me and I will until the day I cease to exist. As long as I walk on this earth, what Buffy and I have lives on in me.
I put the phone on the bedside table and turn off the lamp. I grab a pillow and curl up around it. If I close my eyes and concentrate on the smell of her that lingers on my shirt, maybe I can pretend for just tonight that I'm curled around her.