[ open ] always pushing up the hill searching for the thrill of it
If you wander through Grant Park you may witness a man staring up at the sun. If he's not staring incredulously at the ball of light in the sky, he's seated on a bench, flipping through a journal. It's not exactly his first walk through the park, figuratively speaking, when it comes to dimensional travel. But, because of what he is, he hardly ever
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Monsters, vampires, tourists. Occasionally there's even a random wild animal (usually a shapeshifter gone awry). It's usually a magical mystery tour of fun and adventure, and every once in a while there's a new Wanderer that she has to show the ropes. And normally, she doesn't mind -- but this Wanderer isn't something that she's expecting. It's been a very, very long time since she's seen him, and it's something that she always knew would happen, but still isn't entirely prepared for.
"Angel."
Saying it makes it real in away, because it's that moment where everything else sets in. The fact that yes, that's Angel. The fact that yes, it's daytime.
The fact that Angel is most decidedly not on fire.
"Angel, what are you doing?"
That statement is mostly worry and concern as she's running towards him trying to shield him from the sun as she did. She isn't going to let him land in Chicago just to burn up two minutes later.
That's just not very much fun at all.
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He's not surprised Buffy is in Grant Park. Because of the journal and a very honest journal entry.
"You were with a slayer named Satsu?" It comes out without thinking but, could she blame him? It's at the forefront of his mind, currently. That, and why Buffy would be sharing that information in the first place.
And then, her reaction. He sits under her, giving her a decidedly neutral look.
"Not that I don't appreciate it... but I'm fine. The sun is different in different dimensions."
Seriously, Buffy. Satsu? What kind of name is Satsu?
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... And now Buffy seems decidedly foolish for rushing in to save him from a ... fire he was not going to be set on. She shifts a bit, resettling the jacket on her shoulders, and then starts to scowl.
"Satsu is none of your business," she says simply. "You are not allowed to comment on Satsu." Angel is not allowed to comment on any of her partners, period.
She then crosses her arms in front of her chest, clearly very uncomfortable. "How long have you been here?"
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Angel closes the journal in his hand, setting it beside him.
"Not even a few hours. How long have you been here?" He asked the same question back. "A few months, at least, judging by your last journal entry." He's only a little jealous.
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That time spent in Chicago keeps getting longer and longer every time she thinks about it, and she's still surprised that she's so okay with it. She still feels that there are so many things she's leaving behind, without even realizing it.
"When was it for you? When you left home, I mean."
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"May 2003," he says, standing up. "L.A." Something occurs to him. This might not be the doing of the Senior Partners. "We're in Chicago."
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Okay. So before LA went to Hell. When Angel is still working from Wolfram and Hart, and they cut off communication. Not that Buffy has seen him since, but honestly, she isn't entirely sure he's alive. But that's information she's keeping to herself for now.
"And it's January 2012, and you've fallen through a rift in time and space."
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"I've fallen. Through a rift." So, the Senior Partners do have zero to do with this. Gunn, Illyria, Spike. Probably dead right now. He sets his jaw. "How do I -- get back up." Because, he's fallen -- so -- yeah.
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It's a hard truth of the world they live in, but it is the truth. There is no going home from this. The Rift picks you up, drops you here, and you have to live with it. Whether you want to or not.
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"Portals can be reopened," he says. Isn't that what a rift would be? A portal? "Has anyone tried?"
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You could wind up on another planet for all she knew. Stranger things have happened.
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This is always the hardest part to explain. It's the hardest part to try and make sense of because it is hard to make sense of. Even for people like them, who see weird every day.
"You could, but ... this isn't our LA. It's a completely different universe."
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"Who else is here?"
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She misses Doyle. She misses every piece of home that has come and gone, but Doyle ... she was just getting to know him. Back home, she never got to have the chance.
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"Doyle was here?" That strikes a nerve. He doesn't mask the twinge of pain in his tone of voice. First soldier down as Cordelia had put it. Guess his second chance came up short. It isn't right that Harris gets to stay in this... rift and Doyle gets sent back to die.
No Cordelia. Fred. Wes. Check, check, check. No Illyria, either. There's been such pain in the last few months. Their final assault was supposed to mean something. He looks away.
"It's been a while." Since they've spoken to each other, he means.
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