(no subject)
After my encounter with Mister McDonald I had gone back to the lobby. My book and sword were still where I left them. The fire in the hall had been taken care off apparently, not that I actually cared about that. I didn't. I picked up both my sword and my book and walked back to my office. My messy office. The tea Lilah had gotten us still stood on my desk. As if she hadn't just ran away.
I called her Fred.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and leaned against the desk. This was getting me nowhere. To many memories, all scrambled up. There were times I didn't know right from wrong. Left from right. Forward or backward. Who was who. Fred or Illyria. Connor or Buffy. It was all so confusing. Looking up I glanced around my office. The walls were starting to close in on me.
"It's too small. It's too small. I can't breath. There's no room for anything real."
"I should gut you where you stand. You challenged me. There's not enough space to open my jaws. My face is not my face. I don't know what it will say--"
Fred's gone. Only Illyria remains. And Fred's...shell. Fred's gone and will never be back. Her soul crushed and blown away. Scattered on the wind like dust. Lilah is here. Alive apparently. She meant more to me then I've ever admitted to her. Or to myself. Or to ourselves.
"I can't think here!"
Shoving the tray with the tea off my desk I let out a growl. I need to get away from here. Too many memories, to many nightmares. Pulling on my socks and shoes I glance around my office. Such a mess. I don't understand. Opening my door I walk out of the building. I'm going to the only place I've felt free, the only place I've felt at home. Before...before...Connor.
Getting there doesn't take long. I stop by the liquor store to get a few bottles of Bartham Bitter. Not to get drunk. No, if I wanted to be drunk I'd go to a sodding pub. Just to feel more comfortable. Sitting on the ledge of the roof of the hyperion I look out over the city. It's night. The lights of the cars are rushing by. The neon lights are flickering. Everyone is in a hurry. Everyone is lost. The sound of footsteps behind me make me look up.
Familiar footsteps. I'd recognize them anywhere. Yet, I'm too afraid to look up. Afraid she won't like the look in my eyes. Dead eyes. Afraid she'll run away again. But if I don't look up she might leave me. She's all I've left. I don't want to her to leave. Sighing, I sip my bottle and keep looking out over the city.
"You came back," I say softly. It's not a question, just a statement.