simplestgift | Twenty Bells: [Action/Voice]

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Twenty Bells: [Action/Voice]

[He'd won her a stuffed penguin. She'd been hanging on his arm and squeezing it with a giant grin on her face. Everything felt, finally, like it was going to be okay. Like this trouble between them since sleeping together was just a little thing.

He turns away to grab a strawberry daiquiri for her, still holding her hand. When he turns back, she's gone.

He wanders Lucetiland for a while, looking for her, shaking, still holding the drink, but he knows what's happened. When someone dematerializes while you are touching them...

She was just there, grinning, cheeks rosy. The warmth of her hand hasn't quite faded yet.

He sits on a bench in the middle of the park, staring into space, and nothing in the world draws his attention until, mechanically, he draws out his journal. He's shaking too badly to write, so he has to voice it, and he sounds weak.]

Dawn Summers was sent home.

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...Huh?

[ this barely registers. ] What? What about Dawn? Is she okay?

[There's a long pause. How can he reiterate this to Buffy?

Like an officer.

He clears his throat, his voice going low, but cracking a little.]

She-she went home.

No.

[ instantly, her voice gets thick. ] No. She can't have. I just -- we just talked. She came by the castle and we talked, dammit. She's here. You just...you lost track of her.

I was holding her hand. [He sounds distant.]

Then you let go and she got lost in the crowd. There's hundreds of us out here.

[ but now comes the sound of a great scuffle and of swearing and a grunt of pain as buffy tussles once again with the droids keeping her in this damned castle. ] Let me out. [ she shouts at them, pleads with them.

by now, she must be crying. ] Archie. You've gotta be wrong. You have to be wrong.

[That's exactly what he's been telling himself. He looked everywhere. But he can't forget the feeling of her hand vanishing in his. He rubs his fingers together slightly, but does not respond.]

Archie? Please tell me you haven't checked her apartment yet.

[ but she understands. sometimes? you just know. like waking up without jack. like walking in on a kirkless bed. ]

[Blinking rapidly, his breathing becomes audible for a second.] N-no.

Then you don't know. Not for sure.

[ she clings to this tattered, wispy bit of hope. ]

[He knows. He knew the moment he stopped feeling her hand in his.]

Perhaps I don't.

...Perhaps.

[ a hard swallow. ] You check. I'll -- I'll find you once I'm out.

All right. [He's not going to check. He knows. And going to her apartment and seeing it empty will only seal it.]

[ hours later, a raw voice hits the journal feed: ] Where are you?

Home. [His voice also sounds very raw, and exhausted.]

Then I'm coming over.

[ no question. no waiting for an invite. the journal's already shut. ]

[Archie closes the journal as well, then belatedly realizes he is, by eighteenth-century terms, undressed. He starts fishing around for a waistcoat and coat, and will still be doing so when Buffy arrives.]

[ and this time buffy summers doesn't knock. ]

[He glances up, holding his waistcoat. He is red-eyed and altogether kind of looking like a mess.]

Buffy?

[ by contrast, buffy's face is hard. empty. such a hollow woman when she feels she needs to be. but her brittle shield wavers and soon she is pushing aside archie's waistcoat -- it is an obstacle -- and is hugging him close. slayer strength locks the sailor into the embrace.

she understands all of this all too well. ]

OOF!

[It's so unexpected, he simply holds his arms out to the side for a moment. Then, as if remembering what comes next, he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

Mutual comfort. They've both lost.]

[ no words. she would hate to spoil this with words. just the hug and -- dare she think it! -- love. sisterly; in both iterations of the bond. ]

[Love.

The moment holds for a long time, and Archie is in no rush to get it over with. Convention doesn't even matter. This is all there is right now: grief, and the true knowledge that he is going through this with someone who understands every note of it.]

[ convention be damned. buffy has never been a fan of it; she isn't going to start now. her fingers dig desperate little holds into the back of archie's shoulders and she realizes she's probably pressing his wings rather uncomfortably and only then lets up her grip. ]

[He takes that as a sign, and begins to release her. He didn't even notice that she was pressing his wings.]

...I'm sorry, Archie.

[ hoarse. she's been crying. ]

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