Living

Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Wesley/Winifred
Summary: "... when it was quite and lonely, times when it took all she had to feel alive."
Disclaimer: All hail Joss, the master of all things Angel...
Distribution: Morphine Tears. Anywhere else, just let me know where it's going.
Author's Note: Part of a mini-feeling series. You should definitely read Freezing, then Burning, then this one.

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She remembered Pylea sometimes, when it was quiet and lonely, times when it took all she had to feel alive. There it was flee or fight, kill or be killed, live or die, but here she had time to think, time to breathe, too much time to feel alive. Inside it burned her up, making her wish she could have been there for him. Instead, she had cast him away, telling him they didn't care anymore.


Guilt was a thing she didn't wear well, she knew they could sense it with every moment that they stood beside her in battle or asked her to translate a text. She figured they felt it too sometimes, when things looked especially dark and his shadow danced across the hotel-front in the pale yellow streetlights. She didn't know for sure that he came, creeping in the dark to check on them despite the pain they caused, but she guessed as much. She could see it in the tenseness of the other woman's face as the men told them tales of battle and glory. Funny, they always left the third hero out.


Once, she thought she heard the soft snap of a branch from beneath the window outside, but before she could investigate, arms were around her, pulling her into an embrace, too tight… too possessive. Even now he was afraid. 'I wanna see… maybe, just maybe…'


She lived for the rare occasion when she could slip away, standing on the street across from his apartment, watching shadows frolic and twirl around inside the closed blinds. Sometimes, there were two shadows, fluttering and twisting until they made it to the bedroom, where she imagined laying down beside him instead of whoever was in his arms right then. 'Does he love that girl? Does he love me?'


She'd cry for him on the way home, stopping only long enough to dry her tears before she'd head back up to her bed. She'd climb into the arms of the man that loved her, a place that should make her happy and safe. She'd think about him for a few hours until it was just too much and she felt like she'd rather die than spend another moment away from his side. It was then that she'd remind herself that this whole situation was her fault, that she never should have told him to stay away. She'd mentally apologize, but her thoughts would never drift back to him. She knew that she should feel better, but inside all she felt was dead.


She lies awake, wondering what it's like to be alive.


<--- once again, i know