Those Who Lived DeathAuthor: Koohii CafeRating:
Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Torchwood are mine. ^^;Written for: TtH August Fic A Day ChallengeSummary: "You think you threw a tantrum, Owen? You should've seen me."Author's Notes:
Sequel to 'Those Who Know Death
Those Who Lived Death
"All better now?"
"Dunno if I'd put it in quite those words, but a bit better at least."
"Glad to hear." She let her eyes run over him, taking in the bandaged hand and arching an eyebrow at him. "I heard your temper tantrum made it to new heights before you got it all figured out, huh?"
"Yeah, well, you thought you had it bad? Least you were fully functioning." Buffy snorted at that, but he didn't mean it, not really. If he'd meant it, there would have been that malicious, cutting edge to his voice that Owen could do so well when he wanted. Instead, he seemed- at peace almost, his voice edged with cutting humor rather than anger. It was a good change.
"Not sure that's what I would have called me, back then, but I was really alive, yeah. Not so much with the walking dead thing." She tilted her head, let her eyes slide closed, reaching out with her other senses, but he was just- a blank spot. Nothing. She opened her eyes again, to find him watching her, an eyebrow arched, and she shook her head. "Sorry, thoughts. Kinda running away with me. I'm glad you called."
"Jack said you'd have a different perspective."
"He was right. At least, if your version of being dead is anything like his, he was." Darkness. Nothingness. A thought that still gave her shivers sometimes, if she thought too much about it. She knew there was more out there, knew better than anyone else, but it'd bothered her for a long time, what Jack went through every time he died. And then, sometimes, she didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse for him. "Was it?"
"Yeah." Short and to the point. A bit quiet, which was different for him. "But it wasn't like that for you, was it?"
"No." Her voice was equally soft, but it lacked the pain it might have carried years ago. The corners of her lips quirked up into a smile. "When I died, it was better. Perfect. Which is why it was so hard to come back here." She paused, her smile bittersweet. Amused and self depreciating. "You think you threw a tantrum, Owen? You should've seen me. I- was bad. Almost destroyed myself, because I couldn't handle it."
"It was your- friends- that did it, right? Brought you back?"
"Yup." She nodded, and the bitter seeped away, because she'd dealt with all her hang ups a long time ago. "Like Jack with you, they weren't ready for me to be gone. Which, just so you know, I've already read him the riot act for you. His ears are gonna be smarting for the next hundred years or so. He knows
better than to play with life and death."
"What, you not happy to see me back?" He was joking, and she chuckled, shaking her head.
"You know that's not true, I just know how rough it can be. And I'm glad you got to work through it like you did." He nodded, and for a moment, silence fell. He fidgeted, as she watched, then finally met her eyes.
"Thank you. For coming and talking to me. After what I said-"
"Water under the bridge," she interrupted, but he shook his head.
"No, it's not. I'm still not okay with you, or what you did. But thank you."
There was a lot she could have said to that. She could have explained, again, why she left Torchwood all that time ago. Why she'd stayed away, separated herself and the Council from them. She could have apologized, or been upset, or frustrated. She chose none of that. She put her hand on his arm, and met his eyes.