Word count: 555
Characters: Giles, Ethan
Warnings: Giles and Ethan. No detail, but it’s there.
Summery: You never truly see both sides of a conversation, do you?
“What are you doing here?”
As if you don’t already know.
“What does it look like? I came to talk.”
I wonder; can you, will you believe it this time?
“Talk? What about?”
The weather? The years between us? That you are still as wary as I? That I still dream of the way the sunlight fell on your face that morning after we escaped from that hell?
“Do you still love me?”
Of course not, you idiot. Never did, not even at the start. Just used you as a way out, thought surely you’d have figured that out by now, so why are you still coming back to do this to the both of us?
“That’s a complicated question.”
That’s a smooth avoidance.
“Only because you make it so. Answer me, now, no thinking, no hesitation, no complication. Do you still love me?”
“If you could change anything about us, then what would it be?”
The fact that I still do.
“That you never saw enough in me to come with me.”
“You hate me, too, don’t you?”
More than you could ever imagine.
“Never as deeply as I care.”
Sorry, slip of the tongue.
“Yes, still. I never could truly stop, even when I wanted to.”
“If you could take another chance as it, would you?”
Who the hell are you kidding?
“That’s just as complex in its own right. As you well know.”
Sure. As I well know. I know how hard it is for you to fully deny someone.
“Stop pressing. Would you consider turning time back and staying with me?”
Knowing everything that I know now.
“Without a second thought. Your turn.”
Can’t dance around it now, can you?
“I’ve missed you every day of my life. Having no-one to share the things that I know you would have appreciated. To be able to rewrite all the pain that you put me through once upon a time… Yes, I think I would. It would either be that or never know you at all and even with everything between us…”
Can I please try to make things right? One more chance, one last shot in the dark? What is it they say, a hope and a prayer?
“Look. Did you want to spend the night? Maybe we could… talk some more?”
Thank-you. Thank-you. I’d swear at times you could read my mind.
“I’d love to, Ripper.”
Warm sunlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, just enough to cause him to stir, and wake, slowly blinking his eyes. The bed was cold, as he stretched an arm across it, unwilling to open his eyes any further than the crack that they already were, to allow a soft glow to spread behind them.
A dream. Just another bloody dream.
Sighing, he rolled over. It seemed to take a ridiculously long amount of time to complete, with muscles that didn’t want to co-operate.
Analyse me, Freud. What did the hell could that one mean?
With a small groan of displeasure at the though that it was over, and reality had to take its place, he opened his eyes.
Ripper sat in a chair beside the bed, looking at him.
He felt a smirk spreading.
“You have no idea how true that is.”