voice + action ✪ there must be some way to bring the hero home

[herotypical]

[ after a week of agonizing combat, buffy summers returns home with only exhaustion on her mind. despite all the excitement and crisis, there's little left to do other than collapse onto her bed and fall into a sleep fit for a weary, worn-out soul. morning sees her feeling no less -- shudder -- zombieish. the horror of the last week is bone-and-marrow deep and has yet to fully make itself known in her system. the slayer is running on auxillery humanity, stringing herself along from second to second until she can find a friendly face. find willow and...

and all she finds is an empty room. an empty closet. empty drawers. her best friend is gone. deported while she wasn't even looking. come the afternoon, after she's gotten the first onslaught of emotions out of her system, buffy sits alone on the empty bed. she addresses her journal: ]

Willow and I have this game we like to play. Willow Rosenberg. She was in town...but now she's not. [ a pause allows buffy to catch her breath. to stay strong. ] We call it 'Anywhere But Here' -- self-explanatory, really. Pick a fantasty-elsewhere to be and a fantasy-someone to share it with. I'm not talking about the obvious ones: home or family or anything even remotely whiffing of responsibility. I'm talking about fun. I'm talking about pure escapism. I'm talking Daniel Craig on the beach or Amy Yip at the waterpark.

I'll go first. Show you how it's done. [ but which escape route from reality should she take? ] The '88 Winter Olympics. The Saddledome. Calgary, of all places. Brian Boitano is taking the time to personally skate me through his gold medal routine. Perhaps there's hot chocolate involved. I, being made entirely of my own imagination, copy each move perfectly.

Got it? Good. Because now it's your turn.

[ when her broken little tribute to an absent friend is finished, she'll be searching out her injured pirate (wherever he may be convalescing) and it's off to good spirits, where she can be found working a shift behind the bar. ]

Comments

[all7seas]

Yes -- caramel in the beard tails. Caramel in the mustache. Caramel caramel caramel.

[herotypical]

Playing pretend -- even playing the austere nursemaid -- was an improvement over her earlier detachment. Buffy had spent a good long while hiding in the newly-emptied bedroom. Not quite wallowing in her sadness but certainly simmering in it. Stealing Jack home gave her something else to focus on.

She plugged in the hot air popper and made a simple can't-mess-it-up honey glaze over one of the burners. Buffy stood near the stove as she waited and worked, leeching up its warmth despite the fact that the rest of the house wasn't all that chilled to begin with.

Dipping her head now and then, she checked on him and his messy progress -- allowing perhaps just a quirk or two at the corner of her mouth.

"Not long now," she promised him as the popper shut off and she carefully drizzles honey and salt into every freshly popped nook and cranny.

[all7seas]

"Darling? That smells like popped divinity."

[herotypical]

Her head popped below the bottom line of the cupboards outlining the peek-through's top border. "Have you picked a flick? Or will I have to do that for you, too?"

And she was gone -- her disappearance followed hard upon by the sound of silverware on ceramic. Coffee.

[all7seas]

"Something adventuresome? And romantical?"

There. The apple was gone, and now his fingers were sticky.

"Also, you're going to have to wash me, woman."

[herotypical]

Buffy wasted time lining up her tray just so. Both mugs to the right, a spare spoon between them. One big bowl of popped popcorn -- absolutely shareable and bound to invite many a knuckle-brushing. Jack had been right enough, for the whole thing smelled heavenly. Her culinary clumsy and the last tablespoons of his wild honey, married together into a fine excuse for an afternoon on the couch.

Eventually, she walked the negligible distance from the kitchen door to the living room coffee table. Buffy nudged the tray onto the table and took the shortcut -- a hop -- over his legs to get to the other side of the couch. That was where she found the narrow shelf where their eclectic collection of DVDS were kept.

"Nothing new there. Washing you is practically like a second job," she murmured, distracted, as she flipped through the booklet of discs.

[all7seas]

"Mmmhmmm." Jack grabbed a handful of popcorn. "It's a highly important job, really."

[herotypical]

"It's a highly messy job. Not to mention lacking in discretion."

Flip. Flip flip flip. "Next time, we're having an en-suite. Bed-and-bath combo."

Next time. A lofty request/promise from a woman who'd practically let herself get bombed less than a week ago.

[all7seas]

"Next time?"

[herotypical]

"...Mission Impossible?" She tapped a disk -- outright ignoring his inquisitive echo. "Or Bravehe--no. That won't do."

Too bloody. Too warlike. Too much like last week.

[all7seas]

Jack drummed up a piratical sneer. "Right! Show us this Impossible Mission, lassie! And I'll show you a mission Captain Jack Sparrow could easily complete!"

The bravado masked a twinge of pain that was slowing down to a dull throb with those handy pain pills.

"And hurry it up, I need cuddles!"

[herotypical]

"Tom Cruise it is. I'm afraid it's not the most, uh, romantic. But there are daring heists."

She snagged the DVD with her index finger and pulled it out of the holder. "And you're only getting cuddles if you leave some of that popcorn for me."

[all7seas]

"Promise. I won't eat it all, darling!" He licked the evidence from his fingers and put on an angelic expression.

[herotypical]

She knelt before the flimsy entertainment stand and popped open the DVD player's tray, nudging the disc into place and taking an additional moment of solitude. He was being just the right balance of sweet ans sassy and self-indulgent. It was almost normal. Almost not at all like her best friend had just disappeared. Like they'd both nearly been bombed.

She exhaled.

"I think you'll like it," she nodded back at the tv after standing. Soon, she found the perfect position snuggled up against his good arm.

[all7seas]

"C'mere." There -- that was cozy. Secure-feeling, like the other side of a hurricane. Now maybe they could forget together for a good hour or so.

"I think you're right, love."

[herotypical]

As secure as Jack felt, she was still trapped in those high winds and jilting seas. Hurricane-bound. But perhaps she could see the other side, sharing his warmth and being reminded of his life. It was no good to simply feel her own pulse; she needed someone else's.

Buffy nudged her feet up onto the coffee table, bending her knees ever so slightly. And she fiddled with the remote.

"I don't want you getting any ideas, though..."

[all7seas]

"Hmmm? Ideas?"

But soon enough the first of the ideas started: Jack, humming at first quietly under his breath, and then a bit more loudly along with the opening credits:

"Bum bum bum bum BUM BUM bum bum bum bum BUM BUM..."

[herotypical]

Iconic, really. Familiar. And although the music spoke of adventure and dramatics, it was a kind so very removed from her own past work. By degrees, she breathed a little easier.

Quietly -- helpfully -- she pointed out actors. Named them. Or most of them. It was disappointing when she found herself drawing this or that blank. Away too long.

But there was one name that was unforgettable: "Cruise," she tapped Jack's shoulder and reached for a handful of popcorn. "Tom Cruise."

[all7seas]

"Like a cruise ship," he pointed out. Helpful. Winding.

"Like your DiCaprio's Titanic. I like her. The dark-haired one. Lovely."

[herotypical]

"I like her dress," Buffy countered. And it was just her style, wasn't it? So off-the-shoulder. Almost diaphanous.

But when people began to die, she cleared her throat and hemmed and hawed and "Have you been to Prague, Jack?" Speaking over their deaths. "Does look like that? Really?"

[all7seas]

Hang on a sec, Buffy. Hold that thought.

"Sarah dies?!"

[herotypical]

...She winced.

"Sarah dies. Other people die. It's--" motivating "--just watch."

Buffy chomped down on some popcorn.

[all7seas]

Oh, Jack watched. And watched. And winced when he saw Ethan, alone, last of his loyal crew. All gone.

And then:

"Bugger! Their cabinet of fish wonders certainly did just explode, didn't it?"

[herotypical]

"Well -- duh. Couldn't you see it coming a mile away?"

The actiony bits provided the best respite. Running, jumping, blowing things up. All the things that keep you from feeling...

From feeling exactly what Ethan must feel, not that the running and jumping and blowing things up was done. And the making sense part of the problem reared its ugly head.

[all7seas]

"Oi! He's being a bit rough on her, isn't he?"

Ethan was very busy tackling his teammate to the bed after frisking her down.




Actually, it kind of reminded Jack of how Buffy had treated him on more than one occasion. Before. Before all the courtship and dating and such.