Walking Away

by Nikita

Copyright © 2003

death_by_garagedoor@yahoo.co.uk

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the great and powerful Joss.
Distribution: Forever Faith: http://mysticmuse.net/faith
The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
All others, please ask first.
Feedback: Yes please.
Spoilers: None.
Author's Notes: I’m ill. I should be asleep. Unfortunately when I lie down it becomes somewhat difficult to breathe. And not for the usual reason. *chuckles at lame joke* I'm ill. Humor me. Oh, and this is Buffy's POV by the way. Blame it on the ultra depressing episodes of Buffy and Angel I watched tonight.
Dedication: Sarah – I’m jealous as hell. Send me a postcard.
Pairing: Faith/Buffy

"Will you come back?"

The words sound like a scream in my head, shattering every particle of restraint I have tried so hard to hang onto. But she doesn't turn around. I think for a second that my voice has become lost in the air between us, and clearing my throat, I try to speak again.

"Will you come back?"

She doesn't flinch. Her body is rigid as she continues her task, putting pieces of clothing into her bag one by one, filing my hope away with them as she slowly clears the room. My hand strays to my neck and wraps around it tightly as it occurs to me that my voice is as loud as it has ever been. I have cried out for her many times. But she never heard me.

She tips the last drawer out onto her bed and continues to pile its contents into her bag. It takes every last shred of willpower I have not to fall to my knees and beg her not to leave me. I won't beg, I won't plead, I won't make her despise me.

My eyes are dry. I refuse to let tears out, the very action of crying an admission of what is really happening. That she is leaving. The only moisture I feel is in my mouth, blood from the gash my teeth have made in my lip. And still she does not turn.

Panic is rising inside me with every movement she makes. My body is tense, on edge, still grasping to that shrinking glimpse of hope that she will look at me. That she will smile, and tell me that it is all a sick joke, that she won't leave me. That she'll never leave me.

And then she'll pull me to her and tell me that she loves me. That it doesn't matter that I'm weak. That it doesn't matter how hard things get. She'll tell me that I'm worth... something. Anything.

I want to stand, stride over to her, kiss her, make her forget anything else exists. But my legs are shaking, my breathing non-existent.

She forces the zipper shut on her bag and stands motionless for a moment, and I wonder if her eyes are closed. I wonder what she feels, what she thinks, I wonder where she will go.

I never knew if it was too much or never enough. I don't think I'll ever know if I could have done something different, something to make her stay. I never wanted to trap her. I never wanted to put out the fire in her, the passion in her that I so admire. But I got scared.

I fell in love and I got scared.

So I asked her questions she didn't want to hear. I told her things she didn't want to deal with. It was never supposed to get so intense, but the passion grew faster than we could deal with.

I thought it was what she wanted. I thought the words that escaped my lips were what she wanted to hear. But perhaps it was only what I wanted to tell her. Perhaps I wasn't thinking about her at all.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe I am just selfish.

I look up quickly, dragged out of my thoughts as she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

"Faith!" I blurt out.

She pauses, her hand reaching for the door handle. Still she does not turn.

"Faith..." I say again, softer this time. There is nothing I can say. Nothing I know how to say. Everything sounds like a cliché in my head.

At my lack of words, she opens the door and closes it firmly behind her.

I could run, but there would be no point. I could cry, but it would make no difference. Instead I turn to the window and watch the rain begin to fall. I see her walking away, her head high, her stride confident.

And I think that perhaps she never cared. But it doesn't matter, all I have is the feeling inside me. I press my hand to the glass and close my eyes.

"I love you."

But alone in the room, even that doesn't matter anymore.

The End

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