Who:
samianscar &
girl_unlockingWhen: Just after this conversation.
Where: The alley of horror.
Format: Action.
What: Dawn's had some changes. Knows some things about Spike.
Warnings: Angst. Language. Tears. Bitchiness?
(
Here the memories come in waves / Raking in the lost and found of years )
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Whatever. That's not the issue.
The issue is, for the moment, the dark, questioning and fairly accusatory look she gives him before breaking the silence.]
What are you doing? Why are you back here?
[Making me face you. Making me talk to you. You're going to make me ask you and (not now Spike) I don't want to know.]
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Well… probably something to the tune of you may not want be alone at a murder scene-no, you may want to, but maybe shouldn't; with a theme of it's of someone we both liked, and a chorus of it's a murder scene, in the city where such things tend to go in rounds.
[Are they falling into patterns? And is he being Buffy in them?!]
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I'm fine.
[Looks down. Blood on her shoes. No. Looks back up.]
And I'm not really in the mood for a chorus, or a tune, or any kind of spontaneous musical combustion [yeah, she remembers that now. Interesting, maybe, because she didn't before.]. Unless it's instrumental. Maybe a solo, huh?
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Don't give me that "Fine." You couldn't possibly be fine. None of us are fine. It's Riza. Why are you even...
[--register--]
...Hang on.
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Fine, then.
No. I'm not fine. You're right. Go you.
Did you ever think that maybe I want to be by myself? That maybe I can take care of myself for a couple of hours without...
Ugh.
Just ...go back to fighting the good fight or solving crime or whatever the hell it is you do, anymore.
[There's hurt beneath this, a fearful glance for just a moment before she looks away.]
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Dawn. What's happened?
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[No sooner does she spit that out - the guilt follows, fast on her heels. And then the sickness that comes in waves that just don't stop.]
Riza died here. I just left her. Her...
...body. W-with ...Colonel Mustang.
She wasn't even heavy to carry, you know? I wonder if I should have moved Tara. If I could have lifted her off the floor. Put her on the bed or...
[Her head is in her hands now, and she's turning away.]
Please go.
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He looks hard at her for a few minutes. Scents the air, takes in the surroundings. Waits for any different sign from her, which doesn't come.
And with a similar flaprustle, he does as she asks and is gone.]
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