Rupert Giles (guyles) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2013-06-06 20:02:00 |
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Entry tags: | !network post, jenny calendar, rupert giles |
Who: Rupert Giles and Jenny Calendar
When: [backdated] June 5, 2013
Where: Jenny's Apartment
What: A reunion
Rating: low / in progress
There was a time, Rupert was certain of it, when death used to mean something. Granted, it wasn't in his world where bodies were taken over by demons infused with bloodlust or bacchanalian hatred of life. Some world where magic or rituals or perserverence and a witch on your side could bring someone back a haunted version of their past self. It obviously wasn't this world either. Giles had known that, Tara had been here, he had only needed to look across his shop to remember Anya hadn't stood so strong prior to here. But Giles had never seriously entertained the thought of Jenny Calendar returning to life--or never seriously dared to. In many ways, Jenny had been the love of his life, she was also the mirror of his death. Giles had been too wanton in his youth whatever had passed with Ethan or Deidre; he had been too closed off after that. Everyone since Jenny had wanted to run away from the danger in his life. Even now, he knew he loved her, had loved her, did love her, even if he only remembered how from a comic book. It didn't make it easier when she had appeared on the network, his heart had wanted to stop. She was there, bright as ever while his own star had waned half a decade. Giles had been a rock for years, supporting his slayer and her scoobies, and countless other slayers since, financially, emotionally, professionally. In part that he would never have to see to his own facade. He wanted to go to her, as much as he didn't want to tell her He had left the shop, and the inventory to be accounted for tomorrow morning and hurried home, along the way buying roses--pink ones. He reflexively shied away from the red variety, and shwarma from a street cart, there wasn't much else between Widdershins and the subway. Back at the tower, he stopped into his apartment for a jacket, and biscuits, and liquor, and tea--she'd need cups. Jenny had said she needed many things. Giles only needed to know she was real. Arms loaded, he made his way up a flight to her apartment. Her apartment. Not his. No champagne, no arias, no more surprises. Just Jenny. He convinced himself as much and knocked on her door. |