Work Text:
Sheila didn’t intend to follow him, of course. She isn’t that pathetic, clinging to his feet like an errant child. It’s rather an accident instead. Boom – a simple set of phrases spoken incorrectly, a simple trip at the wrong time and in the wrong place. And here Sheila is, annoyed with the way time works, once again.
Ash took it in stride; he took most things in stride, but the fact that Sheila had appeared out of nowhere and decided to wreck his plans to become some sort of famous-in-his-own time hero. Sheila didn’t hesitate to speak the truth about everything he really had done back in her time period. Including trying to run out on her and her entire community.
“You wouldn’t understand, baby,” Ash said. “Man stuff.”
“Is that what you call running for your life after setting the apocalypse upon us?”
They worked it out in the bedroom. And out of it. Sometimes.
All of their colleagues were fairly interesting people with good senses of humor. Anthony the Stockboy never flinched when she talked about the horrors of possession. They knew when to hide every time a Deadite showed up. And they didn’t get in the way when Sheila made the charge to stand beside Ash.
She was also adapting well to being a Deadite killer. The swift shock of a sword to a tendon; the roll of a decapitated head, splashing blood upon her skirts; the shriek of a wretched soul threatening to kill Sheila and take her to hell with it – she was becoming immune to the horrors of it all. She had leaned how to be brave, thanks to Ash.
Now all she needed to do was hold on and wait for Ash to produce a ring. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be too much longer now.
All she had to do was have faith.