Lamplight

[JujuDeRoussie]

hello!

just



thank you... still affraid of the things coming up behindall of this though...

can't wait for more

Julia

[db]

Hello your glorious Watty-ness!

You aand K were discussing my feedback? In a good way I hope? (...and yes my thumbs, but not like *that* ya perve... believe it or not I did the fb on my fancy new phone *puffs out chest*. "It looks like a poptart, it talks like a telephone"!)

Speaking of which, feedback:

Willow is honing in at work on a nebulous something (badness I predict) with Wilkins... probably with her boss hand-breaky man too. Wilkins *is* a slippery weasle... and ok, if I am right about that then sue me -- but I think he is bad news. Something is not right with his money dealings and I think it is sneaky and that Willow should keep her distance -- it is scaring me. Especially since Tara *works* for the guy. He has *so* much to hold over both of their heads .

...and *of course* Tara's job stuff was going to come up again. How could it *not* with Tara and all the folk ogling. I think it is different than being jugemental or even classist - when you are in love like they are, it would be really hard to sit by knowing that your love was being objectified that way... *I* think. Anyway, I think Willow did a good job of communicating her feelings & I am glad that she a) didn't let her feelings fester and b) that Tara both acknowledged it and is (apparently) well aware of the drinking issue and protective of Will that way.

So yay for this update -- 'cause even though I know that some sort of dastardly Wilkins stuff is undoubtably coming down the line (come *on* he got dead Spike's Glam Cat for $1?!)... Willow is starting to hone in on it! ...and *also* she and Tara have made huge emotional progress.

It seemed like this update had an over-reaching theme about maintianing focus on what is important. In both the descriptions of Willow's work, and on her and Tara's relationship, the update had this subtle juxtaposition that can distilled into -- focus on what's important - in work, in love and life.

smooches.

db

[Kaia]

Hi, watty

Ok, so you really did show off, hehe. Excellent.
What really caught my eye about this update is the way Tara reacted to Willow's "jealousy". I never would have dreamed, in the beginning of this story, that Tara would have been so considerate towards Willow's feelings like that. I mean...it is absolutely understandable that Willow doesn't want to see her beloved treated like some piece of meat by the patrons of the club but it *is* Tara's job after all and it has been since before they got together.
Guess what I'm trying to say is that I totally expected Tara to get angry at Willow for her reaction and was really pleased when she not only didn't get angry but was so understanding and supportive of her partner.
It shows how your characters have grown/evolved and it gives great hope for their future together (even if I'm still waiting to see what will go wrong next, hehe).
So color me a happy kitten. Again, a rather short but greatly written update.

ETA: ok, so it wasn't *technically* short, but it felt short 'cause you're a wonderful writer and you left me craving for more?

[JustSkipIt]

Watty - again with the badness/goodness updates. I mean this one wasn't so much badness as suspicion and bad things coming... But...

At the end, I was totally impressed with both Willow's rush of honesty and Tara's acceptance of the same. I think that months earlier, she would have been all call the bouncer and you don't own me and crap like that. But they just seem so settled into loving each other. Maybe she can see that if Willow can accept things about her, she can start to accept Willow too.

Love it and still feeling icky in my tummy...

[tarawhipped]

I'm with everybody else on the "go Willow for being honest without being verbally judgmental/yay Tara for not getting defensive" train. When Tara narrowed her eyes, I really thought she was going to say something more along the lines of 'if you can't be supportive and trust me, don't come here.' I'm so glad they seem to have moved past that. Now maybe they can focus on the less gropey but potentially bigger bad goings-on at Willow's job. What the heck is Wilkins up to, and more importantly, is Willow getting involved in something shady, or is the fact that she's just moving his money okay, regardless of how he came by it? Darnit, all this financial stuff is making my head hurt. Maybe I'll have Ang read this and explain why I should or shouldn't be nervous.

Thanks for ending this one on the happy, "let's go home and snuggle" goodness. That's two in a row!
-Cam

[Niko]

That is one great story. I can't wait to read your update. I think it will be today

[Chummy]

Hey Watty were is our fix for this week. I hope every thing is ok with you.

[Artemis]

I was really impressed by that moment when Willow let her insecurity out, and Tara absorbed it, and it didn't turn into the cliche fight that it could have. I actually found that quite... not exactly 'mature', but something like it, on both their parts. Neither of them are serene above-it-all beings who're beyond being affected on a pure emotional level by issues like this - Willow by the notion of Tara dancing for other people, Tara by Willow being upset and jealous - but even though Willow just blurted it out, I got a sense from her, as well as Tara (who was the more obviously thoughtful of the two there) that she has a level of trust in Tara. When it finally comes to it, her asking Tara to leave with her feels more like a confession than a demand - she's not so much asking something of Tara as apologising for her own inability to not be bothered. And likewise from Tara, it's difficult to say exactly what her reaction bodes, but there seemed to be an acceptance of the olive branch Willow extended to her - even though (as she said) they've talked about this, I got the sense that there's a long, honest conversation in the immediate future, and Tara's intent isn't just to lay down the law to Willow a la "This is my job, deal with it," but to sincerely get into what Willow's feelings stem from, and try to fix them - perhaps by looking at herself, not just Willow.

Anyway... I know that's just picking on one tiny bit of the chapter, but that final few lines really struck me with a lot of weight, for want of a better word.

[EmeraldArcher]

watty,

I have been quietly following this story since it began, and finally decided to wade in with a bit of feedback (hope to leave more detailed remarks later) as it seemed only right to tell you how much I have enjoyed the story so far.

I have to say that I have had a difficult time 'liking' Tara, that she has been very rude and harsh at times, so much so that I almost flinched. Willow's bewilderment of this Tara echoed my own. As bits and pieces of Tara's world have been revealed, however, I have taken a step back and re-examined her remarks and reactions and said, "ahhh..."

I like how they have slowly come together. There is that initial surge of desire and lust, but that they waited and then gave in seemed much more in character to where they are in their lives now.

I am waiting patiently for you to continue... and I will leave better feedback as soon as I can. Thanks for writing and sharing!

EA

[sacinema]

Amazing update. Like all the others before. Sorry, for not leaving FB in a long time. I'm a bad, bad kitten .

Thank god. Tara looses her shell with each update. She seems to trust in Willow and their mutual feelings more and more. For one moment I really feared she would fall back into old habits. But she seemed to understand Willow's feelings. I do, too. Nevertheless I do think Willow has to overcome these feelings. It could lead to a lot trouble of between them.

But the empending doom looks around another corner. Come on Willow, you have to investigate your gut feelings. Wilkins is up to no good, it seems. I hope this will not lead to anything bad between our heroines.

Thanks for the story. I love it.

[MiniShrink]

Lovely so far, though I have a question: how come we haven't seen much of Tara's law degree she claims to be taking on the side?

[WillowRulez]

Oh, I didnt reply!
Just loved the update. They really need that kind of honesty and it was about time that Tara let Willow know that she worries about her drinking. Please update soon :( I really need some cheering up

[Zampsa1975]

Excellent story! Update-y goodness soon pleeease

[watty]

Honestly, and I'm saying this with a mixture of shame and defiance, I stopped posting because I was disappointed with the level of responses. But it has been pointed out that I'm being self-absorbed and egomaniacal (well, they used nicer words but the meaning is the same) so let me try again.

To Sara, Julia, db, Karinna, Debra, Cam, Niko, Chummy, Chris, EmeraldArcher, sacinema, MiniShrink, WillowRulez and Zampsa1975, thanks for your comments, I really appreciate it.

Since there are 6 chapters to catch up, I'll post 3 today and 3 tomorrow. Saturday will be back to the planned schedule.

[hr]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.

Additional notes: a step by step guide to brewing vietnamese coffee.
Additional notes 2: Impossible is Nothing was a prime example of how not to apply for a job. You almost have to be a banker or someone with Arrogance Street Cred to appreciate (and mock, and laugh at) this.


Part 22

Tara reached over the sleeping form of her lover and glanced quickly at her bedside clock before picking up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Tara. This is Kate Lockley."

"Detective Lockley, good morning."

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"You weren't to know, it's 9 o'clock already."

"I'm sorry to call you on a Saturday, but I didn't want to call you at work. Do you have some free time today or tomorrow?"

Tara thought for an instant. This weekend was no different from any time she had free -- wake up with Willow, spend the day with Willow, make love with Willow all night.

"Yes, should be fine. Do you want to speak to me about something?"

"I'd rather wait till we see each other. How about this morning? 10-ish? You name the place."

"Let's make it 11. Willow is at reflexology, then we're meeting for lunch," Tara smiled. She had just outed herself to Detective Lockley, but instead of dread, she felt free. "Have you tried Vietnamese coffee? I'll meet you at Pho's -- Mott just south of Canal next to the Golden Orchid Restaurant."

She could hear Detective Lockley smiling even over the phone. "You sure know the way to a girl's heart, Tara. Coffee it is."

Tara told Willow about the meeting but neither could come up with a good reason, especially given the detective's secrecy. They didn't dwell on the matter though. After a leisurely breakfast they made their way to Union Square market for some cheese and bread, then Willow went to her reflexology appointment in Chinatown. Pho's cake and coffee shop was just across the street, it was where Tara usually waited, sipping the exquisite Vietnamese coffee and reading a newspaper. She smiled at how domestic that was and how easily they fit into a routine together.

Detective Lockley looked even more worn out than last time they met. Law enforcement didn't have the glamor it was portrayed on television.

She folded the New York Times carefully and placed it on the chair next to her. "Detective Lockley."

"It's Kate. Detective Lockley was my father," Kate said as she slipped into the seat and involuntarily stretched to relax her back.

"Oh. Your father is in the police too?" Tara repeated, and blushed at the obvious question.

Kate's breath caught for a moment. "Was. He was killed in the line of duty. LAPD."

"I'm so sorry." Tara hated saying words like these, they seemed so pointless and never fully conveyed how sad she felt.

"That was his wish. He didn't want to die in a hospital from liver disease or cancer. The old bastard wanted his last breath to be taken with badge in one hand and gun in the other. Not a bad way to go." There was no bitterness in Kate's voice, only sadness tinged with pride.

Tara desperately wanted to change the topic, but elected to be silent.

"So, Vietnamese coffee? I didn't even know the Vietnamese had coffee. Is that it? Looks mighty strange," Kate nodded at the glass cup in front of Tara. At the bottom was a thick creamy paste and balanced on top was a small metal cylinder with a lid. Droplets of dark liquid dripped from the bottom of the cylinder into the glass, settling on top of the cream but never disturbing it.

Tara waved to the waiter and stuck up one finger to make the order. "Watching the coffee drip through is a great test of patience, but the result is sublime."

Kate peered curiously at the ensemble. "What's that at the bottom?"

"Condensed milk. It's wicked sweet on its own, but the coffee is strong and bitter -- you can imagine the combined effect," Tara explained.

"I think I'm going to like this," Kate said, leaning back into her chair with an audible sigh.

The waiter brought her coffee and assorted paraphernalia. The glass was about one-fifth filled with thick condensed milk, and he rested the metal filter on top. Lifting the lid, he dramatically poured hot water from a worn metal kettle. The rest of the water went into a small jug placed at the side of the glass. It took a good thirty seconds before the coffee started dripping onto the milk.

Tara waited for Kate to start the real conversation but the detective seemed intent on watching her coffee make itself. Tara's coffee was done, and she sighed appreciatively as the first taste of the bitter brew permeated through the froth at the top, followed by the syrupy sweet aftertaste of the milk.

"How long have you been working for Richard Wilkins?" Kate asked abruptly.

Taken aback at the suddenness of the question, it took Tara a few seconds to react and answer. "Almost seven years."

"Would you say he is an upright citizen?" Kate continued, her gaze still on the coffee.

"It's not for me to judge, especially not my employer." Tara's diplomacy quickly returned. "Is there something wrong?"

"Over ninety percent of email traffic is spam, and child pornography is the fastest growing sector of internet crime," Kate muttered.

Tara was used to Willow's often disjointed babbling, but coming from someone other than her lover confused her. "Are you alright, Det--um Kate?"

"I'm a vice cop; I've seen human nature at its most despicable, most brutal. But the sheer magnitude and organization of internet crime is horrifying. And the astounding amount of easy profit ..." Kate trailed off, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not making the connection."

"In the course of my current investigation, your employer's name came up," Kate said carefully.

Tara was instantly alert. "Is this off the record?" she asked uneasily. "Are you trying to tip him off through me?"

"No. You got the wrong end of the stick. You seem like a decent person, Tara. No offense but working vice for as long as I have, I get cynical. I hope you're nothing like him," Kate said.

"What are you implying?"

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry, I'm really unbalanced. This case is killing me. My bosses are laying into me. It's a big fucking mess. I'm asking you, yes off the record, to keep a lookout on what's going on," Kate said.

"You want me to spy on my boss?"

"May be it's him, may be it's someone or a group."

"And what am I supposed to be watching out for?" Tara stiffened.

Kate ran her fingers through her hair. "That's the problem. I don't know."

"So you tell me my boss is being investigated for presumably illegal activities, which you can't tell me about. Then you turn around and tell me that actually, you have no basis for your allegations? Still, you want me to snoop on him? Just for the hell of it?" Tara bristled. It was a bad idea to meet Kate at this café. Willow was supposed to meet her here; if she walked out on the detective, which was all she wanted to do at the moment, she would still have to remain in the vicinity. Defeated the purpose of storming out.

"I'm telling you, someone in your organization has their hands in dirty business. You may want to think harder about where your loyalties lie; and whatever you do, watch your back," Kate sounded like she was trying to apologize or warn her.

"I think you should leave now," Tara said curtly.

Kate made an exasperated sound. "I -- look, you have my number if you need to contact me."

"Don't count on it."

Kate took a last look at her still-dripping coffee as she stood up. "What a shame, I would have liked to try this coffee."

Tara watched her walk out without looking back, and hated her for ruining her peaceful day. She tried to make sense of Kate's cryptic words, but was left wanting.

*****

Although Tara told her about the strange conversation with Kate Lockley, Willow didn't immediately associate the detective's allegations about Richard Wilkins with the goings-on in his account.

Over the next few weeks there was little activity in his account. Her other accounts were doing spectacularly and as the first quarter closed, her name was at its usual spot at the top of the Top 5 board.

She was in the middle of planning a research trip to London when Wilkins called to make a personal appointment to meet in her office next morning. She debated whether to involve Patrick, but her professional ego decided that she could resolve whatever issues herself.

It was when he produced a check for two million dollars for deposit into his account that alarm bells started ringing off the hook. The warning notes rose to a noisy cacophony when he asked for several smaller amounts totaling almost the same amount to be wired to various destinations, including Albania, as soon as the funds cleared. She explained, once again, that Albania was on a watchlist of high risk countries and such transactions needed to be reported.

"To whom?" he asked.

"Our Compliance department and FinCEN, the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network," she replied.

His eyebrows shot up. "Crimes enforcement?"

"More like prevention. Their concern is money laundering and use for terrorism purposes," she explained.

"I'm not a terrorist!" he huffed indignantly, "how dare you?" at the tip of his tongue.

"No, but they want to be in a position to spot these activities. I'm sorry, Mr Wilkins, I am bound by Treasury rules to file a report," she said with as much finality as she could muster.

"But it's just a mass of form filling isn't it?" he pointed out. "If, let's pick a worst case scenario ... if my company gets audited will these reports come under extra scrutiny?"

"Well, if the audit is for your company, it doesn't really related to you. The authorities are more likely to look carefully at the company's finances. But I'm not an expert on this area, I recommend that you talk to a legal advisor or a forensic accountant," she said.

He told her to go ahead, and was willing to pay any extra fees. She reiterated that it wasn't the fees that was bothering her, it was the procedure and making sure they were compliant.

His reaction was at first dismissive, but as she asked him more questions on the wires, he grew agitated. Would she preferred that he took his business elsewhere? Or spoke with her superiors directly? Their conversation remained just one side of affable throughout, but when he started to allude to his disappointment at her incompetence and wondering aloud as to how stuffy bankers would react to one of their own being involved with someone who worked in a club, her cordial façade cracked.

"Actually the notoriety will bolster my reputation, Mr Wilkins. We bankers work hard and play hard, otherwise establishments like yours will probably not do as well," she said thinly.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Well, we are always thinking of new ways of generating publicity." He paused and made a show of having an idea. "Say, Willow, can I give you top billing in the next 'Impossible is Nothing' video, starring you and Tara demonstrating various forms of, ahem, embrace?"

Her hands slammed sharply on the yellow writing pad in front of her. She clenched and unclenched her fists and answered as evenly as she could, "I hardly think it's riveting viewing."

He fixed a still, long look at her. "Do you really want to risk it?"

Her eyes were dark. "Leave her out of this."

He grinned smugly at her.

Her shaking didn't subside until the end of the day, and only after she buried herself in pounding out an extensive research document that would normally take three days to complete.

When she finally packed up to go home, she still had no idea what to tell Tara.

*****
[br]

[watty]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.


Part 23

They watched wordlessly as the glass sailed through the air in slow motion, its contents tracing a wide arc like a wild stroke made by an artist through a canvas of air, droplets of water seemed to hover momentarily in the air before falling helplessly as they couldn't resist the pull of gravity. It happened so quickly, neither had time to reach out to stop the fall.

The sound of glass breaking on the tiled floor brought them back to reality.

Tara was still staring, wild-eyed. Willow had already jumped up and ran into the kitchen. Within seconds she was back and started to sweep the shards into a dustpan.

Tara reached out to take the dustpan out of Willow's hands. "Let me do it, you're not wearing shoes."

"It's okay, I'm fine." Willow showed no sign of relinquishing control over the dustpan.

"Will."

"I said, I got it," Willow snapped.

Tara was taken aback at the brusqueness of Willow's reaction but it wasn't completely unexpected. They had both been edgy the last few days; Tara after the unsettling meeting with Kate Lockley and Willow ... something was bothering Willow at work but she hadn't told Tara. Every time Tara broached the subject it was either ignored or downplayed, to the point that Willow refused to talk about it.

"Fine," Tara said. If her lover wanted to be in a pissy mood, she wasn't going to add fuel to fire.

"Yeah, fine. Finey mcfine. Everything's fine," Willow muttered.

Tara retreated to the couch and picked up her laptop -- she had an assignment due next week. "Just don't get any glass fragments on your feet. Blood's impossible to clean off tiles," she snipped.

Willow looked up sharply, a brief flash of anger in her eyes. Tara regretted the sting in her words, but it was either push Willow's buttons or passively watch her lover indulge in a big dose of 'woe-is-me'. The redhead in question opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right retort.

Tara sat cross-legged on the couch and settled the laptop on her lap, but her eyes never left Willow's. She wasn't challenging her lover as reminding her she wasn't oblivious to the fact that Willow was being tempestuous and nothing would be solved by bottling up troubled thoughts.

In other words, she wanted to know what was making Willow behave like a jerk.

Willow knew Tara was hurt and worried. She didn't tell her about the encounter with Wilkins because she didn't know what to make of it. Belatedly she thought back at what Detective Lockley had told Tara and came to the conclusion that she was in over her head. She sought counsel from Patrick but was told to "just do it" -- an odd expression on his face hinted that he was under immense pressure to deliver results and failure wasn't an option.

She felt like she, Patrick and perhaps even the Bank itself was under threat by powerful political forces. Powerful, dark, forces.

Some covert digging and a few well-placed phone calls later and she had a thin folder of scattered information. Pulling the tiny amount of hard facts and a bunch of half-truths together into a semblance of sense took the best part of two days. She read and re-read her findings several times, only her sense of proprietary and twisted curiosity stopping her from shredding the whole file.

By that time it was too late to tell Tara.

She finished sweeping the glass off the floor and padded back to the kitchen to deposit them in a sturdy container. It perturbed her that her mind associated the fall and breakage of a water glass with how quickly her life's focus had changed over the course of a few days. It had been a wonderful three months with Tara. Nothing stood between them, only love. She would always treat this time as the most special in her life.

She knew she deserved Tara's sarcastic jibe about the cut glass; she had been distant and impatient, not to mention downright rude lately. That Tara was confused about the cold shoulder was understandable. She couldn't put it off any longer. Time to talk.

She walked slowly to the living room. Her instinct was to join Tara on the couch but she deliberately circled around and stood next to an armchair facing the couch. "I put the bits of glass in the cereal box, it's almost finished so I just put the inner bag on the counter."

"Uh huh."

"I'll take it out to the trash later."

"Uh huh."

"Do we, er, need to dispose of it separately?"

"There's a glass recycle bin."

Tara wasn't making any of this easy. Willow sat down at the edge of the armchair, to tense to lean back.

"My feet are okay."

"Good."

Tara hadn't looked up during this exchange, ostensibly clicking on her laptop. Only the slight tremor in her shoulders betraying the fact that she wasn't paying attention to what was on her screen.

Willow nervously rubbed her hands together, trying to steer the conversation in the direction she wanted, but dreaded, to go.

"I talked to Richard Wilkins last week," she tried again.

"He's your client, that's to be expected, no?"

"Where does he get all his money?"

Tara looked up and made an exasperated sound. "Will, you know as well as I that nobody knows. He doesn't tell us about it; nor is he obliged to."

Willow couldn't stay seated any longer. She jumped up and began pacing. "It's highly irregular."

Tara finally put the laptop aside and focused on Willow. "What's wrong?"

"I had some concerns about a series of transactions he wanted to put through, and we had a heated discussion that ended with him making some veiled threats. About us."

"What sort of threats? And why didn't you tell me about this?"

"That he'd expose us; he hinted at having a video."

Tara spread her hands. "Of what? More importantly, who will he show it to that can hurt us? It's not like we're celebrities."

Willow stopped pacing and shrugged. "That's kinda what I told him, but he looked damned smug! I had to do the wires, but I think I'm no longer on his Christmas list."

"Will it hurt your professional standing? If you were to lose his business?" Tara said patiently.

"I don't know. He has too many powerful friends," Willow looked away and started pacing again while Tara looked on. "There's more."

Tara looked calm as she waited for Willow to continue. Willow tried to script several sentences in her head, but it soon gave her a headache. Her back was turned against Tara at that instant. "Between this and what Kate Lockley told you about him, I did some digging into his business affairs. Why didn't you tell me you have co-signatory rights to some of his companies?"

"What?!"

"I traced a group of shell companies back to him that due diligence didn't get to. Cayman Islands, Luxembourg, Macau -- some of them list you as a co-owner."

"I don't understand," Tara sounded puzzled, which almost made Willow hesitate before making her next revelation.

"I found transactions made through these companies on your authority. You get paid handsomely by them, very handsomely."

Willow turned back to face Tara, and found her pale and shocked. "I don't understand," Tara repeated. "I have no knowledge of these. Paid? Paid where?"

"Your signature is everywhere," Willow said flatly.

"I signed a lot of papers when I first joined. They said they're confidentiality agreements and the like," Tara frowned.

"Are you sure?"

Tara shook her head. "I don't know, I was young and clueless. God, this is unbelievable. Anything else you discovered while snooping?"

"That's all so far. Tara, believe me, I wasn't trying to implicate you." Willow sighed. "It's just, there's still so much I don't know about you or your job. You're involved in quote unquote the business side, but you're not like Lilah Morgan or Alan Finch, who have definable roles. Everyone tells me that you have special access to the boss. What was I to think?"

Tara was speechless and could do little else than sit stone still and stare at Willow with unbelieving wide eyes. Willow was leaning stiffly against the bar, her voice having gradually raised in timbre until it was almost accusatory.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sounds of their breathing.

Tara's shoulders slumped and she let out a resigned breath. "Did you hear what you're saying? After all we've been through, is there no trust between us?"

Willow looked away. "I didn't know what to think. You don't know about these shell companies?" At Tara's vehement shake of her head she continued, "And these payments into offshore accounts?"

"No! I save all my bank statements, you can look through the lot."

"Let me think." Willow turned contemplative as thoughts and scenarios whizzed through her brain. One pre-requisite of being a trader was the need to think quickly on her feet; and to come to, and have the bravery to act on, conclusions based on not knowing the full picture. Very often all she had to trust was her gut feelings. "You're being used as a front, that's best case. Worst case is you're being set up to take the rap in case something goes wrong."

Tara could only repeat "I can't believe it" several times.

Willow came to sit on the couch, but kept a chasm of two feet between them. "Tell me about the Suite."

Tara's stomach flipped. This was the one thing she had tried to avoid telling Willow. The one secret in her life. "I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Tara's voice was small and haunted. "It doesn't matter. If you trust me, or love me the way you say you do, then it won't matter. I don't want to bring it up again."

"I -- I need to know," Willow pleaded. She wanted to reach out to Tara, but she couldn't.

Tara was shaking. "No," she choked.

"This goes all the way back to when you were in Sunnydale, doesn't it? What happened? Is there something you're hiding?" Willow knew she was pushing now.

Tara couldn't stop shaking, and all she wanted was to curl up into a small ball. Willow knew she was close to, or perhaps had treaded over a fine line that would make Tara hate her forever. But she couldn't stop. It would kill her if she didn't ask the unspoken question that had lain dormant in her mind, ever since she found Tara again. "Tara, did he ever touch you?"

*****
[br]

[watty]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.


Part 24

"Tara, did he ever touch you?"

Tara visibly flinched at Willow's question, as if the words physically walked up and slapped her across the face. She saw Willow reach out to place a hand on her knee, and she shrunk back into the couch to avoid the touch. "No. Don't make me go there."

"Did he, did he hurt you?" Willow whispered.

Tara's shaking was worse, and when Willow tried to reach out again she pushed her away. They sat there, frozen like statues, for an eternity.

"No." Tara's declaration was the sigh that shattered through the tightness that had wrapped around her heart. "He almost did, but I fought back. I was so scared."

And then she felt it. The rush of relief as the burden she had carried inside her for years finally crumbled. Was it shame or helplessness? Denial or disgust that made her box away the events that helped shape who she was? She straightened in her seat and took Willow's hands in hers. Time to face the past.

It started when she was told to deliver the documents to the client of the law firm. She struggled on foot to haul the heavy bankers boxes to the address given, City Hall as it turned out. A cocky dark-haired girl around her age met her at the reception and took her to a conference room. The girl didn't offer to help her with the boxes but walked behind Tara along a long narrow corridor. Later, she learnt that the girl's name was Faith and her ass had been given a thorough appraisal during the walk.

She tried to shrink into the walls when she entered the large function room with an imposing mahogany table in the center and flanked by dozens of chairs. The Mayor and his cohorts were busy making laws and thinking of means to squeeze more tax money from unsuspecting citizens. Aides were walking in and out, or working in clusters at the side. Tara had to stick around, since she had to wait for some of the documents to be signed back.

"Well come on, don't just stand there. Make yourself useful while you're here. Why don't you help young Alan there check the inventory," the Mayor looked Tara up and down and remarked. It was said kindly, and Tara felt less intimidated. Over the next few hours she helped out with various clerical tasks.

When the mayor heard that she had gotten into trouble with her supervisor because of how late she returned to the office, he made a personal appearance to vouch for her. The attention made her even more of an outcast in the mailroom. Shortly after, he asked for her to be seconded officially to City Hall as a junior assistant and there was no turning back. She was so grateful she cried all night in her tiny apartment. She wanted to tell Willow, but her friend's indifference last time they met had thrown her, and she didn't feel like anyone in the world cared about her anymore. Tears of joy turned into tears of loneliness that night. It was when she promised herself that she would make it big by herself, even if it meant going to any lengths.

She got used to Faith's crude scrutiny and off-color remarks quickly -- making sure she never gave the girl the chance to stare at her cleavage, not maintaining eye-contact, taking cover behind other colleagues. The girl, although young in age, was obviously the mayor's hired muscle and not to be crossed. Tara had lived in a semi-hostile environment at Aunt Marie's long enough to instantly recognize the hierarchy of command within the mayor's coterie. She, Tara, was in the basement car park.

The first time he made a move unnerved her. It was an imperceptible, almost gentle, caress along the length of her arm. One touch, up her wrist to her shoulder, then back down. Though to observers the mayor had simply accidentally bumped into her in a crowded elevator, she knew it was no fluke. It also didn't happen again, and she tried to brush the memory away.

When the offer, no -- command, came to move to New York, she jumped at the chance. The bustle of New York city excited her, but soon homesickness caught up, even though she had no real home. The only place she felt at home was when she was with Wi-- she swiftly buried that train of thought. She knew what his primary business was in New York, wasn't afraid to face it and was even able to find several thin strands of friendship within the dysfunctional club family.

One day several months later, Lilah Morgan sought her out and explained about the Suite. It was a promotion as well as recognition of talent and a job well-done. Staff on the floor vied for the opportunity to be invited up to the penthouse. But because of the sensitive nature of the work up there, new confidentiality agreements had to be put in place. Tara signed everything the lawyer placed in front of her and that night, dressed in a pale cream off-the-shoulder evening gown that had been delivered to her apartment and with her heart pounding out of control, she stepped into the elevator.

She had no illusions about what was about to transpire. Any lengths, she kept reminding herself.

He had her stand in the middle of his reception room while he walked a full circle around her, his eyes undressing her up and down. She stood very still, with hands clasped at her side as she had been instructed. He made a small sound of approval.

His hand on her bare shoulder was cold and she choked back a cry.

He stepped behind her and she felt him against the small of her back.

He traced his hands up both her arms in tandem, leaving a trail of goosebumps along her skin.

When he pushed her hair aside to nip her neck, she stiffened. Then she turned away.

His hands gripped her arms tight, bruising her as he tried to force her again. She squirmed and struggled even as he was trying to drag her to the bedroom.

She fought him hard. He was strong, but she was slippery. He had her pinned down, but she used her knees. He was determined to dominate her, but she never gave up.

Ultimately his strength was greater than her resilience. One tired and wrong move later, he held her down, his full weight crushing her resistance from her. Still she tried to pull away, but she had nothing left.

He slapped her roughly and ripped part of her dress, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Her eyes were still defiant, but she knew she had lost.

His eyes grew dilated and his mouth twisted in a grimace that made him look like a demon. With an animalistic cry of possession he leaned in --

-- and stopped.

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to breathe. She wanted to cry, but didn't dare make a sound. She was shaking inside, but only her lips trembled.

He rocked back and sat on the floor as if stupefied. Then slowly he took off his jacket, handed it to her and motioned for her to put it on. Without looking at her he climbed to his feet and stood with his back to her.

"If you ever say a single word to anyone about what happened, I will go after you. No one fights me, and those who do never get away with it. I expect ... no, I demand complete submission. Either obey me unconditionally or die. You are someone special, Tara. Now go."

She never knew why he stopped. He never gave a reason. But she knew that he would always have a hold on her; just as somehow she would always have a hold on him.

*****

"You're the strongest person I know," Willow said. "I think he sensed that."

Tara wiped the tears from her face. "I wasn't strong. Now I am, because I have you."

"You're already strong, and don't argue."

Tara felt drained. She had face a part of her past she had wanted gone, but it took a lot out of her. "I need you," she breathed. And then Willow's lips were on hers. She opened her mouth and invited Willow inside, to give her strength and the reassurance that yes, she was loved. Willow's tongue lovingly passed over every needy nerve, leaving her feeling thoroughly kissed. Willow didn't possess, she treasured; she didn't demand, she shared; and it helped banish the memories of those harrowing events.

There was still the issue of the signatories and the accounts. She broke off the satisfying kiss and burrowed herself into Willow's embrace. Her thoughts turned back to her employer. "I thought he was a good guy. Yes he had people in his pocket and he took away the innocence of countless girls, but I was willing to overlook that because in a twisted way we were a family. More so than my own flesh and blood. Now I think he took advantage of the silence."

"You're not responsible for others." Willow's eyes were full of sympathy, and she was slowly stroking Tara's back in consolation.

"I know I'm not the only one. But if more had resisted, had spoken up ..." Tara's fist slammed down on the couch as she thought about all that she had seen. Small rumors and tiny events that never seemed to be significant. It seemed to be his modus operandi, as it was only when she stepped back and looked at the full picture objectively that she realized how corrupted the enterprise was.

"He's very powerful," Willow pointed out.

Tara thought hard. "He has to be stopped."

"Yep, we should call the police."

"What can they do? There won't be any evidence."

"They'll find it somehow."

"No they won't. They don't know what they're looking for. But I do."

"You?"

"I have access to office files, if it's there I'll find them."

Willow took in Tara's determination. It was very different from the broken, sobbing mess earlier. And you were the one who pushed her to that, don't be so proud of yourself. "We go tonight?"

"Not we, me."

"Tara."

"You're an outsider, Will. It'll be suspicious. This is something only I can do, and don't argue."

Willow wanted to argue. It was dangerous. "What if you're discovered?"

"I'm in and out of the office all the time, it's nothing different."

"I'm sorry. For not telling you about his threat, for being an asshole, for not trusting you."

Tara paused. With so much that had occurred that night, their earlier argument had been forgotten. She stood up, leaving Willow still seated on the couch. "Well, make sure you think about what you need to repent, because you're due a big spanking. When I come back, you're going to be my slave all night because I'll need to be serviced," she said.

Willow's brain normally worked at superhuman speeds, but it immediately became addled and melted as she tried to reconcile "spanking" and "serviced" against the sudden onset of arousal and anticipation that cursed all through her body.

"Till tonight then," she managed to squeak out.

*****
[br]

[shiraz]

Hey Watty,

I delurked just for

I just wanted to tell you that I love this story - it' s one of the chosen few that I obsessively check for updates. The interactions between Willow and Tara when Wil first found her were heart breaking. Tara's behaviour was so foreign and intriguing - cold Tara. Never conceived of her, but I can totally see her getting mixed up and turned around and being completely loyal - even to (especially to?) the evil 'Richie Cunninghamesque' Wilkins. And I kinda found cold Tara hot. Surprise surprise. I found Tara hot Okay, I just HAD to use the Guiness emoticon and really, when can you put it in context when your talking about girl on girl action and angst all that is great about the fanfic on this board?

Thanks for the story and I look forward to the next three glorious chapters.

Shiraz

[tazraven]

Watty! Glad to see you're back and updating again. Just read the massive amounts of updates you posted, and I gotta say, getting better with each chapter. First off, Lockley, while not the best with the whole tact thing, certainly knows something is going on. That conversation put me on edge, especially with concern for Tara.

Wilkins. What can I say about him. How about, he's a grade A asshole with, well, a capital A. Grrr. That was just downright low and slimy to threaten Willow like that, and what he did to Tara. Makes my blood boil. That man is a bastard, and I'll be happy when he gets his just desserts, or something.

Also, poor Tara. Not sure what's going on with the co-signing, but I do know that only jerk-offs try to rape women. At least he stopped. The plot, once again, thickens, and I find myself growing more and more concerned with each layer that's added. Looking forward to more

~Sara

[hondos]

Hi Watty,
Im sooo glad you started posting again.I will tell you, I am a leerker who reads many many stories on this board.I am guilty of not posting feedback as well as not giving the proper thanks and praise to all of the kind and wonderful writters who take the time to write and post for us kittens.I have followed this story, and all of your stories for that matter ,from day one.I am so glad that we didnt lose this one because of lack of feedback. I have learned my lesson and I do now see how important it is for us to support and post feedback to authors.I know this far from makes up for my lack of thoughtfulness in the past but I do hope its a start.You and all the writers on this board deserve as much for taking time out to write these fics for us .Thanks for the wake up and again Im so glad that this story is back.So I shall now go on with my life, battling my feedback fear one day at a time.Thanks again,

Rosemary

[Justified12]

Hey watty,

I'm so glad you started posting again I love your writing... it's clever, concise and you have a brilliant ability to capture the complex way human's express emotion and relate to each other... This story, like your others, continues to keep me hooked... but yet I am guilty too of not posting feedback as often as I should.... sorry bout that

Anyways, keep up the awesome work!

Justified xo

[Zampsa1975]

Awesome update-y goodness. I guess big shit is going to hit the fan for the Mayor... and maybe big hurt for our beloved &

[JustSkipIt]

Well, you know that I’ve been wanting you to post here again. I won’t go into that but I’m happy to see these. You’ve seen most of this before but I promised a cut and paste…

Chapter 22: I really love the sense of permanence to the W/T relationship in this part. Tara's thoughts about her day, her weekend are wonderful and she knows Willow's schedule. They have a little ritual when Willow goes to reflexology, etc. That's all quite charming.

I love the way you interweave the Coffee into the Kate portion of the story. It's always nice to have something extra to talk about and write about during the narration and this works very well. I'm not a coffee drinker but if they weren't fattening, I'd have Thai Iced Tea all the time. The pho restaurant where we go was bought out by new management on Chinese New Year this year. For the first month they had free Thai Iced Tea and dumplings (didn't eat those - pork) and we indulged. Mmmmm..... (I picked up Thai for dinner tonight and at the moment I wish I'd gotten a Thai Iced Tea...). I'm fascinated Kate's comment about internet traffic, spam, child porn. What disgusting lines of business. How interesting also that Tara needs to kick Kate out. It would seem that covering her own ass might be a better decision but...

Then the part with Willow and Wilkins is just plain yucky. Where would he get video and who would he show it to? I mean they're private citizens so who would care? Tara has no family to speak of and Willow's job seems to care only that she produce, not who or how she fucks...

The whole thing: very very yucky!

Chapter 23:

Oh, I love the imagery of the breaking glass. It's such a thing that once done can't be undone. I mean it's subtle; the glass drops, it breaks, water everywhere but there's danger everywhere from the glass. Awesome imagery and awesome structure for the update. I'm glad that Willow finally allowed herself to talk to Tara rather than going on being petulant and not discussing. Of course the what happened in the suite can't be good if Tara's so scared to talk about it. And the fact that Tara owns dummy corporations and never got these money combined with Kate's warning is quite scary.

Now I'm worried!

Chapter 24:
The description of Tara’s visit to the suite is, as expected, brutal. Not as brutal as it could have been but brutal nonetheless. How interesting that they now have some sort of Stockholm-syndrome hold over each other. Twisted and interesting. The transition through the kiss is quite tender and effective but the fact that Tara’s now going to the office alone at night is concerning.

Thanks for posting.

[watty]

shiraz -- yay for delurking! And between the Guinness and your screen name I'm thinking we have something in common. I do like shiraz, whether on its own or mixed with some cab. I'm glad you like this story and I will try my best not to lapse in my posting.

And I kinda found cold Tara hot.

Actually I'm with you here. I think there's a lot of gentleness in Tara but given her background and what she's had to cope with so far in her life it's no surprise that she's lacking in some of the "nicer" emotions. Her job at the club is to be hot, but you're right, Tara in any shape or form is hot.

Thanks again.


Sara -- I'm glad to be back, sort of. We'll see. Kate Lockley has her own demons but she'll be making less of an appearance from now on. Wilkins gets creepier and creepier doesn't he? I wanted to do that, because that's exactly how it was in season 3 -- he got more and more evil. In a way I'm glad I posted these chapters together, can you imagine if I left the cliffhanger at "Tara, did he ever touch you?" Thanks for your excellent support as always.


hondos -- hi there and no worries about the feedbacking, it's more my hangups rather than the readers'. I'm glad you're enjoying this story and I'll do my best to keep to my promise of weekly updates.


Justified -- thanks for the high praise, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. As I mentioned, the next 3 chapters coming right up.


Zampsa1975 -- thanks. Yes big shit and the Mayor ... birds of a feather that.


Debra -- you're right, email is not the same as posting on the thread. Thanks for the cut and paste. Re: sense of permanence of their relationship ... they do know each other well, and it wouldn't have been hard to click and get into a routine quickly. I liked the imagery of the falling glass too, that's one of the images I have strongly in my mind. The Kate portion serves as exposition, and hints at something darker to come. Yes yucky, very yucky.

I'm kinda pleased I didn't have to leave the "Tara, did he ever touch you?" cliffhanger over a week, the readers will be worried. There's more badness to come but the tough part of their relationship is more or less over now. The flashback to Tara's first time to the Suite was meant to be brutal, but it was told from her current viewpoint so the brutality has faded. You're so right about the Stockholm type syndrome -- something holds Tara and Wilkins together but probably not even they know why.

Thanks for everything. Oh, I got the card, it's so sweet!! I'll email you this weekend.
[br]

[watty]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.


Part 25

Like many of the world's super rich, Richard Wilkins III fancied himself a stylish man. He wore the best bespoke tailoring Saville Row could offer, had his shoes hand-made at Salvatore Ferragamo's Florence workshop and perfected the fine art of never asking for the price while at the same time knowing which was the most expensive item. He didn't travel first class: he had his own fleet of jets, yachts and helicopters. He dined with tycoons, stars and ex-presidents. He owned property in New York, Connecticut, Southern California and on the Caribbean island of St Barts, among others.

When it came to his ultra exclusive nightclub in Manhattan, he chose only the best. Best location, best entertainment and best décor. KCA International designed the interior of the world's only seven star hotel, the Burj-al Arab in Dubai, and he spared no expense in securing their talents. The interior of Fur regularly made the pages of lifestyle magazines and architectural digests.

Unlike many of his peers, he recognized that although packaging was important, infrastructure was a detail just as essential. Even the door knobs and sealant joints of the building's plumbing had to be the best.

And because of the need to protect the identity of his clientèle, not to mention the amount of cash and jewelry that was regularly onsite, so was the security system. He had the best whiz-kids in the IT industry working for him in deals that did not always follow the straight and narrow. How better to ensure that his system wasn't hacked by getting it secured and maintained by the hackers themselves?

Fortunately, as Tara keyed in the code that led to the office side of the penthouse suite, she had access to the security codes. She had done this thousands of times and there was nothing to fear. Willow's words echoed in her mind. What was she doing there? Why did she have this much access? What exactly was her job? Wilkins had assembled an able, if self-serving, team around him -- Lilah took care of legal matters, Alan was publicity & marketing, Dalton did the accounting, Mr Trick the strategic planning and Faith was security. He had been including Tara in meetings and seemed to be grooming her for -- she stopped short. On the surface he was grooming her as his successor, was she being unfair to him by jumping to the conclusion that he was crooked? Or was she part of meetings so that if she was hauled before a court or tribunal she couldn't protest her innocence?

She rubbed her temples at the onset of a headache.

The elevator behind her opened with a whoosh causing her to jump. She hadn't expected anyone else to come up.

"Lily?"

The girl was immaculately dressed and made-up. She was glancing nervously from side to side, and was as shocked as Tara to see her. Tara's heart dropped. She knew what Lily was doing here, and the girl's anxiety level suggested it was her first time.

"Tara. I didn't know you'd be here. Isn't it your day off?" Lily asked, but not suspiciously.

Tara tried to sound nonchalant. "Oh, I needed something from the office." She nodded to the suite side of the floor. "Um, are you due inside?"

Lily gulped and nodded. Tara wanted to warn her, to pull her away and put her back inside the elevator. But what good would that do? "Are you sure about this?"

For an instant, Lily brightened up. "Yes. It's a honor to come up to the Suite, everyone wants it," she said almost by rote.

"Be careful, and don't feel obliged to say yes if you want to say no. You won't get into trouble." That was as much as Tara could say.

"I have a good idea what will happen behind that door. It's what I want too," Lily said bravely.

He never forced himself on anyone. Not since ... her. She had to be consoled with that. She patted Lily on the arm and gave the girl her most reassuring smile. "Check in with me tomorrow? I want to know you're okay," she said.

"Will do."

She watched Lily press the bell on the other side of the hallway and enter through the ornate double doors. Then she got back to the task at hand and quickly found her way to the office. Lily being summoned up meant the Mayor was on the same floor.

It was almost 4am when she finally stretched to loosen her neck joints. Rifling through paper files and searching through computer records was hard slog. She found original paperwork for the incorporation of several of the shell companies Willow mentioned. The first time she saw her own signature on the documentation a numbing chill passed through her. They either had a first class forger or she actually signed these innocently. How could I be so naïve?

She couldn't find much information relating to the transfers to offshore accounts that were supposed to be in her name. They were probably hidden deeper in the filing process. She would have to look tomorrow, since she was practically asleep on her feet.

She called Willow on her cellphone -- they had talked intermittently while she was searching and Willow insisted on staying up to wait for Tara.

"I'm done for the night, sweetie. I'll save what I have and come back tomorrow," Tara said, stifling a yawn.

"Be careful, baby. Come home soon," Willow's voice was so sweet.

The street was dark and deserted but she was used to it. She straightened her jacket and walked briskly toward the main street where taxis generally congregated. She didn't see the shadowy figure leaning against the outside wall of the next building, just out of reach of the faint light from the street lamps.

Her first thought, when she was grabbed by the shoulder and kicked in the knees, was that she needed to change her life insurance beneficiary to Willow. Then it was searing pain as her head hit the sidewalk and a sickening crack as her arm landed at a twisted angle, trapped between her body and the hard concrete.

Blood started trickling into her eyes, she tried to blink it out but her vision was becoming foggy. She caught sight of oddly familiar black boots coming at her head and reacted just in time to deflect the kick to her chin. She tried to push her assailant away with her remaining good arm but she was too weak. She tried to push herself up to an upright position but the pain in her broken arm made her cry out instead.

The kicks were aimed at her midriff now and she remembered just in time to curl into a fetal position, feebly protecting her head and neck with one arm. Each kick pushed her backwards until her back was against a wall, the hard brick surface biting into her back. But it means it's protected against his kicks.

During one gap in the assault, she managed to grab one boot and pull it toward her, unbalancing her assailant. She kicked out, and was rewarded by a grunt as the other person staggered back. Adrenaline pumped through her and provided her with enough energy to push herself up and run.

Each step was excruciatingly painful and she fought to breathe. She knew her attacker had already gotten up and was right behind her. There were things she should be doing, but all she could remember from her self-defense lessons was to cross her arms above her head to deflect an overhead knife attack. Not very useful for her current predicament.

Then it came back. "Fire!!! Fire!!!" she shouted. "Police! Fire!" Her instructor told her that people were more likely to respond to alarms of fire than shouts for help since potentially their own property was at risk. It was the sad fact of human selfishness.

Her assailant was upon her again, but she tried this time to stay on her feet. He held her from behind, one hand jerking her hair back and the other hand trying to circle around her throat. She pushed with both hands and bit down on exposed flesh.

Her ears were ringing with blood loss and fright but she heard a distinctively female voice cry out. "Shit!" That was when she stopped struggling forward; instead she leaned back and stomped on her attacker's feet as hard as she could. The grip on her hair loosened and she followed up with an elbow jab. It didn't connect very well but by then voices could be heard, of people roused by her call for help.

She could sense her attacker's hesitation and tried to kick back again. She didn't have the strength to turn defense into attack, but her life depended on how long she could hold the other person off until other people arrived on the scene. Shouts of alarm were beginning to come closer. This time the attacker jumped out of the way but instead of further attacks, ran away into the darkness.

Tara caught a glimpse of a figure in black clothing and ski mask before collapsing on the sidewalk. Pain was everywhere, but she needed the strength to do one last thing. She managed to pull her cellphone out from her pocket and hit redial before the pain turned into darkness and her world went black.

*****
[br]

[watty]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.

Special thanks: to Karinna for the medical know-how. You really know how, Doc!


Part 26

To describe Willow as frantic was like calling the Mona Lisa a small oil painting. Ten minutes after entreating Tara to be careful and come home early, her phone rang again. The caller displayed showed Tara's cellphone number but when she answered, there was only static and faraway sounds of labored breathing.

Gradually other voices grew nearer but she was only able to make out some of the words.

"... terrible ..."

"... was mugged ..."

"Is her neck secure?"

"Did anyone call 911?"

Her shouts went unanswered as she listened to the commotion over the phone. Either Tara was helping someone who was hurt or ... please god no ... Tara was hurt.

Sirens grew nearer and she heard the screeching of brakes. Banging and the rustling of plastic materials was swiftly followed by several metallic clangs. An authoritative voice seemed to be taking charge.

"Give us some space to work, please."

"Can you hear me, miss? Miss? Trevor, she's out but breathing. Pass me the C-collar."

"Easy does it."

"Dispatch, 16-Echo-Charlie on scene. One victim, female, early-twenties. Victim unconscious and unresponsive. BP 170 over 100, pulse 140, breaths 30. Pupils equal and reactive. GCS is seven. Open lacerations on left forehead, multiple fractures on lower left arm. Possible rib fracture. I'm immobilizing the c-spine and the arm."

Willow listened to the one-sided conversation with mounting apprehension. She wanted to shout out to get their attention, but didn't want to cause a distraction.

"Roger that, Dispatch. IVs in and wide open."

"Hey Trevor, she's holding a cellphone. Can you check it while I assess for head trauma and report in?"

Willow heard a more strange noises and then someone was talking into Tara's phone. The authoritative man's voice faded into the background.

"Hello?" another man asked tentatively.

"Hello. What's going on? What happened to Tara? Are you the paramedics?" she blurted.

"Yes, I'm Trevor Lopez from the Fire Department. Are you, er, Willow? Do you know the owner of this phone?" he asked cautiously, obviously having looked at the caller display to see her name.

Willow realized they had to be clear they were talking about the same person. "Yes, yes. Blonde, blue eyes, 24 years old. Wearing a brown corduroy jacket and black jeans. Is that her?" she said surprisingly calmly.

"Right," Trevor responded, clearly grateful for the identification. "What's her name?"

"Tara Maclay. Is she okay?" Willow asked anxiously.

"A little banged up, but she'll be fine. We're taking her to the hospital now," he explained.

"Which one?"

"Bellevue."

"I'm on my way."

"Okay, Willow. Go straight to the ER, I'll alert them that family is on the way."

"Is she conscious? Can I talk to her?" she pleaded.

"She's still unconscious, but breathing and pulse are strong. Listen, I have to hang up now. We'll take care of her. Don't worry, okay?"

Please, let her be alright.

*****

Tara didn't need surgery, and after being sutured and her arm encased in a plaster cast she was admitted for observation. The good news was no broken ribs, no skull fracture and no internal organ damage. The duty ER doctor told Willow that with a head injury, it's standard procedure to admit her for 48 hours.

Willow wept when she saw Tara, so small and fragile; but not weak. The doctor said she had fought back, and apart from the broken arm, mainly sustained cuts and bruises. Her face was swollen on one side and covered with a large head bandage. Her left arm was in a sling and every breath was accompanied by a wheeze and a wince. She was sedated, and drifted in and out of sleep. Willow kept a worried vigil at her bedside.

The police came and went but she couldn't tell them anything useful. They didn't ask why Tara was on her own on the streets at that hour and she didn't volunteer the information. For the time being, they would stick to the story that Tara was working late in the office. It was close enough to the truth to make Willow feel like she wasn't lying. Tara was too drugged up to give them any more clues other than it was a single attacker, likely to be female, unarmed and masked.

The doctors came at 8am, then a CT scan mid-morning. The initial results showed no swelling or abnormalities. The radiologist informed that the neurologist would examine her later and explain the results in further detail. She would need another scan in 48 hours. If that came back normal as well, she could be discharged as soon as possible.

They didn't expect any visitors, but several came.

Lily came by with a small bunch of flowers, knocking hesitantly on the door before poking her head in.

"Am I disturbing?" she asked.

Tara was glad to see the girl. Not only was she considerate, she also didn't look worse for wear after what could have been an ordeal in the Suite the night before. "No, come in please. Have you met Willow?"

"I've seen you around, but I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Lily," Lily shook Willow's outstretched hand firmly.

Willow returned the handshake, impressed at the girl's friendly and confident attitude. "Nice to meet you, Lily. Thanks for coming."

Lily's attention had turned to Tara. "How are you feeling? What happened? I saw you upstairs, next thing I know, an ambulance was making a racket outside and you were being stretchered off."

Tara squirmed and tried to get into a comfortable sitting position. "I feel like Godzilla had tap danced on me, but I'll live. Um, when you left, after-- after last night, did you see suspicious people in the club or outside?"

Lily thought for a second. "Nooo. Let me think. After the commotion with the ambulance, I went back inside to get my coat. He, um, he asked if I, um ..." she trailed off, looking at Willow, not sure if she could continue.

"Willow knows," Tara said. And felt her lover's arm wrap securely around her shoulder and kiss her on the head.

"Oh, okay," Lily nodded. "So he asked me if I wanted to stay the night, but it was really late and I wanted to go home. Faith asked if I needed a --"

"-- Faith?" Tara interrupted. "Faith was there?"

"Yeah, she was in the kitchen getting a drink. Looked like she'd been in the gym, I remember her toweling her hair and I thought to myself, who works out at those ungodly hours. But it's Faith, you know," Lily shrugged.

Tara had a thoughtful expression on her face and exchanged a look with Willow. "Yeah, that's Faith. But you got home okay? Nothing weird?"

"Nope."

Tara sat up further and was grateful that Willow immediately reached around her back to help her with the pillows. "Keep an eye and ear out, okay? Anything out of the ordinary, however small. Report to me," she said, gratefully accepting a glass of water from Willow. How did she know I wanted it?

"You know who did it to you? What they were after?"

Tara sighed, and Willow's grip tightened. "I don't know. But we need to be very careful, trust no one."

Willow giggled out loud before slapping a hand over her mouth, mortified. "Sorry, baby. This is really inappropriate. But you sounded exactly like Agent Mulder just now."

Tara smiled. "Huh, I prefer Scully myself."

"Do you now."

"You know how I feel about redheads," Tara grinned suggestively, leaning back into her nest of pillows and handing the water glass back to Willow, allowing their fingers to linger when they touched.

Willow blushed and swatted Tara's good hand playfully. Her love was assaulted and injured, but they were still able to joke together, it made her feel better.

Lily looked back and forth between them with a wide grin on her face. "Wow, you guys are like, really sweet," she said in awe, a small look of longing in her eyes.

Which Tara, even with one eye almost closed because of swelling, spotted. "You'll find yours. Somewhere out there, there's a nice boy with your name written in his heart. Okay, that was corny, but don't give up looking."

"Yeah well, 'nice' doesn't normally describe the boys I meet. Or used to."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "Where?"

Lily gulped. The normally confident girl seemed embarrassed. "Um, I was with a religious cult for a while. Called myself Sister Sunshine. Then it was, uh, vampiregothclubs," she said under her breath.

"Vampires," Willow said, one eyebrow raised.

"Goths," Tara said at the same time.

"Yeah. I was into the whole, give me eternal life," Lily explained, shaking her arms in the air in the age-old gesture of cult worshippers.

"Vampires don't exist."

"But we all have our own demons, don't we?" Lily said, her chin jutting out. "Oh shit! I'm sorry, Tara. I shouldn't be talking about stuff like that, not when you've been hurt!"

Tara smiled thinly. "It's okay, but I'm getting tired. Why don't you two chat a little?"

Lily said she actually had to go, but wished Tara a speedy recovery.

*****

The real surprise visitor was Mr Wilkins, who came alone with a dazzling bouquet. His display of concern, anxiety and outrage was perfectly executed. He said the right thing, promised any support Tara needed and even offered to speak with Willow's superiors if they had any problems about her taking time off. The earlier threats, suspicious activities and unpleasantries, all swept under the carpet as if they never existed.

The performance was so convincing that if Willow and Tara weren't already harboring doubts about his character and motives, they would be falling over themselves to give him thanks and praise.

His visit was fortunately short. Tara politely thanked him for the flowers and his taking time to visit in person, at which he huffed and extolled about his staff being as important to him as his flesh and blood.

Faith was nowhere to be seen.

*****

"I saw your expression when Lily mentioned Faith, like a train hit you or something," Willow said, when finally the visitors had left and the nurses had done their rounds.

"Yep, the clue train. It was her," Tara said.

"Faith?"

"I remember grabbing onto a boot, it's exactly like the ones she wears. And then Lily said she was coming out of a shower looking like she's been in the gym. That's because she just beat someone up on the street, that's why. The bitch," Tara spat vehemently.

Willow slammed her hand on the bed. "She's not getting away from this."

"If it was her, then we know who's behind it. It means he knows what we're up to. He must have been watching me last night, or tracking what I was doing in the system. Dammit, how could I have been so careless!" Tara shivered, first from anger and then as the gravity of the incident dawned on her. It was a warning.

"Sweetie, no. We're up against something bigger than we imagined. We have to be careful." Willow recovered from her outburst as her attention turned toward soothing Tara. She climbed on the bed and took the trembling blonde in her arm, gently stroking slow circles around her love's back.

They were like this for a comforting few minutes, as the mutual love and support calmed their nerves and brought some peace.

"I need to get out of here for a while. Let's go home, Will. Go back to Sunnydale."

*****
[br]

[watty]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.

Additional notes: a tiny part of this was inspired by something Debra said last year. Debra may recognize it, but no more clues. No prizes for getting it right either.


Part 27

Tara recuperated at home for a few days before they boarded the plane for California. Each day that passed, she was doubting her impulsive decision to go back to the place she grew up. She hadn't been back since she left because there was nothing to go back to. Would anyone recognize her? Would anyone acknowledge her?

They stayed at the Rosenberg's. Willow emailed her parents and was relieved to learn that they were away. Not that she didn't want to see them, she wanted Tara to settle in before "la grande réunion de famille." She knew her mother would have questions on their relationship. After Tara left Sunnydale she fell into a deep depression and refused to talk to anyone, but she had the feeling that everyone knew something was going on between them. She hadn't come out then, but not even her mother seemed surprised when she finally did.

Taking time off work proved more difficult than Willow expected. She had more than enough days accrued, but Patrick was reluctant and it wasn't just because she would have to postpone her London trip. She knew his back was against the proverbial wall, they had targets to meet and she sensed he was on the wrong side of an upstairs political battle.

There was a time when even thinking about not being on the desk would be inconceivable. Four weeks away from the trading desk was tantamount to career suicide. Her top spot on the board would be under threat and her accounts would defect to another trader in the blink of a cursor. She wasn't sure she would have a job to go back to. Oddly enough, she felt fine about it. Worst case scenario, she would move to a hedge fund or Equity Research. Less well paid, less intellectually challenging, but less cut-throat. It didn't bother her at all.

*****

"Sorry I'm late, baby. Xander and I got talking," Willow apologized as she crawled into bed with Tara. Her childhood bed. One that they had shared many times as teenagers. She sent a silent thanks to her mother for the double bed. This was not a sleepover, unless sleepovers involved getting into bed naked with one's lover. Willow sighed as she spooned Tara protectively, pressing her breasts into Tara's back, their legs and feet slipping into a familiar interlocking tangle.

Tara scooted back so she was fully cocooned in Willow's embrace. "That's alright, I thought I'd wait for you in bed. I've been thinking about you all night."

"How are you feeling? No dizziness?" Willow asked tenderly.

Tara shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I took a nap earlier." She took Willow's hand and cupped it over her breast. Then she pushed back and made a gap between her legs, urging Willow to slip one leg between hers. She was sure Willow could feel her wetness.

"Tara."

"It's been ten days."

"Your hand is still in a cast."

"I'm right-handed."

"I don't want to hurt you."

Tara half-turned toward Willow. "You never hurt me," she said.

Willow, becoming undeniably aroused with the feel of Tara's full breast in her hand and a distinctive wetness on the skin of her trapped leg, knew she was on the verge of caving in on her desires. Their desires. She could never refuse Tara. One last protest. "But, your bruises."

"You'll kiss them better, like you do every night."

"That I will."

"Do you know how hot you make me when you do that? And then you stop. I'm not taking that torture one more night."

Willow traced a reverent circle with her fingers and kissed one of the bruises, on Tara's shoulder. "So, torture eh? Should I start the torture now? And may be torture you some more afterwards?"

Tara's response was to rock her legs back and forth, bearing down on Willow's thigh, feeling herself becoming harder. "You can do whatever you like, whenever you like, baby." Willow had involuntarily bent her knee so it provided the friction that Tara needed. "This feels so good."

Willow's resolve dissolved as she felt Tara's wet center mark a trail over her skin. She hooked one leg over Tara's hip and ground against the back of her lover's thigh. They found their rhythm easily and soon the sensation of sliding and brushing was enough to make their softest, most sensitive parts pulse wildly.

It was a culmination of pent-up sexual frustration, the tumultuous events of the past two weeks and their profound love for each other. The wild pulse melted into pure liquid pleasure as their tempo increased and as quickly as they started they were crying out in a joint climax.

They rode the crest together, and came down from the peak so conjoined they wanted to crawl inside each other and start again. Whispering words of devotion only meant for themselves, they soon drifted into restful sleep.

*****

"When did you learn to cook so well? Or was it the sex?" Tara asked, peering over the morning paper to watch Willow busy herself around the kitchen. Willow broke two eggs into a bowl using one hand, whisked and poured the mixture into a skillet deftly. She quickly seasoned and threw in the fillings before swirling the mixture around expertly.

The twinkle in Willow's eyes and the way she was dancing around the kitchen was a sign that she was enjoying herself immensely. "You expect me to answer that?"

"I was just complimenting you on your cooking skills," Tara deadpanned.

"Baby, I'm only making breakfast," Willow stuck her tongue out at Tara. "But if you really want to know, I did a semester of semi-professional cookery training in my junior year. The one summer I didn't take a million courses."

"I'm so glad you did," Tara leaned over, carefully balancing herself on the breakfast stool, to give Willow a quick kiss. "What were you saying about Xander last night?"

"Oh, we were catching up. He and Anya invited us to dinner."

"He remembers me?"

The omelet was ready and Willow served it to Tara with a flourish, earning her another kiss. "Hmm, kisses for food, this is good. Of course he remembers you. He can't believe we've only been together for five months, when I told him I'm here with you he assumed we got together when I went to New York and he was giving me a hard time for not telling him earlier. Do you want juice?"

"I'll get it myself, you don't have to wait on me hand and foot," Tara bit into the omelet and had to stifle a groan, she was biased but it was one of the best she'd ever tasted. "And he took over his uncle's car dealership?"

"Yeah, though I think Anya is the one running the show behind the scenes. They're very happy. He's done well for himself. Oh, I said I'll ask you first, about dinner." Willow was now making the second omelet with the same effectiveness.

"Dinner'll be nice. I'd like to see them again. I don't have much memory of people here," Tara looked down. "If I bumped into Anya on the street, I may not recognize her."

"You had no intention of coming back?"

"No. Never."

She was still not sure why she dragged Willow back. Perhaps it was to do with needing closure after getting struck on the head. And to get complete closure there were things she would have to do, people she would have to face. She wasn't sure if she was brave enough.

*****

"Wow. Tara. Wow," Xander couldn't stop gaping at her.

"Will you quit leering at my girlfriend," Willow smacked Xander on the arm. Harder than she intended.

"Ow! I'm not leering! I'm just admiring how great she looks," Xander snatched his arm away and pretended to nurse it. "You look wonderful, Tara."

Tara blushed at the attention. "Thanks, Xander."

They were at Xander and Anya's house, which was conveniently located behind the car dealership that Xander inherited from his uncle. No commuting, he said. Tara thought she saw the possessive glint in Anya's eyes, having Xander nearby meant she could keep an eye on him 24/7.

Not that Xander was straying. As Willow said, they were happy. Tara didn't remember Anya, but Willow told her that they'd been together since prom night. Tara wistfully tried to imagine how she and Willow would look like if they too had gotten together on that fateful night. Probably as happy as Xander and Anya. If only they weren't so pig-headed. If only life was less complicated. If only life weren't so full of if-only's.

"I should feel threatened by Xander's attention on Tara, but I'm not. I must be losing my edge," Anya said.

Xander immediately leapt to Anya's defense and knew the right words to say to placate his wife. "You're as sharp as ever, An. I still remember the tax man's face when he left. Pure terror."

Anya perked up immediately. "Well, I wasn't gonna let him get away with it. The nerve! Asking me to pay taxes," she snorted.

Willow caught Tara's eye with a wicked grin. "May be we should ask hire Anya as our accountant, honey."

Anya launched into a tale of how she was always on the lookout for loopholes and how her life's purpose was to exact vengeance on the IRS. It seemed that her family had bad blood with either the IRS, or an IRS employee, Tara wasn't sure. But Anya's sense of vengeance was strong. Xander sat back and listened to his wife indulgently, Tara was sure he had listened to the stories so many times he could recite them, but he acted as if it was his first time. She filed it away as one of the secrets for a good relationship.

Later, Xander and Willow sat on the deck, reminiscing about their childhood. Tara was content to sit close to Willow and let the conversation drift around her. Anya served coffee and dessert. The hot coffee was very welcome on this spring night that still lingered with traces of chill.

Anya chose to sit next to Tara rather than Xander. "Xander likes it when his friends come back to visit. Makes him feel less like he missed out on his life's great adventure."

"But look at him now. Young Businessperson of the Year. That must have been an honor, to both of you," Tara said.

"He'll never admit it, but part of him sometimes wonders why he was the one left behind. Jesse, Buffy, Willow, you -- all went on to bigger things. And he's still here, a big fish in a small pond."

Tara glanced at her lover and Anya's husband, still engaged in animated conversation. "Not all pastures are greener on the other side," she said kindly.

"On one level he knows that, but he gets whimsical occasionally."

"How about you? Do you get wanderlust?" Tara asked.

Xander interrupted before Anya could answer. "Tara, we're talking about how we miss our families. Do you keep in touch with your aunt?"

Tara stiffened. She knew she had to face this sooner or later, otherwise she would never have closure. "No. Not really," she said.

"I saw Donny at the bank for a while, but I never see your aunt around town," Xander said.

Tara said nothing. Willow, sensing Tara's quiet distress, diverted the topic to Buffy's adventures. Their friend applied for West Point, in order to follow Riley's career in the army. Her relationship with Riley didn't last, partly due to his ego not able to handle her outshining him in many aspects of the training. In a twist that would make any mystery novelist proud, an internship assignment later she was recruited to join the FBI and was currently undergoing training at Quantico.

Tara's disquietude continued during their drive home, and when they got ready for bed.

"I'm sorry Xander brought up the topic of your aunt," Willow took Tara in her arms when they crawled under the covers.

"It's not his fault. I know I need to go see her. I think at the back of my mind I still harbor resentment toward her. Unfair because she did the best she could, but it was never my home. There was also the nagging feeling that I owe her money; my dad stopped sending her money a few months before I ran away." Tara sighed.

"You don't owe her anything. If I recall, she encouraged her son to practically molest you."

Tara closed her eyes. "I should just go look them up. Get it over with. Face my demons."

"Want me to come with you?"

"Always."

"You know I will. But tonight, I'm going to make love to you so you forget your aunt and your demons for a while."

*****
[br]

[Emms]

Oh good, watty, I'm so happy to see this story back up on the first page! Rock on! And so many new chapters to read and be gratefull for too!

[watty]

Emmy -- thanks! for your enthusiasm.

[hr]

Title: Lamplight
Author: watty (hiddenwatson[at]gmail[dot]com)
Distribution: Chris and Susan have pre-approval. Anyone else please ask for my permission first.
Rating: R to NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialogue belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others.
Summary: Contemporary AU. Where demons wear human faces. Two lives drifted apart, can they find their missing half?
Notes: This will be long and angsty. It also changes direction more than once. I had planned for it to go in a certain direction, I didn't know it would go that far. Sometimes, stories have a mind of their own.

Additional notes: small nod to The Body this chapter.


Part 28

[blockquote]"Tara, I'm taking Donny to remedial class and Beth to the store with me. Minced chicken is half price today. Can you finish the laundry and iron your uncle's blue shirt by the time I get back? He has an interview at the plant tomorrow."

She looked up from her homework. "Yes, Aunt Marie."

The nine year-old pushed and dragged the heavy laundry basket that was half her height down three flights of stairs to the basement laundry room. Between sixteen families there were three washers and one dryer, and all of them were on their last legs.

She said a silent prayer of thanks as she discovered that one washer was available. She added a scoop of detergent like her aunt taught her, and sorted the whites from the coloreds before loading one pile into the machine. The knobs on the ancient contraption were stiff and it took all her strength to turn them.

The cycle took 26 minutes, after which she had to put the other load in. She wanted to go back upstairs -- the dank, sour smell of the damp basement was making her nauseated and she didn't want to look too closely at the dark shadowy corners in case something moved. But what to do with the clothes? She couldn't leave them there, someone might come along and steal them. She had only been living with her aunt for a year, but she already understood that they had to watch over their possessions with an eagle eye. Although it didn't seem possible, there were poorer people in their block. Aunt Marie said that none of their neighbors were to be trusted.

She found a dry cardboard box and squatted inside, feeling the warm vibrations of the old washer against her back. She fell asleep, watching over the pile of clothing in a multitude of colors.
[/blockquote]

*****

Tara stared at the small pile of clothes scattered all over Willow's bed. It was a rare occasion -- she had no idea what to wear. Over the last six years she had developed both taste in fashion and an acute sense of occasion. She was never stumped, not even when she was dating Willow. Did we even date?

"Baby?" Willow came into the room and perched on the corner of the bed that wasn't covered in outfits. She was dressed in a navy long sleeved t-shirt and khakis, looking neat and casual. Tara was still in her camisole.

Tara picked up a purple silk shirt and held it up for Willow's inspection. "What do you think? The purple, right? It's understated."

Willow smiled lightly and nodded her support.

Tara frowned. "No, it's too fancy. It's like I'm rubbing it in their noses." She picked up a light yellow cotton sweater. "This is more casual. I want to be casual, like this doesn't matter to me as much as it obvious is."

"You'll be fine, whatever you wear," Willow said.

Tara threw the yellow sweater onto the pile, and rummaged through the open closet. "If I had the blue one, it goes with your outfit. You sure we packed it?"

"I'm pretty sure we did."

"I should wear the purple shirt. Does purple mean anything bad?" Tara fretted.

Willow was looking through the pile for the blue shirt. "No, it's a nice shirt. You shouldn't be worrying yourself too much about what you're wearing, I'm sure they won't read too much into it."

"I know. But I don't want to waltz into the place acting like it's the return of the prodigal daughter. I don't want them to feel that I'm only there to flaunt my success," Tara picked up an olive green shirt and threw it back.

"On a basic level, that's exactly what you are doing. They weren't able to give you anything, and you made something for yourself without ... no, despite of them. No matter what you say, do or wear, that's how she will feel. It's unavoidable," Willow pointed out.

Tara looked uncertainly at the purple shirt before pulling it on slowly. With her arm still in the cast it was better to wear something that buttoned. "Yes, but can't we dress it up in something that sounds less callous?" Her hand was shaking and she was having a hard time with the small buttons.

Willow smiled lightly and pulled Tara close. "A rose by any other name, honey."

Tara watched as her love took care of her buttons. She had been in an antsy mood since she decided that she couldn't avoid returning to Aunt Marie's. She had no idea how her arrival would be greeted. She wasn't even sure if it was the right time to visit; she had no sense of her aunt's schedule, or if they even lived there now. Perhaps no one would be home and she could leave a note and be done.

But that wasn't closure.

Closure was walking into Aunt Marie's apartment, greeting the family cordially and letting them know that she had not thought about them for one second since she left. She would thank them for taking her in after her mother died. She would leave some cash, a few hundred dollars may be, to finally clear the debt that had been a niggling burden in her mind. And once she walked out the door, all ties and obligations would be severed and she could wipe them from her memory forever.

Free.

*****

[blockquote]Tara had been looking and looking. But none of the places she saw felt right even though there were nothing wrong with those apartments. Real estate at that end of the market were flawless -- deciding between them was often a question of personal taste.

"Let's walk around the neighborhood a little," she said.

Her companion pocketed the remote of her Lexus and flashed Tara a manufactured, toothy smile. "Yes, of course."

Tara noted the discomfort of the woman next to her. Dressed in a thin silk suit, sleeveless top and three-inch heels, she was clearly ill-equipped to be walking around the streets. It was mid-afternoon but the tall buildings in New York had a habit of shielding its denizens from much needed sunshine.

Tara marched down the street, indifferent to the woman's attempts to hide her discomfort at having to hobble to keep up. It was a realtor's job to see to their client's wishes.

They turned a corner and Tara's subconscious began to register a whiff of something from her past. Her footsteps grew more urgent as she neared the source.

Yes, yes, yes. There it was.

Home. Warmth. Happiness.

She glanced at her watch. 3pm.

Right on time.

She closed her eyes, so she could devour the sensation.

"There you are! You walk fast, Ms Maclay," the click-clack of the realtor's shoes on the concrete snapped her out of her delirium.

Tara shot her an irritated look. The moment broken, she looked around at the surroundings, taking in the stores and houses that lined the street. Her eyes always returning to the store in front of her.

"This is probably one of the last family bakeries left in this area. The building was scheduled for demolition a year ago but the family resisted moving out; there was even a neighborhood petition. The condos they would have built would be worth millions," the realtor, ever the consummate professional, couldn't help reciting the sales pitch.

Tara nodded at the brownstone next to the bakery, the two buildings separated by a narrow alleyway. "Find me a unit in that building."
[/blockquote]

*****

The area was slowly becoming gentrified. The run-down stores selling discounted goods, out-of-date toiletries and knick-knacks were replaced by nail bars and fashion boutiques. There were still pockets of resistance -- dilapidated houses sitting uneasily among the modern, prefabricated versions -- but they wouldn't last long.

Tara tried not to let her anticipation wash over her. Her hands felt clammy and the skin underneath her cast was especially itchy. As Willow turned their rental car into the street where she grew up, she had to stop herself from craning her neck to try to spot the apartment building. How many times had she walked down that street? From school, from Willow's house, from the store. Not for the first time, she felt like the images in her head were memories of someone else. Another Tara, another lifetime.

Willow was paying attention to the road, but she could feel Tara's distress. Every cell inside her screamed to turn around and take Tara away from this. There was nothing to be achieved -- were they planning to rub their good fortune in Aunt Marie's face? Or angrily bring up events that were water under the bridge? She kept these thoughts to herself as she drove on. Tara needed this, to face her past and realize that she had risen above it. That despite every obstacle that life had thrown in her path, her determination and drive took her away, and she made a better life. Glancing to her right, she spied that Tara was on the verge of tears; she squeezed Tara's hand in support.

There was construction ahead; they had to park and walk the rest of the way. As soon as they exited the car they were assuaged by the familiar, childhood smell of freshly baked bread. 3pm, without fail. Tears welled up in Tara's eyes at the memory.

Tara's eyes picked out the bakery, and then the narrow alleyway that her old room overlooked. But her eyes were fixed on the signage of a construction site and one lone street lamp in front of a wired fence. Willow didn't realize at first, then it hit her like a ton of bricks. Just as Tara's legs gave out and she staggered into Willow.

"It's gone. They're gone."

Tara stood there like a statue, staring at the last remnants of her past. Gone, by the swing of the wrecking ball. Gone.

"They could have moved out a long time ago," Willow tried to reason. "The bakery is still here, they'll know."

Tara clenched then opened her fists. To Willow's eyes, she seemed to be willing herself to stand taller as she came to terms with what was in front of her eyes. "No. They're gone now. I don't want to go back. I have my life, I have you, I have so much in front of me. It doesn't matter."

Gone now. They warm smell of fresh bread would stay with them when they return to another life, but there would be no more burdens. The past was past.

*****

When they returned to the house Tara checked her voicemail. She had one, urgent and spoken in a hurried whisper.

"Tara, it's Lily. I can't talk long, he's in the next room. I got something. Check your email, I put it on my account on you-- fuck! Noooo ..."

*****
[br]

[Zampsa1975]

Excellent update-y goodness. I just hope that somebody soon Faith before she hurts & more...Creepy ending...

[doobiedoo]

Hello!

I'm de-lurking as well, because your comments 6 chapters ago made me feel guilty. I really should thank you and other great authors early and often for the incredible entertainment you provide!

I love your story, and I'm hooked! And Common Areas is one of my favorites in the archive. You are an incredible writer, and I love your attention to detail.

Thank you for writing, because your story is one of the ones I look forward to when I check for updates!!!