Hi everyone. Here is next week’s post. I’m going on vacation! Woo Hoo with the Woo Hoo and no computer for a week so this will have to hold you. Comment freely and I’ll respond when I get back. Thanks for reading.
Title – Paths Diverged/Divulged Part 9 –
Knock Author – JustSkipit - Debra
Spoilers –Season 6
Rating – Part 9 – PG
Disclaimer – Guess what, I don’t own W&T, Buffy or the rest of the BtVS crew. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and fortunate. Also Rachel thinks I should point out that I don’t make any money from this…
Shakespeare is a brilliant writer and inspiration to us all. Obviously I can’t write words for Fairies so: Midsummer’s Night Dream: Act II, Scene ii.
Thoughts in italicsFlashbacks and dreams indentedWillow could barely hear her own sobs over the repeated sounds of banging and pounding. She held the slowly cooling body of her lover as she had so many nights before but it was as if her sobs were becoming quieter. Or something else was louder. And the pounding was getting louder…
Willow sat up with a start and realized that the pounding was coming from the door. The door of this strange room, a room filled with so few of her belongings and looking like someplace else.
“Willow. Are you in there?”
Willow finally recognized Tara’s voice from the other side of the door. She rubbed her face as she moved toward the door, switching on a lamp as she went. She pulled open the door and started speaking. “Tara? What’s wro…,” was as far as she got before seeing the woman on the other side of the door. She was shocked at Tara’s appearance. Her hair was mussed, her face and eyes were puffy and red, and she leaned heavily not just on her cane but on the wall by the door to Willow’s room.
Quickly the redhead reached out to take Tara’s upper arms in her hands. “Come in Tara,” she said gently as she began to guide the blonde into the room. Tara’s grief and exhaustion was palatable even to Willow who completely lacked the magical gift of empathy. Reaching the desk, she pulled out the chair and settled the blonde into it before quickly shutting the door and returning to kneel in front of the girl. A small part of her wondered how she looked. After keeping it pretty well together at the restaurant she had come home and cried herself to sleep which she knew had to show on her face. And the face in front of her showed evidence of the same experience. Again she asked, “Tara, what’s wrong?” When the blonde didn’t answer Willow gently told her. “Why don’t you take your time? I’m going to make us both some tea, ok?” She was relieved to see a nod from the other girl as she stood up and entered the small kitchenette.
Willow made the tea carefully and slowly, not wanting to rush what she was doing.
And what am I doing? she wondered. She wanted to give Tara the time to get herself together before reentering and setting off whatever potential breakdown was waiting. And she wanted to get herself together. She had been dreaming of Tara and then suddenly she was there and the redhead was having trouble distinguishing where one version of reality ended and the next began.
Maybe I’m still dreaming and I’ll wake up in my bed and Buffy’s house she thought with more than a little fear.
The tea done she walked back in to see Tara sitting up in the chair. She had her eyes closed and Willow guessed that she was meditating or doing a relaxation exercise. Willow walked slowly across the floor and sat on the bed facing her visitor but not looking directly at her. She didn’t want to give her that creepy someone’s watching me feeling but she wanted her to know that she was available. While in the kitchen she had looked at the clock and it was 1:30 in the morning. She wondered if Tara had been at the pet hospital all this time or if she had been off work for a while.
Tara’s stuttering voice broke into Willow’s thoughts: “c-c-can I have the t-t-tea?”
“Oh right,” Willow agreed quickly handing her the cup. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you or anything but I thought you were meditating and I didn’t want to disturb you or anything and … it’s chamomile,” she trailed off at the end.
Willow was surprised to see Tara smile as she took the cup. The blonde was quickly finding Willow’s babbling to be addictive. After taking a drink she set the cup on the desk and took a deep breath. “Thank you Willow,” she told the redhead. She looked down for a minute before speaking: “I’ve b-been d-done at work for a few hours and just d-d-driving around.”
“I wondered,” Willow answered. Taking a deep breath Willow asked the question that was making her crazy: “Tara, should I leave?”
Tara looked up and locked her eyes on the green ones in front of her. Both sets of eyes glistened with yet-unshed tears. “Why a-a-are you here Willow?” she bravely asked. As she saw that this was not the response the redhead expected she clarified, “I’ve b-been driving around for hours and p-p-puzzling for days and I d-d-don’t know why you are here.” She amended quietly, “or much else about you.” Holding up her hand she clarified, “I mean, d-d-do you want me to help you b-b-bring her back or do you want to replace her with m-m-me or what? Why are you here Willow?” She emphasized each smoothly pronounced word in the final question.
Willow looked into her cup of tea as if it held a magical answer. Finally she spoke: “I’m not sure I know anymore.” As she spoke she slipped onto the floor so she was kneeling in front of the blonde. She leaned slightly forward to allow her hands to cup Tara’s shaking ones. Willow looked down as she started to explain, hoping that this woman could understand her grief and her love and her desperation, “I loved her so much and I miss her so much. I tried to make it different. I know I shouldn’t have and it’s against Wiccan law but I did. But it didn’t help and she was still gone and everyday I felt like there was a hole ripped in my heart, as if the bullet tore through both of us and not just her.” As her tears started to fall Willow realized that Tara was now the one stroking her hands rather than the other way around.
She continued, “and then one day I thought of you. And I thought that this was the answer. I would come here and everything would be fine…” She trailed off thinking what a failure her grand scheme had been.
Tara nodded as the redhead spoke. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she answered, “I c-can’t be h-h-her.”
Willow swallowed down the absolute dejection in her throat.
I knew it. “I understand,” she agreed, “you couldn’t love me.” She started to stand and turn her back as she muttered, “I shouldn’t have come; it was stupid.”
She was surprised to feel Tara’s hands on her shoulders, hands which rubbed down her arms and wrapped around her stomach as if to hold her to this world. “I c-c-can’t be
her,” Tara repeated, placing elaborate emphasis on the last word and hoping that Willow would understand.
Willow stilled her crying and emotion as she tried to process what Tara was saying. Was she saying to go? Was she saying to stay? What was she saying? Willow turned to face the blonde, stepping back to avoid the intimacy of their embrace. “What are you saying Tara?” she asked.
The blonde moved away from Willow to reclaim her seat. “My leg h-h-hurts,” she apologized. “I feel guilty,” she said, not answering Willow’s question at all.
Willow was shocked to hear Tara’s words. What did she have to feel guilty about? What could she possibly be referring to? Again she kneeled in front of the blonde witch and held her hands. “What do you feel guilty about Tare?”
Tara looked at their hands as she spoke: “For three y-y-years I’ve thought about you, dreamed about you, fantasized about you.” She whispered the last as a blush spread up her neck and cheeks. “And so often I was jealous of her. That s-s-she got you but the you here wasn’t.” Tara swallowed down a lump of emotion in her throat before continuing: “but now you’re h-h-here and part of me is so sad for you and your l-loss and for her. But the other part, feels your skin on mine and looks into your eyes and hears your nervous babble and thanks the Goddess for y-y-you.”
Willow felt the shock of Tara’s words. She could hardly understand them all strung together. And like a drowning woman she latched onto what she could: “how does my skin feel on yours?”
Tara looked up into Willow’s shining eyes smiling at her. “Like belonging. Like comfort. Like magic and electricity and I’m captivated by it. I feel like I could spend days or years rubbing my thumb over the b-back of your hand and never get bored.” She looked down again. “Which is s-s-stupid because I know nothing about you,” she pouted.
Willow leaned forward placing a gentle kiss on the top of Tara’s head as she whispered, “there’s a cure for knowing nothing about me.” Then to break the serious mood she jumped back and handed the girl back her tea. “And the cure today is questions and answers,” she announced.
Willow ran into the other room and came back with two hats. “First thing,” she explained as Tara watched fascinated, “is that I love silly hats.” She held up the hats. One was foam and molded into the shape of a chicken like people have to wear at a fast-food restaurant. The other was a rainbow colored beanie complete with propeller on top. She handed the chicken hat over to Tara. “now sure, that had should be a Tofu hat but really who wants to see helpless Tofus slaughtered for our hat wearing enjoyment? Wouldn’t be right I say.” She paused to make sure that Tara was laughing, which she was, before continuing. “The question asker wears the chicken hat because it represents… something and the answerer wears the beanie because the propeller represents your brain working hard.”
Laughing heartily Tara took the chicken hat and put it on her head. “Ok b-b-but my r-r-rule is I g-g-get to ask two questions for every one of yours.” She took another drink of the tea as she waited for Willow to respond.
Willow agreed: “agreed but you should have bargained harder. I would have gone three to one if you had offered to sing a line of any song in between.” As she finished she stuck her tongue out playfully.
Tara attempted to do an English accent as she asked, “we should get started. After all you know what the M-m-monty Python boys say?”
Willow laughed and shot back in her worst accent, “no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
Tara looked around for a minute before speaking. “This doesn’t c-c-count as my first question but c-c-can I sit on the bed with my leg up?”
Willow jumped up grabbing a few pillows as she helped Tara to the bed. “I’ll sit in the chair,” she offered.
“That’s s-s-silly,” Tara answered. “It’s a b-b-big bed…” She trailed off as she realized that maybe it wasn’t appropriate to be mentioning being on the bed together.
She was pacified as Willow immediately flopped onto the side of the bed, leaving a respectable distance between the two girls. “Do you want ice or anything,” she offered.
Tara shook her head as she teased, “no getting out of your questions y-y-young lady.” Willow nodded playfully and waited. “Ok,” Tara started, “let’s s-s-start easy. When is your birthday?”
Willow reached up and twirled the propeller as she answered: “November 27, 1980 so you’re 44 days older than me old lady.”
“Why was Xander ‘afraid he’d turn into his c-c-costume again’?” Tara asked next.
Willow smiled as she started to answer, not before twirling the propeller, “ah yes. My stories are probably always going to lead to more questions. When we were Juniors in High School--that’s me, Xander who is my best friend since childhood, and Buffy who is the slayer--this guy came to Sunnydale. He worships chaos and he cast a spell that we would all turn into our costumes. Xander turned into a military guy, which has actually been pretty helpful over the years, Buffy turned into a 18th century lady, and I turned into a ghost.”
“Sunnydale sounds l-like an exciting place,” Tara observed.
“You can hardly imagine,” Willow agreed as she held out the propeller hat and took the chicken one. “But since I only get one question to your two, I’m not starting out easy. Why didn’t Teresa help with your leg more?”
Tara raised her eyebrows and frowned at the redhead. “T-t-teresa? My grandmother?” she confirmed. As Willow nodded Tara continued to have a puzzled look on her face as she explained, “my grandmother passed away in the Spring of my freshman year. Eliza’s father p-p-paid for my ticket to go home for the funeral.” Her tears had started to flow again as she thought about the love and training she had always received from this woman who so wanted her to find a love of her own and the generosity from Eliza’s father:
Tara sat in her dorm room crying rivers of tears over her grandmother. The woman had seemed so strong just a year ago but then everything had fallen apart. And now there was another hole in her life that could never be filled. Her grief was interrupted by the jangling sound of the phone ringing. She considered letting it ring but what if it was her father or brother? She needed to talk with them if she couldn’t be with them.
“Hello?” she said as calmly as she could.
“Tara?”
“Yes this is Tara,” she responded trying to place the voice on the phone.
“Tara this is Joseph D’Angelo, Eliza’s father,” the man explained.
“Yes sir,” she answered confused about his call.
He passed on his condolences: “I’m very sorry to hear about your grandmother Tara.”
“Thank you sir,” she accepted.
“Can you pack in an hour?” he asked.
“W-w-what?” Tara was completely confused about what he was saying. Obviously Eliza had called him after she had called the two girls at school.
“A car will be there to pick you up in an hour and take you to the airport Tara,” he explained firmly. “Can someone pick you up in Amarillo or should I call a driver there too?”
Finally the blonde grasped what he was saying. “Sir, thank you but I can’t let you do this,” she tried to refuse.
Mr. D’Angelo’s voice was simultaneously kind and gentle and firm: “Tara, the most important things in the world are family and love. A car will pick you up in a hour.”
“Thank you sir,” Tara responded.
Now it was Willow’s turn to be shocked, not about Mr. D’Angelo paying for Tara’s trip home but about her grandmother’s death: “what? That’s not right. Teresa just passed away this year. I saw her six months ago.”
Tara disagreed: “it it it is right. She broke her hip in September and k-k-kind of went downhill from there.”
“Well yeah, she broke her hip but it healed and…” Willow trailed off as the reason for the difference hit her.
“You and she went home for Thanksg-giving?” Tara asked. She continued sadly, “and she did some healing and y-y-you amplified for h-h-her?”
Willow reached out her hand to clasp Tara’s. “I’m so sorry Tara. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to help you,” she told the blonde. It was just starting to hit her that this woman had had a completely different life without her in it.
Tara quickly wiped her eyes and held out the propeller hat. “No f-f-fair trying to c-c-comfort m-m-me,” she teased, “more questions.”
Willow laughed as they traded once again.
---
Tara woke completely disoriented. Her leg throbbed and her side hurt as if she were lying on something unfamiliar. She opened her eyes and looked around trying to place the strange room. Noting the computers on the desk it all came back.
We played questions and answers for hours she realized and didn’t know when she had fallen asleep. Moving slightly she looked down at the bed to realize that the unfamiliar lump under her side was Willow’s arm. Apparently in her sleep she had rolled closer to the redhead and onto her outstretched arm. As she began to roll away, clenching her teeth against the bolt of pain shooting up her leg, she heard Willow murmur, “no just a little longer.”
Tara smiled as she extricated herself and gazed at Willow’s face. She had spent three years thinking about that face. She had filled sketchbook after sketchbook with images of it but it didn’t come close. The only word Tara could think of to describe the way Willow looked was angelic. She had one hand wrapped around the pillowcase and the other outstretched and she lay half on her back, half on her side. Tara wondered idly if Willow were a late or early riser, especially when she heard her stomach growl.
And it wasn’t just that initial meeting that had inspired her sketches. For over three years her sleeping hours were filled with Willow. She’d had dreams that filled her with love and longing and some that she couldn’t think of without blushing, even when she was all-alone. It was a memory that had become an obsession before settling into constant companionship. When the dreams had stopped it was like someone had shut off a necessary source of lifeblood for her. In the past three months her connection to the redhead had seemed so tenuous that she had palatably missed her.
Minutes later the blonde stood under the hot stream of water in Willow’s hotel shower. Surprisingly enough the hotel seemed to have plenty of hot water. Of course that might have had something to do with the fact that it was after 11 o’clock in the morning. Normally Tara would never sleep that late but she and Willow hadn’t stopped talking until the sun was nearly up.
As she stood in the shower, Tara thought of the things she needed to do. First on the list was calling Michelle and letting her know that she was ok. Tara had checked messages and her roommate had left two, the second sounding more worried than the first. It was a tradition for her to take Scooby to the park on Sundays and she needed to study. Finishing her mental list, she was able to review the evening and their long discussion. She had found out a lot about Willow and the other Tara’s life in Sunnydale and their friends and adventures. There were still some holes in her knowledge that gnawed at her but she didn’t feel any hurry about it.
In the meantime she had shared with Willow quite a bit about her life and especially her recovery from the accident. As it often did her mind filled with snippets of memories from the year following the accident:
Eliza sat next to Tara’s hospital bed reading from a thick book.
“You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;
Newts and blindworms, do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.”
Tara laughed out loud at both the writing and the way Eliza was reading. The younger girl seemed determined to entertain her friend and she was actually having fun.
Finally the younger girl knew why she was at school and what to do for the summer. Interspersed with singing and reading to Tara, Eliza was sharing more of herself. She had explained to Tara that as she neared the end of her spring semester, she had found herself completely lost as to what to do for the summer. Her father was very clear that she was not to work for her aunt and uncle again as he contended that she would only “get in trouble.” Even her contention that her relationship with Michelle would keep her out of that kind of trouble could not sway his opinion. Her choices, according to him, were to spend the summer at her brother’s house or at school. Knowing that with Michelle at USC she wouldn’t get to see her for months, she picked school believing that it was the least of two evils.
Eliza and Michelle had talked for months about Michelle’s college choice. She had received scholarship offers from many universities and they had finally chosen USC as the school which offered the best deal while still having good programs for Eliza to attend the following year.
So Eliza was upset about Tara’s injury and the loss of Chestnut, but she also had a better outlook on the summer. When she had called Michelle she had no idea that the girl would leave USC to come home to stay. She just needed help in pulling Tara out of her silence.
---
“Ok do three more,” Michelle coaxed.
Tara shot the runner an exhausted look as she raised her arms yet again, lifting the dumbbells high over her head.
“Two more,” Michelle told the blonde as she waved a bottle of water in front of her.
Tara again grunted as she lifted the weights.
Seeing the exhaustion on her face and doubting that she would actually be able to lift the weights again Michelle leaned over offering the prize she hoped would rejuvenate the witch: “finish and we can have lunch in the courtyard in the sunshine.”
Tara smiled as she easily lifted the weights a final time. The runner was putting her habits in keeping up her training regime to good use working with her friend to build up her arm muscles. She had met with every doctor and quite a few physical therapists to find out what she could do to help Tara. Initially reluctant to allow a young girl, and not even a relative, such a close relationship with Tara’s recovery, they had quickly realized how powerful her role in shaping Tara’s progress would be. Michelle attended every physical therapy session with her friend and met with the physical therapists to find out what exercises she could help the blonde with outside of the sessions.
---
As Tara waited for Michelle to get the wheelchair from the trunk of Eliza’s car, she felt trepidation and terror. That and nausea. The nausea seemed to roll through her stomach and body without ending. Her first ride in a car in months, combined with the strain on her leg as she was moved from the hospital had been very hard on the witch. It was hard to know whether to feel more loved or humiliated at the sensory memory of Eliza leaning behind her, one arm around her stomach to support her, the other hand holding her hair back from her face as she vomited onto the pavement.
Now she stared up at the building where it seemed she had spent so much of her life. Four years she had lived in that building. Four years plus one summer plus four weeks and now she was returning there. But not to her roof under the stars. Honestly she wondered if she would ever be in her old room again. The stairs… Over two months and she hadn’t yet taken a step. Worse, if she understood correctly she would have to learn to walk twice: once with the metal brace on her leg--no not on, through -- and once after it was removed.
As she helped her into the wheelchair Michelle hummed to her friend, “wait till you see your surprise Tare.”
Eliza leaned down to whisper in her ear, “you’ll love it.”
Tara reached out and grasped Chelle’s hand asking, “w-w-why are w-w-we coming h-h-here?” Even as she asked she took note of the fresh planks on the ramp leading to the front doors of the dorm. Someone had obviously been busy. Pushing her through the doors Michelle turned quickly into a room just off the hall. “What the…..?” Tara trailed off looking around the room.
She sat in a room which had obviously just been remodeled. It had extra-wide doorways and a lower sink. Looking up she noted the many twinkling lights adorning the corners of the room and thousands of small glowing star and moon stickers on the ceiling. “We thought we’d bring the night sky to you,” Eliza whispered in her ear as tears formed in the blonde’s eyes.
“But how? W-w-why?” Tara stuttered.
As Michelle turned the wheelchair she pushed Tara toward the door in the side of the room. Quickly the blonde realized that the room was now part of a suite. Between this room and the other was a fully handicapped-accessible bathroom. Michelle and Eliza’s belongings were recognizable in the second room.
Eliza sat on the edge of the bed as she explained, “father talked to the school. He helped them understand that they would like to set this up for you.”
A slight smile graced Tara’s face as she thought of the large man. “My patron,” she agreed fondly.
---
Tara sat in her wheelchair feeling like she was going to be sick. She was so nervous she didn’t know what to do. The only thing keeping her rooted was Michelle’s hand tucked tightly in her own. Both had their eyes and ears on the physical therapist. Today would be the day. The day. The big day.
The physical therapist had warned both girls not to expect much. Her goal for the day was to get Tara standing, no steps, just standing holding the parallel bars as she supported Tara. Michelle released the blonde’s hand and moved slightly to the side as the therapist began helping Tara to stand.
As she followed the therapist’s instructions, knowing that she was doing the minor portion of the work, Tara gritted her teeth against the pain that shot through her leg. She had come to expect pain with sudden movement. Sometimes she woke up in the night screaming after turning in her sleep.
The sensation of standing was nearly overwhelming to Tara. The pain was unparalleled but she also felt pride that she was standing, not on her own, and not well, but nonetheless she was standing. No wonder people are so excited when their babies walk she thought. After a few moments the therapist lowered her back into the chair, wiping the sweat from her brow and allowing her to rest.
Tara came back to her awareness of the here and now. She also was thinking of many of the things Willow had shared with her. At first it had seemed that the redhead didn’t want to tell her the somewhat spectacular and peculiar events in her life but when she realized that Tara was truly interested and believed her, she became more and more forthcoming.
She found the stories fascinating. More than that, she found Willow fascinating and intriguing. She could tell that the redhead was holding back a lot. Her pain was obviously still fresh. More than that, it seemed that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing some aspects of her relationship with her lover with this version of that same woman. As Tara thought about that, she realized maybe that was for the best. Obviously Willow had no idea of the realism of this Tara’s thoughts and dreams about her.
She had finished toweling off and dressing in her clothes from yesterday and was brushing her hair when she heard a light knock on the door to the bathroom. “Tara? Do-do you need anything?”
Tara smiled at the voice coming through the door. “I’ll b-b-be out in a minute,” Willow she called. Moments later she stepped out to find Willow sitting on the edge of the bed holding two cups of coffee.
She stood and handed a mug to the blonde: “It’s cinnamon. I hope you like that but if not I can always get vanilla or French Roast or whatever you like. I didn’t really know what you drink until the other day and then I didn’t know you’d be coming over and spending the night last night. Not that you spent the …” Willow stopped speaking finally when she realized that after taking a drink of the coffee Tara was smiling her half-smile at her. “You could stop me you know,” the redhead pouted.
“I l-l-like it,” Tara teased as she took another drink. Willow smiled back as she wondered if Tara meant the coffee or the babbling or both.
Willow tapped her hands nervously on her hips as she watched Tara drinking her coffee. “Well look at you all clean and shiny,” she began nervously. Having the sudden sinking feeling that the day was going to slip right away from her and Tara with it she plunged forward: “uh maybe after I shower you would like to do something like have breakfast or lunch or you could show me around town or something like that?” She trailed off at the end with a hopeful smile that she suspected looked as desperate as it did hopeful.
Tara looked at her coffee intently for a few moments before answering the redhead. “I-I-I need to do some …”
“Oh right, Sunday you probably have a lot of studying or need to work or something today,” Willow picked up. “Or maybe you already had plans with someone or something and that’s ok too. I mean not that you can’t have plans or anything like that because certainly plans are good and you can have good plans…” She sat heavily on the edge of the couch looking at the floor and mumbling to herself.
Tara was alternately amused and horrified at Willow’s speeches this morning. The redhead’s babbling was completely endearing and adorable. But she seemed to be running herself into a hole in the ground. The blonde leaned forward and brushed her fingertips softly through Willow’s hair as she whispered, “I need to s-s-study today and work tonight.” As Willow looked up more hopefully Tara took a deep breath asking, “but maybe y-y-you would like to have dinner on Tuesday?”
Willow stood up quickly as she nodded and answered simultaneously, “definitely. Count me in. I’m totally available anytime.” A moment of doubt plagued her as she realized that she was sounding like “way-too-available-girl.” But just as quickly she thought,
Fuck sounding nonchalant. She already knows I traveled across dimensions to meet with her. It’s a little too late to play hard to get at this point. Tara smiled at Willow’s answer, feeling that her honesty was refreshing. The woman of her dreams--quite literally--had finally arrived and she wanted to make herself totally available to Tara. It was a definite change for her and very enticing. “I don’t have your n-number,” she gently prodded the redhead.
Willow quickly wrote down the number at the hotel and handed it to the blonde. As she did so their fingers brushed together and she felt the familiar sensation of their energy blending. Even after years of this she had never gotten used to it and took a deep breath as she noticed the blonde doing the same. Of course for Tara it would be more of a shock. “Th-thanks,” Tara stuttered as she took the paper and slowly withdrew her hand. After a second she motioned toward the door: “I need to…”
“Oh right,” Willow agreed as she walked ahead of the blonde to pull open the door, turning toward Tara who approached with her cane in one hand and the now empty mug in the other. As Tara stopped in the doorway Willow looked at her nervously. “Well,” the redhead started.
Both girls looked intently into the other’s eyes as they stood at the door unsure what to do now. For a second Willow thought that Tara was going to lean forward and kiss her and she certainly would have met her half way. But just as it seemed that the blonde’s head would dip toward Willow, she broke the eye contact to glance at her mug. Extending her hand she offered the empty container back as she stuttered nervously, “h-h-here’s …”
“Right,” Willow agreed as she took the cup. As she did so she intentionally allowed her fingers to brush against Tara’s. Maybe it was dirty-pool but she wanted the blonde to feel the magic of their connection as often as possible.
Willow was eminently aware of the blonde staring at the sparks popping from their flesh where their fingers met. Suddenly Tara took a few steps back and out the door. “I’ll c-c-call you about Tuesday ok?” she confirmed. Willow started nodding but before she could answer Tara had turned and begun limping toward her car. Willow watched Tara’s slow progress until the blonde reached her car, started it, and drove away. She had to be satisfied with the brief wave the blonde offered just before lowering herself into the car. As smile spread across the redhead’s face as she realized that at this point, she was satisfied with just that.
---
"Seek the company of those who are still seeking the truth and run away from those who think they have found it.--J.T. O'Hara
Edited by: JustSkipIt at: 7/5/03 4:12 pm
I agree with Washi's quoted segments, those lines really got to me. Although, I must admit I thought at least one of the girls would be like, "So your Tara died and.. What, your here to steal ours?" I'm glad they didn't, but I have a feeling something of the like will come up eventually...
. I read it at least ten times that phrase, but it was still the same, so I just continu with the story. 
)
. In the end will their unique connection be enough to work through that if that’s even a problem? I was just wondering. 
but no flying pig. Hear that emoticon god or goddess?
at: 7/10/03 7:42 pm
poor baby
and sometimes 
I can't wait to see what happens to 
and 
.
