collapses
edited 'cause I always end up with little smiley faces beside my action marks...
[This message has been edited by Willowlicious (edited November 26, 2001).]
by Willowlicious » Mon Nov 26, 2001 8:39 am
collapses
edited 'cause I always end up with little smiley faces beside my action marks...
[This message has been edited by Willowlicious (edited November 26, 2001).]
by tommo » Mon Nov 26, 2001 10:03 am
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"Welcome to the nancy tribe."
by CaptMurdock » Sun Dec 02, 2001 12:58 am
Part 6
The quiet sighs had faded into a comfortable silence as the sun went down. A hand reached down to the foot of the bed and drew a blanket and sheet over two bodies that had suddenly become chilled in the aftermath of intense lovemaking. The larger of the two women turned onto her side and stretched an arm over her lover, as if afraid that she would somehow escape.
"I knew you'd come back," Tara whispered as she held Willow in the twilight.
The redheaded witch turned to the blonde, a neutral expression on her face. "You shouldn't have let me go."
Tara winced at the accusatory tone. "I had no choice. I was becoming as lost as you."
"But we'll always find each other. Right? So how can we get lost?" The setting sun seemed to divide Willow's face, darkening the left side into bloody shadows.
"When we lose who we are. There was something in your head that wasn't you, and someone in mine that wasn't me."
Willow turned away then, staring up at the ceiling. "Why couldn't you help me?"
Tara sat up, hugging her knees to her breasts. "I told you. When they found out who you really were, I wouldn't be able to help you." She looked down toward the end of the bed. "It was inevitable. They just couldn't see who you were until it was too late."
The figure on the other side of the bed reached over with her left arm to grip Tara's leg. The arm was puckered with open sores, with fluid cascading down onto the bedspread. Wide-eyed, Tara turned to regard her lover…
…and beheld the horror of Willow Rosenberg, half-dead, the left side of her body a mass of rotting flesh, the left side of her face disintegrated, the left side of her mouth frozen in the false grimace of tissue necrosis.
Yet, somehow, the right side of her body, pink and flush with health, was somehow worse. Illusion or not, the living flesh seemed to be trying to crawl away from the dead. In contrast to the left eye, blackened and shrunk sightless in its socket, the right eye seemed alive, desperate, as if it somehow knew the fate that had befallen its neighbor.
Gagging, Tara leapt off the bed, unconsciously dragging the blanket and sheet with her. Not the brightest move she ever made, as that just exposed more of the half-and-half horror she had just had sex with. "W-W-Willow…?" she cried, barely able to look at the travesty and yet unable to look away.
Someone, the half-corpse managed to look smug. "It's not as if you haven't been there yourself," it said, its words slurred by half-dead lips, the rotting hand pointed to the mirror over the drawer-chest.
Tara looked, and was horrified to see a desiccated skull sitting on her shoulders, with holes near her temples, as if someone could have used her head for a bowling ball, and the skull still had eyes, it had her eyes…
Tara came awake with a gasp that she barely managed to keep from being a full-blown scream. Sweating and nauseous, she looked around to see that she was alone in her room at the Summers house. She took a few deep breaths, which did little except tell her that the nausea was not going to pass her by without decorating the bed sheets. Immediately, she bolted to the bathroom, where her stomach surrendered the contents of last night's dinner. Thank God her hair was still scrunchied-up.
It's a shame, really, something in the back of her mind said, halfway through the ritual of Praying to The Porcelain Goddess, because Dawn's turned into a halfway decent cook…
When she had finally finished that little chore, she flushed the toilet and stood on shaky legs to wash her face, particularly the inside of her mouth, at the bathroom sink. A quick look inside the cabinet revealed – yes! – mouthwash. Swishing the minty liquid around her mouth to get rid of the vomit taste, Tara ended up with a mouth that tasted like…well, minty vomit.
"Plaaagh."
Tara opened the door of her bedroom gingerly, listening for the sounds of one or both of the Summers sisters getting up in response to Tara's bathroom activities. Thankfully, neither one seemed inclined to stir. Buffy had been rather tired this evening – extra-heavy vamp activity and, though she would not admit it openly, a quick liaison with Spike – and Dawn slept like the d-- Log. Like a log.
Closing the door and sitting on the bed, Tara tried to make sense of the dream, or rather, tried to come to a reasonable interpretation than the one that pretty much had stamped itself on her brain the moment she woke up. In the two months since Willow had returned from the unknown, Tara had not gone to see her, nor had she evinced much interest in the news of her progress, at least to other people. In truth, she had absorbed every detail of the prognosis of Willow's stroke, of the regimen of physical therapy she was undergoing as an outpatient, and of her living situation at her parents' house.
She had passed by Casa Rosenberg three times in the last few weeks since Willow had gone there upon her discharge from Sunnydale General. Tara was not worried about "the in-laws," as Xander liked to jokingly call them on Tara's behalf. Ira and Sheila, after a period of substantial awkwardness, hemming and hawing, and questions of every stripe from "Are you sure it's not a phase?" to "Are you planning on artificial insemination? Oh, a doctor friend of mine just donated!" pretty much accepted that their one and only daughter was in love with a woman. A non-Jewish woman, at that.
("You think she might, y'know, convert?" Sheila had asked Ira in the Rosenberg kitchen, when Tara was not as out of earshot as they had thought, one night after dinner.
"Tara? I'm still working on Willow!" replied Ira.)
Tara just couldn't get up the courage to go see her. She tried to tell herself that it was because she hadn't forgiven Willow for the memory-erase spell, or for breaking her promise not to do magic. Granted, she hadn't. Really. But the real reason, one that she couldn't admit to Buffy or Xander or Dawn (although Anya, with her typical and annoying perception, has sussed it out and been subsequently sworn to secrecy) was that she couldn't look Willow in the eye after her stupid outburst at her hospital bed. The person you often find it hardest to forgive is yourself.
Tara lay back on the bed and stared at the off-white ceiling, as if it was accusing her along with her subconscious.
"Okay," she said. "I got the message."
***********
"So this is the Torture Chamber," Buffy remarked, as she and Xander walked around the rehabilitative therapy center where Willow had been going twice a week since she got out of the hospital.
"Yeah, I know. We've come a long way since the rack and thumb screws," he replied, looking at the equipment that looked like it came from a gymnasium.
Buffy nodded, then frowned. "What are thumb screws?"
"I think they're like thumbtacks. Anyway, the guy said she would be at the pool."
"Pool? Sounds like big-time punishment." The two young adults followed the signs towards the pool area, where stroke patients could be exercised to help regain at least some of their physical mobility.
A muscular man of about fifty was in the room, dressed in a spandex tank top and swim trucks. Seeing them, he strode over with a professional grin on his face. "You must be Miss Summers, and Mr. Harris," he said, shaking each of their hands in turn. "I'm George. I'm one of Miss…uh, Willow's physical therapists."
"Well, why don't you make it Buffy and Xander, then," Buffy replied, taking a liking to this fatherly teddy-bear.
"In case you were wondering, I'm Xander," the young man beside her added.
George nodded. "Well, that clears up a lot of confusion on my end." He smiled briefly. "Actually, I had also tried to contact a Miss Maclay…" he trailed off uncertainly.
"Tara. Yeah, she and Will were…pretty close, for a while," Buffy proferred, deciding that a little discretion regarding their exact relationship couldn't hurt. "Uh, she said that she didn't…feel comfortable coming." She didn't look at Xander, but she could feel him bristle at that statement.
If George picked up on any underlying emotions, he kept it to himself. "That's too bad. Your friend needs all the moral support she can get. I'm hoping you two being here with spur her on a little."
"What do ya mean?" asked Xander.
"She's not very cooperative with us. I mean, she let's us take her down into the pool, and she just…sits there, letting us move her around. If she's going to get any better, she needs to move herself, at least within the limits of her current range-of-motion." George looked over their shoulders. "Oh, here's my partner. Heike, this is Buffy and Xander, friends of Willow."
"Hello," said the new arrival, a dark-haired, olive-complected lady a few years young than George, with an accent that sounded a cross between German and Spanish. "I am Heike. I'm very pleased to meet the both of you. Willow is getting changed in the locker room, with the help of one of our assistants. I have to make sure we have towels and robe for her when she gets out." She moved off towards a storage area in the back. George similarly excused himself to get something else ready, leaving Willow's would-be cheering section alone.
"'I am Heike, heinemacherfrau of the SS!'" Xander intoned quietly. Buffy, despite herself, started giggling, lightly slapping Xander on the arm as he started laughing, allowing himself a quick groan at the pain.
"You ass!" she whispered back when she got back under control. "Anyway, I bet you don’t even know what 'heinemacherfrau' means!"
"It means 'cleaning woman,'" Heike answered, appearing behind them with almost supernatural stealth. She fixed Xander with a stern gaze. "As it happens, young man, I am from Argentina. And before you make any comments about expatriate Nazis," she added warningly, "I am quite capable to throwing you over my shoulder and dropping you in the pool!" Xander blanched, nodded and turned away, so he missed the wink that Heike threw Buffy, and Buffy's attempts to hide her smile. "I will go and get Willow now."
Three minutes later, Heike brought Willow out in her wheelchair, dressed in bathing suit and robe. The young woman's spirits did perk up a bit when she saw her visitors. "Hey, guys! What brings you here?"
Xander shrugged. "Just came to see you do your impression of Ethel Merman."
Willow blinked. "Xander, you know I can't sing. Thanks to a certain tap-dancing, uh…" she trailed off, as George and Heike were standing not five feet away.
"I think he means Esther Williams, Will," Buffy supplied helpfully. "Y'know, swimming and stuff?"
Willow's demeanor deflated visibly. "Oh. Well, set your DefCon to severe disappointment, then."
Several minutes later, after George and Heike virtually carried Willow into the shallow pool, her dire prediction seemed to come true. Even to laypersons such as Xander and Buffy, it was obvious that Willow just wasn't trying as George and Heike moved her about in the pool, trying to get her to exercise the left half of her body.
Nearby, in the shadows of the doorway leading to the pool area, a solitary figure watched the proceedings, and appeared to come to a sudden decision. A shoulder bag was dropped to the floor and sandals were quickly slipped off.
"C'mon, Will," Buffy said, standing on the carpeted deck next to the pool. "Please…you've got to try to move more."
"Buffy," replied the redhead between clenched teeth, "what part of 'I can't do this' do you not get? I mean, the dumb blonde thing, you're abusing the privilege!"
George and Heike looked at one another while they supported Willow in the water between them. Buffy crossed her arms in her characteristic gesture of anger, while Xander looked as if he was about to jump on Willow's case, at least figuratively.
"Wanna try that line on me, Will?" said a voice off to one side. There stood Tara, dressed in a loose peasant shirt and hiking shorts, which were apparently under the wraparound skirt that she was just taking off. After a quick wave to Buffy and Xander, Tara stepped gingerly into the pool, silently thanking various benevolent deities that this water was kept warm for the benefit of the patients. "Or-or am I not blonde enough for you? Well, blame Miss Clairol."
"What are you doing here?" Willow asked, bewildered as her former girlfriend walked-swam over to her and took her under the armpits.
"Getting soaked, for one thing. You can go now," Tara added to George and Heike.
"Waitaminnit, we can't—" George began.
"Go. Over. There," Tara intoned, indicating the side of the pool with her eyes. "Please," she added. With expressions of acquiescence, the PTs complied. Xander looked at Buffy and, with a few hand-gestures and facial expressions, managed to silently convey Did she just do a Jedi mind-trick on those guys? Buffy shook her head, although she could not be absolutely sure herself.
"All right, Will, start moving," Tara said, walking backwards in the water, pulling Willow with her.
Unfortunately, Willow seemed no more inclined to cooperate than before. "I can't, Tara."
"Yes, you can."
"I can't! My body, it's like, completely useless."
Tara stopped abruptly. "Maybe it's you who's useless," she said, slackening her grip on Willow's torso. The redhead started to sink in the water, apparently unable to even stand upright by herself.
George and Heike, alarmed, were about to move towards the two women, when they both felt a delicate but strong hand on their shoulders. "Don’t," Buffy said, somewhere between a request and a direct order. "She knows what she's doing," managing to keep the uncertainty she felt out of her voice.
At the last instant, Willow managed, with great effort, to lift herself up enough to keep her head above the water. "What are you…trying…to do to…" she muttered between clenched teeth, the pain of her unused muscles almost more than she could stand. Mercifully, Tara once again took her weight upon herself, letting Willow relax again.
"I'm trying to help you, Willow. Problem is, you don't want to help yourself. Now, come on, move with me."
"Tara, please. It's too hard." Tears of frustration, pain and anger appeared in Willow's eyes.
"Did you ever quit anything before?" Tara asked harshly. "Did you ever quit in front of Xander, or Buffy? Or Dawn? Y'know, that kid loves you, even in the face of all your screw-ups. Don't let her down anymore."
Willow's face burned, even as she willed her left arm and leg to move, even by millimeters. "I hate you," she spat at her former girlfriend.
If it was meant to hurt Tara, the barb might as well been a spitball thrown at a rhinoceros. "G-good. I hear that's an excellent way to start this sort of thing."
For the next half-hour, Willow managed to make her way around the pool, supported by Tara for the most part. The physical therapists remarked how it was more progress than they had seen with Willow since she had been coming here. Little by little, as Willow began to move with greater range-of-motion, so too had she and Tara been more able to feel like civilized human beings in each other's presence.
"Um, Will, what I said in your hospital room," Tara began at one point.
"No. I mean, don't you dare apologize, or say you didn't mean it. The first one means, you regret you said it, which you shouldn't …and the second one, I have a hard time believing you didn't mean it. I think you meant every word," Tara winced, but Willow plowed on, "and I'm glad."
"Are you?" Tara asked, hope and (admittedly) skepticism in her voice.
"I think so. You bitch." The obscenity was in such a tongue-in-cheek tone that Tara chuckled.
Buffy and Xander took turns filling Willow in on recent developments (omitting, for George and Heike's benefit, any "classified" material). After a while, Willow became very fatigued, so George insisted that they stop for the day. Tara made Willow promise that from then on, she would put at least as much effort into her therapy.
As they prepared to take her out of the pool, Willow asked them to hold off for a second. Clumsily, she moved toward Tara and embraced her, the left arm artlessly draping around Tara's hip, but at least in the game. Tara returned the embrace, supporting Willow's weight one final time.
"Thanks," Willow whispered.
"You did the same for me," Tara answered before basically handing her back to George and Heike. Transferring Willow to the wheelchair and wrapping her in towels, they wheeled her to the locker room.
Tara breathed outward in a sigh of satisfaction, falling backward into the water and floating on her back, staring towards the ceiling. After a few seconds of this, she climbed out of the pool near Xander and Buffy, who looked a little misty-eyed.
"That was…uh…like…wow," the Slayer said, at once a loss for words.
"That was pretty cool, Tara," Xander added. "And something else pretty cool…the effect of water on peasant-type blouses." He gazed at her somewhat south of her eyes. She followed his look down to her almost transparent…
"Ahhh!" she cried, trying to cover her chest. Luckily there was a spare towel on a table nearby, which she grabbed and wrapped around herself.
"Yeah, wet t-shirt contests, down the hall," Buffy quipped as Tara scrambled to recover her other items.
Six months after.
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"Good God, that's a lot of shake!"
by delany » Sun Dec 02, 2001 1:25 am
by xita » Sun Dec 02, 2001 1:30 am
by Rane » Sun Dec 02, 2001 2:02 am
"Tara? I'm still working on Willow!" replied Ira.)
sounds like my folks! i dont think i've ever hit so many ranges of emotion during one little chapter. this was fantastic. so sweet, and heartbreaking and funny at times. sigh... more, please. soon too.
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TARA- We're forgetting about the troll. Let's pay attention to the troll.
by Dr.G » Sun Dec 02, 2001 2:15 am
by SeanGaffney » Sun Dec 02, 2001 3:13 am
--SG
by legend » Sun Dec 02, 2001 4:31 am
*Joins in the chant for MORE! MORE! MORE!*
by emily 'first' » Sun Dec 02, 2001 6:19 am
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vive,valeque.
by aladdin » Sun Dec 02, 2001 8:20 am
And about the "heinemacherfrau".. I guess you mean "reinemacherfrau" which would be a German term from, I dunno, the early 1920's??
The pool scene almost made me cry, that was so wonderful...and the end *chuckle*
by Stranger » Sun Dec 02, 2001 4:52 pm
by karenk » Sun Dec 02, 2001 5:23 pm
by tommo » Mon Dec 03, 2001 12:19 am
And just as an aside, 'Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid' is one of my favourite movies. Heh.
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"Yeah, cheers, thanks a lot." ~ Patsy Stone
by mollyig » Mon Dec 03, 2001 5:49 am
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Anya: You think it's sensible for me to go down into that pit of
cotton-top hell, and let them hippity-hop all over my vulnerable flesh?
by Puff » Mon Dec 03, 2001 3:35 pm
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Bloody hell, sodding, limey, shagging, knickers, bollocks...oh God...I'm English
by CaptMurdock » Fri Dec 07, 2001 7:45 am
And, y'know, it's not like I don't have a wife,and kids,and a job, and cats, and computers, and fruit bats and breakfast cereals,and orangutangs... [sound effect of coconut hitting head] Sorry. Or, as Cleavon Little put it in Blazing Saddles:
"Baby, please! I am not from Havana!"
No, I don't know what that means, precisely. YMMV.
I appreciate all your nice comments. For the most part, the heavy angsty parts are over, as Willow is on the road to recovery. However, I will tell you that the road is long, and her problems reach back into her past. Tara is there to help her (with a little help from an unexpected source).
Keep reading. And, thanks.
------------------
"Good God, that's a lot of shake!"
[This message has been edited by CaptMurdock (edited December 07, 2001).]
by Rane » Fri Dec 07, 2001 10:01 am
[This message has been edited by Rane (edited December 07, 2001).]
by mariacomet » Fri Dec 07, 2001 10:04 am
Very involving story. Hope to see more...well whenever real life lets you.
by CaptMurdock » Tue Dec 11, 2001 8:29 am
***************
"I can never feel comfortable in a church," Angel muttered to Wesley and Gunn as they made their way towards the groom's dressing room. It had been a long time since he had really set foot inside one, especially during the day, though he did appreciate fact that the parking area was covered, shielding him from direct sunlight. Nice touch, he thought as he stepped out of the rented van with the specially-darkened windows. Of course, it's bad form to incinerate one of your groomsmen.
"I do hope they covered up all the crucifixes for you," Wesley commented.
"Depends. Maybe this is one of those funky, radical 'Church o' What's Happ'nin' Now' establishments," smirked Gunn. "Crosses strictly optional, bring your own soul." He grinned, then held his hands up in a placating gesture as Angel tossed a dirty look over his shoulder. "Sorry, man. Peace."
"In here, I think." The vampire led his associates to a partially-closed door. Inside the room were a couple of armchairs, a dresser with an oval mirror over it, and the groom, who was facing away from the door, getting his cravat straightened by the "father of the bride."
"Keep still, Xander," Giles admonished. "It doesn't have to hang like it's got a lead anvil on the end, it requires a bit of…Angel!" The Watcher noticed the three new arrivals.
Xander turned and jumped in mock horror. "BAAaah…oh, it's just you." Off of Angel's exasperated expression, Xander sobered. "Seriously, I'm glad you could make it. Thanks." He stuck out his hand.
Angel paused for a moment, then shook Xander's hand. In truth, he had only accepted Xander's request to be one of his groomsmen because Buffy had asked him to (and he suspected that was the reason Xander asked in the first place). In that instant, however, he decided to let bygones lay with sleeping dogs, or however that went. If Xander could get over his crush with Buffy and make a life with Anya, Angel decided he could be big enough to get over his lingering animosity. "I'm glad too."
Wesley and Gunn waited patiently in the background, wondering which of the two would get around to noticing they were present. So engrossed in this were they that they failed to notice the small figure get up from the armchair in the corner and walk over to them. "Hey."
"Wha—" Wesley exclaimed, surprised. Gunn didn't make similar noises, but he did mentally kick himself for letting someone "sneak up" on him like that. Wesley recovered quickly when recognition flooded him. "Oz!"
The diminutive guitarist and part-time werewolf was dressed much like Xander, Angel and Giles, in rather Edwardian charcoal-grey long coats, trousers and waistcoats, with red cravats in place of neckties. Oz shook Wesley's hand formally. "Good to see you again, Wes." He then turned to Wesley's companion, the only person in the room he did not know, and introduced himself. "Daniel Osbourne."
"Charles Gunn." The two shook hands.
Xander blinked. "Waitasec…you're Gunn?!? I thought you were Fred!"
Gunn, for his part, looked more bemused than irritated. "Yeah, I get that a lot…seein' as we look so much alike." Angel and Wesley snorted their amusement. Oz, not following any of this, glanced over at Xander and Giles and did his fishhook-in-the-eyebrow routine.
Angel decided to take pity on the poor groom. "Actually, Fred is a She…"
"It's short for 'Winnifred'," Wesley supplied helpfully, while making his way over to Giles. "Hello, Rupert."
"Well, whoever you are, I'm glad you could make it," Xander said sincerely, shaking Gunn's hand. "After all, any friend of Angel's is…someone I ask why they bother." Gunn threw back his head and laughed, while Angel rolled his eyes and the other men smiled.
"So where is this Fred…and Cordelia?" Oz asked.
"They both went to peek in on the bride," Wesley replied. "So, now, I take it that since you're dressed in this gunslinger outfit like these three—" The former Watcher and rogue demon hunter had made do with a dark double-breasted pinstripe, while Gunn wore a dark blue raw silk suit and maroon tie, all the while fidgeting and looking like a little kid posing for pictures for Grandma; "I take it you’re the Best Man. I am guessing, here, because if there were rehearsals, I didn't hear about them."
"Yeah, Wes, we kept 'em top secret from ya. Naaah, actually, coordinating everybody's schedules was driving Anya even more crazy, so we decided we'd wait till all you guys were here, then we'd do a quick briefing and wing it from there," Xander explained.
"And, uh, to answer your question," Oz added, "No. I'm just a groomsman."
"Oh? Rupert, then. Obvious choice, really…"
"Erm, no, actually, Wesley," Giles corrected, grinning. "It's actually my, well, honor, to give the bride away."
"Oh…well, congratulations," Wesley said, backpedaling.
"And just the right amount of hesitation on the 'honor' part," Xander added dryly but without rancor.
Wesley by this time gave up but Gunn took up the slack. "So who's your best man…not…" he indicated in Angel's general direction. This made both him and the groom laugh derisively, Xander somehow managing a "Not on your unlife" in the midst of trying to catch his breath.
"Actually," he said as soon as he was able to talk in a normal-pitched voice, "the best man just arrived. Hey, there."
The other men in the room turned around towards the door. There, dressed in the same "gunslinger" outfit as the rest of the groom's party, and supporting herself with two metal orthopedic canes, complete with forearm cuffs, stood Willow Rosenberg.
"Hi, guys," she said.
************
"Oh mah goodness!" said Fred as she followed Cordelia into the bride's lounge, where Anya, her bridesmaid's and her maid of honor were waiting. "Y'all look just…beautiful."
"Well, thank you very much!" the bride said said, lifting the skirt of her gown to try to put on her matching shoes. "So who are you?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Anya, everybody, this is Fred. Y'know, the girl we picked up in another dimension…?"
One of the bridesmaids, a girl of about fifteen, piped up. "Oh yeah! I heard that story. Angel was all, like, getting a suntan, couldn't pry him from the mirror, that is when he wasn’t Grrr Super-Demon."
Cordelia chuckled. "Dawn, they outta hire you on television shows, to do like those 'Previously on the last episode' recaps? You just boil it down to the basics."
Dawn's smile flattened, and she turned towards another bridesmaid, one with a certain family resemblance. "Is she mocking me?" she asked, sotto voce.
The second gal muttered back uncertainly, "I dunno. Hard to tell." She turned back to Cordelia. "Good to see you, Cordy," she said with passable sincerity.
"You, too, Buffy. Nice to have you back from, uh…"
"The dead? Yeah, bit of a drag there, but I pulled out of the depression phase. Nice to meet you, Fred."
Dawn then asked. "So, uh, where's 'Damien', huh?"
"Dawn!" Buffy remonstrated.
Anya broke in, as the maid of honor helped her with her shoes. "Well, it's sorta appropriate. I mean, he is the son of a demon, right?" She broke off as she noticed the dirty look Buffy was giving her.
Fred giggled. "Conner's staying with our friend Lorne, at the hotel we all live at."
Cordelia decided that this would be a good time to change the subject. "Dawn…my God, you are just growing up so fast. If you get any prettier, why, Buffy might have to start worrying!"
"I already do," the Slayer grumbled.
"So do I," the maid of honor added.
Fred introduced herself to Anya, Buffy and Dawn, but got stuck on the maid of honor. "Ah, I don't know your name, do I?"
"Th-that's okay, I really don't know who you are…except that Cordelia just told me," the blonde girl said. "I'm Tara."
"Hi," Fred said as they shook hands. Like the other bridesmaids, Tara wore an off-the-shoulder blue-white dress that managed to both complement and contrast the bridal gown. Cordelia had to admit, the whole ensemble was terrific. I should get Anya to coordinate my wedding. Did I really think that out loud, out loud in my head, at least? Dear God, one hour back in this town and I'm starting to sound like Willow!
"So…Tara," the part-time actor, full-time Helper of the Helpless said, "It's good to finally meet you." This is the girl that made Willow switch teams? Hunh…not nearly as butch as I was imagining. Really kinda pretty, once you get past the whole mousy thing.
"Okay, let me see if I have this straight," Fred began. "Cordelia, you used to date the groom…"
"Briefly," deponent sayeth with clenched teeth.
"And when you caught him kissing…the best man…you burned his picture and accidentally summoned the bride…"
"I used to be a vengeance demon," Anya supplied, while her bridesmaids rolled their eyes in oh-here-we-go-again. "And I granted Cordelia's wish that Buffy," pause while subject waves its hand, "never came to Sunnydale, which resulted not only in a huge change in the space/time continuum, but also in my power center being destroyed, so I became trapped in mortal form, which led to my having sex with and falling in love with the groom." She beamed as she finished her peroration.
Fred took a deep breath, then turned to Cordelia. "I'm going to need another chart."
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"Good God, that's a lot of shake!"
by mollyig » Tue Dec 11, 2001 8:46 am
I love Fred trying to figure out the dynamics of how they all met.
As usual, you've got the characters perfectly portrayed. Cordelia's comments about Tara were trademark Cordy!
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"To let this love survive would be the greatest gift that we could give"
Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls)
[This message has been edited by mollyig (edited December 11, 2001).]
by SeanGaffney » Tue Dec 11, 2001 8:49 am
--SG
by nika » Tue Dec 11, 2001 9:09 am
by Willow Rocks » Tue Dec 11, 2001 12:10 pm
by tommo » Tue Dec 11, 2001 12:12 pm
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"You evil bitch troll from hell!" ~ Patsy Stone
by mariacomet » Tue Dec 11, 2001 7:45 pm
quote:
Originally posted by CaptMurdock:
Fred took a deep breath, then turned to Cordelia. "I'm going to need another chart."
LOL. That is genuis!
quote:by Puff » Thu Dec 13, 2001 10:34 am
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Bloody hell, sodding, limey, shagging, knickers, bollocks...oh God...I'm English
by tommo » Thu Dec 13, 2001 2:00 pm
Damn.
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"You evil bitch troll from hell!" ~ Patsy Stone
by Rane » Thu Dec 13, 2001 2:57 pm
anyhoo, capt, awesome udapte. i've always seen Willow as Xand's best man no matter what. and i LOVE fred, ya hear. she's hilarious and cordy with the gang and i like how oz appeared an there doesn't seem to be any (as of yet) issues with him/will/tara. yet... lol... i dunno. weddings should be fun and happy and who's marrying the two? Lorne? just kidding.
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