Okay, Kittens, took a little time, but here's another part. Guess it's not really posting faster than DF, but who's looking? Anyway, hope you all enjoy it!
Title: Insight
Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, please, we’re all friends here)
Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com Feedback: Again, please, I’d love it.
Distribution: This, like Darkness Falls, is the narrative form of a spec script I had written for BVS, which is registered with the WGAw, so please don’t publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason you’d like to, just ask first. It’s the polite thing to do.
Spoilers: Hmm, I’d say definitely up to Season 6. Past “Hell’s Bells” but not up to “Entropy.” Yeah, somewhere around the middle of those, but I’m taking liberties.
Rating: This covers the story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC–17. This includes sex, some mild violence, language.
Pairing: Willow and Tara, of course. Buffy and the others are here as well.
Disclaimer: Hey, I didn’t create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. I’m just borrowing them for the story I did write. As for the notebook entry(I changed some words to fit the context of my story – no offense or infringement was intended) it was taken from “If You Only Knew” by Gladys Knight, Attala Zane Giles, and Kevin Dorsey.
Summary: The Scoobies have gotten back together, just not “back together.” Tara’s got some kind of “power.” Buffy’s “gone missing.” And, then there are those pesky demons. . . .
Note: Unlike DF, this is a little lighter, a little more comedic, a little less verbose. Really, a straight translation from script-to-narrative format. Without further ado, here it is. . .
Insight, Part Two: Act One(B)From where she perched on the ladder, Willow heard the door open behind her, but she kept her eyes glued to the pages of the book she was perusing. “You will
never believe what I found,” Willow said, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Tara took in the sight of the redhead up on the ladder, and inhaled deeply.
You neither. . . . The blonde remained silent as she walked over to Willow, stopping behind her near the table.
“Interdimensional Desires: 12 Tales of Demon Erotica.” Willow shook her head. “Nothing too shocking there, I know. I mean, who doesn’t like a little soft monster porn every now and then, right?”
Tara found herself smiling as Willow babbled. She glanced at the books in her arms, most particularly the spiral notebook, and looked up again to stare at the redhead’s back. Okay. . . I need to know for sure—to really know, for sure. . . . Without a word, Tara set the stack of books down on the table. She held Willow’s notebook in one hand while she pushed the first text up to the redhead, tapping the binding against Willow’s elbow.
Willow never glanced down as she reached out and took the book, all the time keeping her eyes transfixed on the text in her hands. “Here’s where I think it gets a little interesting,” she said as she slid the volume on the shelf. As Willow continued to speak, Tara continued to hand book-after-book up to her. “Tale Six,” Willow said, her hand pausing on the book Tara held up to her, their fingers centimeters apart.
Tara stared at Willow’s fingers— long, thin, delicate, strong— and quick images flashed in her mind, images of those fingers touching her. Touching every part of her. Loving her like no one else ever had. Stop! Just. . . stop. She pushed the book against Willow’s hand, prompting the redhead’s attention back to the present task.
“Tale Six,” she repeated, finally lifting the book from Tara’s grasp, looking at the title and placing it on the shelf. “Roughly translated? ‘Vengeance is mine, sayeth the whore.’ And, um, the ‘whore?’ Her name’s L’Anyan.” Willow shook her head and laughed.
Tara handed up the last book from her stack, and watched as Willow took it from her wordlessly. Tara took a deep breath, closing her eyes in an attempt to steady her escalating heart rate. Okay. . . okay. . . .
“I’d have to translate the story to find out for sure, but do you think. . . ?” Willow tapped her index finger against her upper lip as she contemplated the mere possibility. “No, it couldn’t be. . . could it?”
Tara opened her eyes and glanced at Willow’s notebook in her hand. She swallowed hard and lifted it towards the redhead. I need to know. . . . She tapped Willow’s elbow and waited.
“Mmm,” Willow muttered, reaching unseeingly towards the notebook. “I think it really is. . .” she started, as she grasped the notebook and pulled it before her. Willow’s brow crinkled as her eyes fell on the spiral pages of the notebook filled with her own writing.
Her own private writing.
“Wh— wha. . . .” she stammered, shifting her weight on the ladder rung so she could give some Nosy-Buffy a piece of her mind. Except, when she looked down, it wasn’t some Nosy-Buffy standing below her.
It was. . .
Tara. Willow felt her stomach plummet to the floor as her own heartbeat sailed upwards, and her eyes pinged quickly back-and-forth between her notebook and the woman at her feet.
Tara watched silently, practically reading each expression and emotion traveling over the redhead’s face and body. . . .for sure. “Willow.”
Willow’s eyes settled on Tara’s nervously, blinking several times. One hand clutched tightly to the ladder railing as the other held the notebook close to her chest. Oh, God. . . .
Tara observed her ex’s body language and quickly decided she should try to say something to calm her. . . to appease her, to— Say something. . . you wanted to know. “Willow,” she began again, and pointed briefly to the book held captive by the redhead’s arm. “I— I didn’t mean t-to read— I mean I never would’ve— I never would. . . .” Her voice trailed off in a morass of incoherent babble. She watched as, if at all possible, Willow held tighter to the notebook. Tara tried again. “It’s j-just that, with Dawn’s homework, I-I offered to help—”
“Buffy,” Willow supplied in a quiet, stern whisper, finally finding her voice. Goddamn it! The redhead felt her body begin to shake, a combination of anger and hurt and fear pulsating throughout in massive swells.
“Yes,” Tara replied. Tara stepped back from the ladder, her backside pressing up against the table. “A-are you okay, Willow?”
“Okay?” she asked, her tone a tad on the sarcastic side.
Oh, no. . . I know that tone. . . she’s not—
“Okay?” Willow asked again. “Am I okay that Buffy read my diary?” Willow half-laughed, a forced sound of hurt and anger escaping her lips. “Granted, it’s not your standard, lock-and-key, cute puppies on the cover type of diary, but it is a diary nonetheless. It’s private nonetheless.” Tara swallowed hard as Willow looked directly at her. “Or did you mean, am I okay that you read it?”
Tara opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She blinked several times, trying to force air over her vocal cords. “Yes,” she managed, not exactly sure which question she was answering. Not exactly sure which one she wanted an answer to.
“No,” Willow said.
Tara nodded slowly, pained by the anger and hurt and betrayal she was seeing on Willow’s face. She pressed a hand on the tabletop to steady her suddenly shaky legs and began a slow backpedal towards the door. “I-I am s-sorry, Willow. . . I really am.” And I know for sure. . . it’s over. She reached the corner of the table and turned away from the redhead, tears filling her eyes as she moved to leave. It’s really over. . . .
What are you doing, Rosenberg? Stop her! Don’t let her go! Not again! Here’s your last chance. “I didn’t want you to read it,” Willow said suddenly, loudly, the urgency in her voice stopping Tara. The redhead carefully dropped down one rung on the ladder. “Tara.”
Tara lifted her head and quickly wiped the fallen tears from her cheeks. She turned and faced Willow, ready to take whatever it was the redhead needed to say to her. I deserve it. . . .
“I didn’t want you to read it,” Willow repeated, taking another step down on the ladder, stopping one above the ground.
“I-I know. . . I’m s-sorry Wil—”
“No,” Willow interrupted, holding a hand up to silence her. “I didn’t want you to read it. . . like that.” Seeing the brow of the blonde’s forehead crinkle in confusion, Willow drove onwards. “I wanted to be the one to. . . to show it to you.” Willow licked her lips nervously. Here you are. . . here she is. . . say it now. . . find out now. . . for sure.
Tara’s brow relaxed as her face fell open to the woman across from her. Wha—
“If you ever saw it,” Willow said, closing her eyes momentarily as she took a breath, “I wanted it be me. I wanted it to be something we could share. . . together."
Silence filled the small room as the women stared at one another. Long seconds ticked by, but neither one moved.
And then, as if something had suddenly crystallized, Tara edged a step towards the table. “Together?” Tara swallowed visibly. “You and me?”
“You and me,” Willow concurred, “together.”
She said together. . . us together. . . . “Oh,” Tara said, then mentally chastised herself for sounding like an idiot.
“Oh,” Willow echoed, inwardly cringing. What are you doing?
Another round of silence flooded the room. Again, no movement was made.
And then, “STL?” Tara asked, her voice breaking the quiet.
Willow’s eyes dropped to the notebook still held tightly by one arm; she tilted it away from her body and let her eyes quickly roam over the open page. 117 days STL. . . I remember. . . . The redhead raised her eyes to find Tara watching her, the blonde’s head tilted slightly to the side. You wanted to share it with her, so do it. . . share. “Since you left.”
The words hit Tara like a sledgehammer and she felt tears sting her eyes again. Since I left? Oh, Willow. . . . “I-I’m sorry,” Tara said, her voice catching in her throat.
Willow shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry— I don’t want you to be. It was never your fault, Tara.” She paused. “None of it.”
Tara accepted Willow’s words, wiping a renegade tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. . . that you hurt so much,” she said, her eyes glancing towards the notebook then back to Willow. “So much for so long.” Like me. . . for so long.
Willow nodded, feeling tears well in her own eyes. “You, too.”
Tara swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in her throat. 117 days. How is 117 days possible. . . ? Wait, no, not 117 days. . . it’s. . . . “118 days,” she said.
“What?” Willow asked, not really needing to have it repeated.
“It’s 118 days today.”
Quietly, Willow whispered, “I know.”
Tara took another step towards the table, moving around the corner’s edge. “Did— did you write something today?”
Willow shifted on the ladder, releasing the rail so she could rub her fingers over her forehead several times. Oh, God. . . .
“Do you want to— I mean, would you share it with me?”
Willow dropped her hand to the rail again and held tight. Oh, God. . . .
“Please?”
Willow took a deep breath. She wanted to share this with Tara. She had told the blonde as much. But to actually be faced with it now caused tiny butterflies to take flight in her stomach. Oh, God. . . .
“Please.”
Willow looked into the soulful eyes of the woman before her then dropped her chin towards her chest; she released the railing again and nervously tucked some loose hair behind her ear.
Don’t push. . . it’s too soon. . . she’s not ready. “It’s okay, Willow, you don’t have—” Tara’s voice broke off as she watched the redhead lean slightly forward and reach her free hand into the back pocket of her jeans. Then, Willow was holding out a folded piece of paper to her; the redhead’s hand shook as she offered it to Tara. Without a word, Tara walked to the ladder and stopped in front of Willow; she grasped the paper and looked deeply into Willow’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
No. . . I don’t know. . . yes. . . . Willow nodded imperceptibly and released her grip on the page.
Tara took a step away and brought the paper down before her eyes. Carefully, she began to open it, the sound of the crinkled material breaking the thundering silence which had suddenly taken up residence in the room. Once open, Tara’s eyes fell on Willow’s bold cursive writing. Seeing it, a smile touched the corners of the blonde’s mouth. She rewrites them. . . like her school notes. . . she rewrites them neatly. . . oh, Willow. . . . She took a breath and began to read.
‘118 Days STL
All you have to do to have love that’s true
Is tell me that you care
You need a hand to hold
Need to come in from the cold
My love is waiting there
I’ll be standing right here by your side
For you don’t see the love I carry deep inside
If you need to come to me
My arms are always open
If you only knew
I’ve been waiting all my life for you
When you’re sad I’m feeling blue
When you’re not here I don’t know what to do
I see you here and there
But you have a broken heart
Turn around and see
My love is strong enough to see us through
And I’m holding it in my heart
My darling just for you
Cause I know one day you’ll say
I need your loving
I need you
I know, I know
I can bring you joy
Help you through the night
Just reach out for me
I know I have to wait
Until you find your way
And pray that you will come to me someday
If you only knew
I love you
I don’t know. After last night, I don’t know anything anymore, except that I love you. Still. Always. And I’m sorry. I wish you could be near me and not hurt. I wish you could touch me and not pull away. I wish I could touch you. I wish— I wish so many things, Tara(but you don’t know that cause I can’t say it— who knows what Anya would do).’
Through her tears, Tara smiled. She noticed then that her own hands were shaking as she held the note. Shaking with emotions too long held back. She sniffed loudly and looked at Willow; Willow’s gaze was lowered, her chin buried deeply in her chest, her body closed in on itself. Oh, Willow, please don’t. . . . “Willow,” Tara said, her voice tremulous with tears of joy and hope and. . . fear. Willow moved as if to look at her, but couldn’t quite raise her eyes. “Willow,” Tara repeated, stepping close to the foot of the ladder, directly beneath Willow; she pressed the page against her heart and held it there with both hands. At last, Willow raised her eyes to Tara’s. I care.
Willow’s breath caught in her throat and she held it there, waiting. Tara.
Tara moved one hand from her chest to the ladder railing. I need your loving.
Willow swallowed and felt tears well up in her eyes. Is this really happening?
Tara lifted a foot and set it on the lowest rung, next to Willow’s. Still grasping the paper, she reached out for the other railing. She pulled herself up, letting her other foot land between Willow’s. I need you.
Willow felt paralyzed. Tara was suddenly there, completely there, her legs pressing against hers, her breath caressing her face, her— Tara filling her senses. Willow stared into the blue depths only inches from her, feeling her heart pound furiously in her chest. This is really happening.
I love you. Tara’s heart thundered, blood rushed in her ears. How long had she waited for a sign? How long had she wanted this? Wanted Willow. Forever She began her descent, slow and dreamy, leaning towards Willow, grateful at last, to be claiming what she had missed and wanted and needed for so, so long. She could feel Willow’s breath fan over her own lips as they neared their goal, and closing her eyes, she moved to eliminate the final distance between them.
“Stop,” Willow whispered, putting a hand up between them, their lips a hair’s breath apart. Tara opened her eyes questioningly. “Wait.”
Tara pulled back just enough to look into Willow’s eyes, surprised to find unshed tears glistening in their emerald depths. “Willow?”
“Just. . . wait.” Willow swallowed hard. “Th— this isn’t just. . . .”
“Isn’t just?”
“Just about what I wrote?”
Tara frowned and shook her head, confused. “What you wrote?”
Willow tried to clear her throat. “Cause if it is, I’d understand. I know— I do, I really do— how I would feel if I read something you wrote about me and— and it was all of your feelings and— and I would want to just be with you and touch you and— and, Tara,” Willow paused, taking a quick breath as she gathered her words together. She shook her head, “I can’t. I can’t, if that’s what this is, if it’s just you reading what I wrote, and you feeling all of that, just that. I— I can’t. It has to be about you and me— us. Because you want an us. If it isn’t, then I just can’t.” She stared deeply into Tara’s eyes. “I couldn’t take it, Tara, having you that close and us not being. . . .” A single tear slid down her cheek. “My heart won’t make it.”
Tara swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart breaking. Oh, Willow, no. . . . “No,” Tara said, her voice barely above a whisper. “No, Willow, no, please. It’s not just about that. Not that it’s not beautiful, because everything you wrote— it is.” Tara reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from Willow’s eyes. “It is beautiful.” Then she touched Willow’s notebook lightly. “But it’s not why I’m here. I want an us. . . again. I do, Willow, more than anything else I want that.”
Oh. . . . “Oh.”
A smile touched the corners of Tara’s lips. All babble or no babble— no in between for my Willow. “Oh.” The two women stared at one another for several seconds, nothing but the pounding of their hearts sounding around them. “A-are you done here?” Willow blinked several times. “With the books,” Tara clarified.
“Oh. Yeah. Done.” D-O-R-K.
“Do you want to go somewhere? Talk first?”
Talk? Talk? “Talk. Talk is good,” Willow said, trying to convince herself as much as Tara. “Cause, you know, with the whole communication thing, and the need to communicate with people, and talk is one way we communic—”
Tara’s hand on her cheek stopped Willow instantly. “I said, ‘talk first.’”
Gulp! Willow nodded. “Talk first.” She nodded again, and then suddenly shook her head. “No! No, it’s movie night tonight.”
Tara smiled and dropped her hand to the railing once more. She moved away from Willow and stepped down from the ladder. “We can go to my room.” She raised her eyebrows slightly, waiting. “Okay?”
Willow smiled as she stepped down to the floor in front of Tara, her notebook still secured to her body. “Yes.” Oh, God, yes. More than.
***
“What are they saying?” Anya asked, leaning closer to the door.
Dawn shouldered the Vengeance Demon in the stomach. “Get off me. God!”
“Shh!” Buffy hissed, her ear pressed against the wood of the storeroom door. “Slayer hearing only works when I can actually hear!”
“Yeah,” Xander echoed.
“Shut up, Harris,” Anya said, giving the carpenter a venomous glare.
“You shut up!”
“Both of you shut up!” Buffy whispered harshly.
Click!
“Oh, shit!” Buffy exclaimed, pulling her hands and ear away from the door.
Four pairs of eyes opened wide at the sound of the doorknob starting to turn. And then, four pairs of feet were moving in the same direction simultaneously, bodies crashing into one another as they all tried— in a Three Stooges sort of way— to make a clean getaway.
“They’re coming!” Dawn whispered loudly.
“Move! Move!” Anya muttered, giving Xander a good shove out of the way before she bolted for the counter.
“Shit!” Xander stumbled backwards, catching himself just before he crashed into his handiwork. He turned and plopped down on a chair, quickly grabbing his tape measure and pulling his goggles back over his eyes.
Buffy and Dawn scrambled to the nearest table and slid onto the benches, each grabbing a book and pretending to read.
The door opened and Tara entered the room, followed closely by Willow. They walked to the center of the room and glanced at their friends. . . their friends who were all very, very interested in whatever it was they were doing. Anya: head down at the counter; Xander: head down over his work tools. And Buffy and Dawn: heads down reading.
Nothing strange about that. Nope, nothing suspicious at all. Willow shook her head at her friends’ total eavesdropping incompetence. Ladies and gentlemen, our stealthy-monster fighters, live and in-person. The redhead stepped around Tara, noticing a similar expression of, ‘yeah, guys, real smooth’ covering the blonde’s face. “Hey,” she said as she stopped beside Buffy.
“Hey,” Dawn said, keeping her eyes down on her book.
“Hey, Will,” Buffy said, also keeping her eyes plastered to her book.
Uh-huh. “Tara and I— we’re gonna go, um, talk.”
“Oh, okay,” Buffy replied, sounding totally uninterested. As if to punctuate how much she was not concerned, the Slayer waved her hand in a slightly dismissive gesture. “See ya later.”
Willow grinned. You got that right.
Tara grinned. You can count on it.
“Tara?” Willow looked at the blonde. Tara nodded her readiness. “Okay.” Smiling once more, Willow leaned over Buffy’s shoulder and reached out, gently spinning the book around right-side-up before the Slayer's eyes.
Willow could practically hear the gulp as Buffy timidly raised her eyes to her two friends; they pinged between the women quickly as she watched them both— at the exact same moment, without the other’s knowledge— mouth silently to her, “We’ll talk.” Buffy tried to smile her very best, ‘what did I do?’ smile. And then, much to her surprise, she watched as they both mouthed two simple words to her: “Thank you.”
And with that, Willow and Tara turned to go.
Four pairs of eyes watched the two women head up the stairs and open the door.
Four friends smiled ear-to-ear as the two women reached out simultaneously to take each other’s hand.
Three pairs of eyes suddenly watched Buffy, who was on her feet, moving her arms back-and-forth and side-to-side, shaking her butt in time.
Dawn looked at her sister worriedly. “Are you having a seizure?”
Buffy paused her ‘Dance of Triumph,’ a snappy retort on the tip of her tongue. Instead of blasting the teen, however, the Slayer simply smiled and started up again, cheering loud enough so all could hear: “Go Buffy! Go Buffy! Go Buffy!”
TBC
Kris
"Frell that!"
by 4WiccanLuv » Sat Oct 19, 2002 12:31 pm 
tsk tsk!! 
Shame on you, for trying to upset my baby!! COM-pletely Nekkid Linda is for her ONLY!!!! You get, skirt wearin' Linda!!! 
Hey!! How'd I lose my skirt??? 
C...those "octopussy" hands of yours, move at the speed of light!! B...you're a lucky gal!!! 
don't worry, after the exhaustion due to heavy exertion weares off you'll remember 
and you promised 
And nice try, but 
Madrine a visit and make her an offer she can't refuse!!! 
everybody seems to want my octopussy hands 
(maybe you should send that roomie away, they have a lot to show you 
)
that's good baby. let's get started, shall we?
) 
at: 11/3/02 11:22:01 am
