masterjendu:
Hello, you! Tara’s the selfless sort, isn’t she? SHe does wonders, goes to new depths(see: Phoenix, Tara_the
The Lamb), and never ceases to amaze. I’m so glad she’s ours.
The time overlap is something to think about, isn’t it? I’m working on something that will flush that out a bit. Thanks for delurking to tell me what’s workin’ for you, it really means so much to hear what pulls and hurts and makes reading a worthy experience. So thank you, for making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
db:
Hahaha, really? Go Smith. I meant to send you a PM, but haven’t had the chance. So expect questions galore from me for you ‘bout that.
Well, glad to see you! And thanks for reading, I’m glad you’re enjoying, albeit painfully, my little tale. Hope next time to come, your heart will have eased a bit :-P
katjetson:
Aah, the Scoobyage. It’s like a sip of cough syrup, really soothes(if only for a second or two) the angst, don’t it? Oh yeah, Will’s barely hanging on. She’s there, but by a thread. Let’s sew her back up, shall we? How were the Raves? Brilliant, I hope. Cold and flu is spreading like....well, the cold and flu. Feel better.
wimpy:
You constantly flatter me, I feel
almost worthy of it :-P But really, thanks.
I’m a fan of the Scooby banter. Hahaha ‘when it was good’, that made me laugh. Joss really F-ed that one up, didn’t he? * siiiigh *
There’s a reason for everything, I promise. You’ll see everything pan out, including the White. But hot damn, W/T have one powerful bond, don’t they? Enough to still have yuppies like us writing about it!
taraslove:
Pirate away! You’d think National Talk Like A Pirate Day and National Eyepatch Day would be on the same day….but no. Plus, it seems fitting that the author of a swashbuckling adventure tale should give a good “Aaargh” once in a while. That damn stutter is so freaking adorable! I have a small moment of Willow-babble when something cute-as-anything comes out, but when it happens in a heartbreaking moment like that, it really crushes, doesn’t it? I vow to have many cute-as-anything stutter moments in the future, k?
Zampsa:
Thank you, friend! Tara realizing she was the one that does is a big step forward, so things can only get better from there. Hurdle 1 overcome! Woo-hoo!
jay/wt4evr:
Oooh, I love that bouncing finger happy face icon. It makes me want to dance! Whee! Thanks, jay!
LittleBit:
Aah, thank you thank you. I’m glad to be the deliverer of strong feelings. I’m just sad that it’s of such pain and angst filled ones
dlline:
Hello again! Sorry I haven’t gotten back to your PM yet. Life is….kinda hectic like, always. But soon I’ll sit down and do it. Thanks so much for reading, enjoy the smallish bit.
satinpaper:
Your avatars never fail to amuse me. Last time it was pretty, now it makes me ponder and smile. Sunny side up eggs and tiny people? What’s not to like?
Mmm ‘abyss of sound’, that’s a good phrase! I think it’s so interesting what other people point out things that I myself have missed. That contrast between what Tara has and what Willow so desperately wants. Huh. Thanks for that, made me think.
Sorry if my flashback thingy wasn’t the clearest thing. Basically, what happened was that Tara, seeing blood, thought Willow was shot. She doesn’t know why she’s in her Sunnydale-limbo, but the entire time she’s thought Willow died, not her. Creepy, in’t it? Anyways, hope that clears it up a bit! Thanks so much, and enjoy the update.
EmsinNz:
Hello, and welcome! I’m glad my writing appeals to you, but gosh! I hope you didn’t choke too badly! Stunning? * blushes * Thank you, I hope to live up to that very kind statement. ! Also ‘saturated with grief’, gosh that really sums everything up, doesn’t it? How beautiful, you should give writing a shot! I have a feeling you have quite a way with words. Thanks again, it means so much that you’re really feeling this story, I hope you like the update.
Title: Lotus
Author: Zooeys_Bridge(Rachel)
Email: rsietz@email.smith.edu
Rating: PG(for now)
Disclaimer: Joss and ME own their characters. I’m just adding a little bit of spice. And not making a profit.
Spoilers: This is heavily steeped in canon, so be wary of all of it.
Feedback: Yes, please! This is my first story, so please feel free to scribble away with red pen. It’s highly encouraged.
Note: Because she liked it so much, this one's for Kat.
[center].::
Lotus::.[/center]
Willow felt her then.
Right……there.
A deep pang of Tara that sliced her open and made her gasp with hurt. The pain was suddenly everywhere. She felt it echo and pound around her, dragging her down into the deep. Willow cried out, felt her knees buckle, and the world spin.
In a flash, Giles dipped to catch Willow where she fell, and kneeled in the grass, holding her strongly. The ground was damp from the rain the day before, and tiny water bubbles surfaced as his boots squished into the grass. He had missed the subtle nuances of the earth while in Sunnydale. The pristine California sunshine had spoiled him, but here he remembered how to relish the wet mornings and early fog. They rooted him, deep and ancient, into the countryside. He felt more connected than he had in a long time. In the end, maybe that was why he had brought Willow here. Perhaps here she could feel the rustic strength and wisdom that infused the weary and the lost. Including him.
Laden with Willow’s dead weight, Giles counted the moments until she regained consciousness. He never got used to them, but eventually grew accustomed to the bouts of heartache and agony that overwhelmed Willow and forced her to the ground. He knew the blackouts were connected with her lessons. The new magicks introduced into her black-scarred system were bound to have their bumps and bruises along the way. She needed to re-learn how to use the light she was given.
He sighed.
I was so blind. So foolishly blind.
He knew the dirty residuals that rehabilitation created, clinging like sand to clammy flesh. It had haunted him in dark corners when Slaying business had retired for the evening and he was left alone in his house with naught but a smooth glass of scotch for company. How little he had touched magic since the days of Ripper. He let the power shrivel inside, too afraid to wrestle with his own potential. For good or bad, he didn’t care to find out.
The dank guilt of his deeds tumbled inside of him for decades, sequestered, but never forgotten. It nagged on his conscious and pulled often, like a gentle tug.
Don’t forget me, it said.
He never forgot.
He did, however, hoard his flaws, like nuts for the winter, keeping them safe and secret. And because he was narrow in his ways and determined not to let the past repeat itself, he inadvertently let the future happen. He ignored the warning signs and led his daughter astray. His fears and shortcomings had led to her downfall, and he would not be so quick as to let it happen ever again.
And so he held her protectively, and waited for her to return.
As the third minute slowly ticked by, Giles felt Willow stir.
Gently, he thought.
He watched her eyelids tremble and flutter. Her green eyes, dull like frosted sea glass, quivered open and she looked up at the pale sky. A moment passed as she stared blankly, her gaze passing over the faraway clouds. Willow’s face strained as she pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and exhaled through her nose.
Giles was uncomfortable, and felt like he was intruding on a desperately private moment. He quietly cleared his throat, and soft as a lamb’s breath asked, “Are you alright?”
Eyes still closed, Willow nodded and pressed her head into Giles’ sleeve. “Can you just….hold me for a moment? Please?”
“I’d love nothing more.” With that, he kissed the top of her head, and gazed at the spongy green hills across the valley, crowned with clusters of trees, as the sun made it’s way, tumbling through the sky.
His eyes were filled with green and his hand with red as Giles absentmindedly stroked Willow’s hair. Thoughts of his recent phone call circled lazily in his mind, lingering like day-old baked goods at the grocery store.
Buffy’s voice had warmed him instantly. The brittle ice surrounding his spirit melted with the spring of her bright greeting. His eyes had crinkled at the corners like tissue paper when he smiled. He had forgotten, just for a moment, that there was more to the world than pain and grief.
Trust Buffy to remind me.
It was more that just a phone call, really. Buffy had sounded much more collected than she had in quite some time. There wasn’t a secret weariness or reluctant acceptness that tinged her every move. Buffy seemed…ready. And Giles was proud of her. She had done it all on her own, and he knew at what cost.
The call started innocently enough, with light banter sprinkled in like cinnamon, but soon he could hear the nervous curiosity that tinged her voice. It was a full twelve minutes before he even broached the topic of Willow.
“Giles, are you sure? I though this was supposed to be a six month shindig. Now you’re telling me she’s ready all of a sudden?”
“Buffy, this not about it being sudden. She doesn’t have a choice in the matter, it’s time.”
“Time for what, the Copacabana? This isn’t some sort of Coven initiation test, is it? See if she goes all Dark-Eyed-Magic-Mamma again at ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign? ‘Cause I don’t much like the sound of that.”
Giles’ loud sigh could be heard muffled into the receiver. “Some matters have merely been taken into account, and we’ve come to the realization that it’s time for Willow to go back. No tests, no dark magic, no experiments.”
There was a pause.
“’We’ve come’? Giles, does Will even know she’s coming back yet?”
A lack of motion made Giles realize his hand had stilled, and was now resting heavily atop Willow’s head. He looked down to see that she had cradled her fist beneath her chin and was clutching her other arm close to her chest. Her eyes still stared blankly into the hills beyond.
I can put this off longer, it’s time. Lord help me.
Ever so gently, Giles took his hand and nudged Willow’s chin, tilting her head so she looked up at him. He stared deep into her eyes, leaden and weary, and felt the weight of a world on his shoulders.
Forgive me, Willow. I know you didn’t want any of this. Least of all to go back.
He took a deep breath to steel himself, felt the saturated air permeate every pore in his lungs with a primordial strength, then met her gaze. “Willow,” he began. “We must talk.”