It's been about 2 years, yeah? Time for that update!
Author: Foomatic
Title: She's Got A Way
Summary: Um.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the shirt off my back
Feedback: Is always welcomed and appreciated!
Hmmm . . . a story with musical interludes that help convey the emotions and turmoil of the main characters through popular music . . . yep, I'm totally suing 'Glee' for stealing my idea. LOL.
Thanks to Rach, for the extra set of eyes. If you see any typos or grammatical errors, it's all her fault. SHE’S GOT A WAY
Part IX: Hiding My Heart There were very few things Willow Rosenberg didn’t understand. PC users, for one.
Everyone knows Macs are far superior, why bother with anything else? Trump’s comb over, for two.
Really Donald? Really? Of course, these things were inconsequential truths that didn’t need to be understood. Tara, however, was another matter entirely.
The sting from their last conversation had subsided very little in the past few days. It was a miracle she managed to get anything done. The studious part of Willow’s brain was on auto-pilot: term papers were written, chapters were read, notes were rewritten neatly with different colored pens - all of which were processing in the background as Willow replayed that night in Tara’s room, trying to understand.
She shivered from a gust of cold night air, and closed the window before returning to her bed. Remnants of the tinkerbell spell lingered, a slight tingling sensation that Willow had always enjoyed whenever she cast, but now, alone in her dorm, it only reminded her of Tara.
I’m not who you think I am . . . “Then who do I think you are?” Willow whispered to the empty room. She opened her mental notebook, and jotted down the obvious.
A student. A witch. Someone who likes girls. Someone I can’t stop thinking about. Someone who I feel I can tell anything and everything. That last sentence triggered something in her brain. Whatever it was that was bothering Tara that night, she felt she couldn’t tell Willow.
She doesn’t trust me? Willow had been an open book, always willing to share secrets and little tidbits of her life. There was nothing Tara could ask her that she wouldn’t answer. Judging from that night, the feeling wasn’t mutual. And Willow had just stood there, saying nothing, before walking out in defeat.
Stupid. I should have said something. Anything. She chewed her lip, deep in thought, before donning her resolve face. Willow took a cleansing breath and relaxed her body.
Tara watched the tinkerbell light with a strange mixture of sadness and delight. It was a small comfort to know that Willow still thought of her, despite the disaster that was a few nights ago. In the days that followed, she had repeatedly questioned her actions. Had she done the right thing? Her head would give a resounding ‘yes’, but it did little to dampen the aching ‘no’ in her heart.
[Cue music:
Hiding My Heart by Brandi Carlile]
The tinkerbell light slowly faded, and Tara was once again alone in her room. The emptiness was stifling: no shy giggles, no scent of magic in the air. Tara filled the silence with a heavy sigh, and closed her eyes.
TARA: So this is how the story went
I met someone by accident
That blew me away
That blew me away
It was in the darkest of my days
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain
And buried them away, you buried them away
I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
You'll disappear one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
(Tara rolls off her bed, and gathers her shower kit and bathrobe before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. She slowly walks down the hall, dodging the many residents of her dorm as they enter and exit their rooms, happy expressions contrasting the sadness on her face.)You dropped me off at the train station
Put a kiss on top of my head
You watched me wave
Watched me wave
Then you went on home to your skyscrapers
Neon lights and waiting papers
That you call home
You call it home
(She opens the women's bathroom and finds it empty)I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
You'll disappear one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
(Tara disrobes, and organizes her things before finally stepping into the shower. She leans into the steady stream of water, resting her forehead on the blue tile of the shower.)I woke up feeling heavy hearted
I'm going back to where I started
The morning rain
The morning rain
And although I wish that you were near
That same old road that brought me here
Is calling me home
Is calling me home
I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
You'll disappear one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
And I could spend my whole life hiding my heart away
Her muscles loosened under the soft cascade of running water, and Tara welcomed her body’s relaxation. Determined to wash away her loneliness, she grabbed her bottle of shampoo and savored its jasmine sent before squeezing a small amount into her palm.
Tara? The sound of her name startled her so much she dropped her bottle of shampoo. Wide-eyed, she peeled back the shower curtain and peered into the bathroom.
“Hello?” she called tentatively. The only response was the sound of her voice echoing through the empty stalls.
Tara? said the voice again. This time it distinctly came from . . .
Inside my head? She tensed.
Tara, it’s Willow. I-I’m sorry to . . . Willow?! Tara’s eyes shot up.
H-hi, was the nervous reply.
I hope . . . I hope I didn’t scare you or anything. The sound of Willow’s voice filled her with warm fuzzies, but the moment was fleeting. She knew, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t avoid Willow Rosenberg forever.
You s-startled me a bit, but that’s okay. I don’t think there’s a real subtle way to start a mental conversation with someone. I’m sorry, Tara. I just . . . I tried calling, you know and . . . I’ve developed a fairly intimate relationship with your answering machine, seeing that in the last few days I’ve spent more time talking to it than to you. Which is understandable, because you wanted space . . . but this is Sunnydale remember? I wanted to make sure you weren't getting your vamp on in a dark alley somewhere. Tara surpressed a small smile. She had a point.
I’m okay, Willow. No unexplained neck injuries, no aversion to sunlight. And still a stout vegetarian, she joked half-heartedly. She paused before adding softly,
I’m sorry I made you worry.The blonde immediately felt guilty at having given Willow the cold shoulder. She wondered if keeping her distance had been worth it; she wasn't any less miserable than she was before. In fact, she felt much, much worse. Willow's voice was a reminder of what she had given up, and the pain of it stung her like salt on an open wound.
I miss you. The redhead's words were faint but earnest, and Tara felt a tiny flicker of hope in her chest.
Is it okay to say that? Willow asked gently.
Tara turned off the water and once again placed her head on the cool tile, letting the steam gather around her as she collected herself.
It never gets easy, does it?
What?
Life, Tara sighed. She absentmindedly dragged a finger down the worn grout lines of the shower, feeling its rough texture rub against her skin.
You think you got it all figured out, only to find you really didn't have a clue to begin with. Running away had always been her solution. First from Donna, then her family. All that running had kept her safe. All that running had led to Willow, and now she was running from her too. When was it going to end?
When I was in third grade, I was a walking spitball target. My mom never understood why I always came home with bits of paper in my hair. Tara crinkled her eyebrows.
What?I remember my clothes getting stolen from my gym locker while I was in the shower once. If that wasn't damaging enough, imagine your underwear decorating the school mascot, Willow chuckled sadly.
I was ridiculed every which way and then some for as long as I could remember. But you know what made it okay though? Xander. When it got too much, when I started to believe that I deserved the way people treated me, Xander always pulled me back. "They're the poopieheads," he'd say. "They're the ones with the problems and the issues. Not you. If they can't see how special you are, then they aren't worth your time." The redhead paused. Tara wondered where this was all going.
Xander always accepted me for who I was. All I needed was a really good friend to realize that I was worth something, and that it didn't matter what other people thought of me. And you know, for a long time it was just Xander, but then Buffy came along and Giles, and heck, even Cordelia came around.Tara listened, and reflected on her own past. First there was Donna, who had ultimately shunned her, and her mother, who she lost just weeks later. Not a great track record. But there was Willow, and even with the good that came from their relationship, she had pushed her away.
Guess you and I are more alike than I thought, Tara offered.
Except I didn't have the benefit of having a Xander back in the day.You could have a Willow, if you wanted, was the soft reply. Tara bit her lip and for once did not fight the glimmer of hope rising in her chest.
I care about you, Tara. A lot even. I get that you're going through something right now and you can't tell me. I won't ask, I won't pry . . . but whatever it is . . . I want to be here for you, okay? When you're . . . ready.The sincerity in Willow's voice flooded Tara's senses, and she let the feeling wash over her.
I know that our relationship is changing, Willow continued slowly.
I can feel it, I can feel you - in everything. And it scares me. Tara held her breath.
I'm excited, confused, and maybe a little freaked out, but . . . the red head paused.
Tara stood absolutely still, hanging on Willow's every word, until the silence was unbearable.
But? The blonde's voice was barely a whisper.
The only time it all makes sense is when I'm with you. Whatever uncertainty I have, or anxiety . . . when you walk through that door, you . . . it goes away, and everything feels right. Tara stood silent in the shower stall feeling Willow's last words reverberate through her body like the vibrato of a finely tuned violin. Images flashed through her mind: green eyes, inviting lips, warm embraces . . .
And you haven't walked through that door in a long, long time.Could she do it? Could she open that door and embrace the endless possibilities of Willow Rosenberg?
I think about Oz, how he left and I didn't do anything to stop him, Willow continued.
I just stood there and let him walk away from me. I don't want that to happen with you. You want space, but . . . I couldn't let you go without . . . without you knowing."Oz." Tara's voice once again filled the empty bathroom. Something had clicked in her brain. "Oz . . ." she whispered to herself, "was a werewolf." A
demon. And Willow had loved him just the same. She had accepted him for who he was, and loved him just the same. The revelation stunned her.
Willow?
Yeah?
I'm scared too.
We can be scared together then? You know, in some dimensions two scared people make one really brave one.Tara laughed out loud, and felt the tension escape her body.
So if you still want space, I understand. I . . . I just wanted you to have the full story.
No, no . . . I think you pretty much clarified things for me. Tara's lips curled up in a smile. "Oz was a werewolf," she whispered again.
Really? Willow paused.
Cause I'm kinda, sorta . . . standing outside your dorm room.