********
TITLE: College Confidential
WRITER: Laragh
CHAPTER RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Willow, Tara and any other characters from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise belong to Joss Whedon, FOX, ME and a whole host of other entities, none of which are me.
SUMMARY: The first part of the prequel to
Hacker Confidential and
Family Confidential - the college years!
SPOILERS: Perhaps minor references to the show or stealage of dialogue, but nothing that would spoil the series.
FEEDBACK: Yes please
NOTE: Double chapter, because how could I leave it there?
Chapter 82 ********
Tara waved to Toby and Eden as she passed them coming up from the laundry room.
It was the third load she’d done that week, but since having time freed up from not being in the big sister program, it helped her to feel like she was doing something useful.
She’d had to pull herself together that first afternoon to go to work and it hadn’t really been talked about since. Willow was trying not to upset Tara by reminding her but Tara was even more upset at the perceived disinterest.
She was feeling too disjointed about everything to talk, but folding laundry was easy and neat and let her forget for a while.
They had also planned a trip to the multicultural fair happening that day on campus. Tara was looking forward to seeing some different styles of jewellery and ornaments, to watch some unusual entertainment and maybe share some exotic fare with Willow.
Despite some inner turmoil and unresolved feelings that she felt too down to voice, it always brought her joy to share a meal with her love.
She opened the door with one hand, then backed in so she could hold the laundry hamper and headed over to put away everything in the closet and dresser.
“Hi hun.”
Willow smiled from where she was sitting on the bed, tying her laces.
“Good, you’re here. I want to head to the fair,” she said, then noticed the hamper, “Laundry again?”
Tara shrugged one shoulder.
“I have more time.”
Willow stretched her arms over her head, happily.
“Well, so do I now too, finally. I’m so glad I never have to make another double cream, single sugar for those fuddy duddies again!”
Tara hiked the hamper onto her knee.
“Sometimes I’d kill just to have to make a coffee. I had to deal with all sorts of stuff my internships, screaming babies and distraught parents but even though the work is easier, it’s somehow harder with my actual job… college kids are so difficult. It’s like a whole different ball game when it’s a job you need to live and not just experience. I mean, you can't really know what it's like to–”
“Yeah, I know that,” Willow cut her off, demeanour changed as she stared at her shoes.
Tara paused and looked over, frowned, then put the hamper down and sat on the bed too.
“I-I didn't mean to-”
Willow waved a hand in front of her.
“No, I just… I… I know I can't know what a real job is, I was just a summer intern. But I just…” she shrugged and tried to brush it under the rug with a fake laugh, “It's no big.”
Tara frowned again.
“I made you mad.”
Willow shook her head.
“No. No.”
Tara tried to reach across to take Willow's hand.
“All I meant was–”
Willow started to stand.
“No, it's okay. This whole job thing, let's just forget it.”
“No, please,” Tara replied, eyes already apologetic, “I mean, I mean, tell me if I said something wrong, otherwise I know I'll say it again. Probably often and in public.”
Willow sank back down to the bed.
“No, I was snippy gal. It's just… I know I can't… on some level…” she started, gesturing with her hands to try and explain what she felt, “It's like my opinion isn't worth anything because I haven't had a ‘real’ job, so I don't know.”
Tara’s brow creased.
“Well… I-I'm not the expert. I mean, I've only had the one. And it’s mostly just summer too. Sometimes winter break. I just meant it’s different from interning.”
Willow nodded and gave a weak smile. Tara opened and closed her mouth anxiously.
“Do… I act like…the big knowledge woman?” she asked uncertainly.
There was only a foot between them but it felt like a lot more.
“No,” Willow replied feebly, unable to meet her eye.
Tara raised an eyebrow.
“Is that no spelled Y-E-S?”
Willow’s eyes roamed for a moment before landing on Tara.
“S-O-R-T of,” she answered, “I mean, I just feel like the-the junior partner. You've been doing everything longer than me. You've been working longer…you've been volunteering longer…you even do more classes than me.”
“You’re way beyond me there!” Tara replied, gesticulating in Willow’s direction, “Your professors love you, you’re the top of every class, every project. I mean, it frightens me how good you are sometimes.”
Willow’s head reeled back.
“That's a weird word.”
“‘Professors’”? Tara asked, unable to control a nervous curl to her lips.
“It frightens you?” Willow asked, confused and hurt, “
I frighten you?”
Tara jumped up from the bed.
“That is
so not what I meant. It’s good, it’s good people think you’re impressive.”
“Well, psych major here,” Willow retorted defensively, “I know what a Freudian slip is.”
Tara looked upset and Willow was quickly matching the look on her face.
“D-don't you trust me?”
“With my life,” Tara answered emphatically.
Willow scooted even further away.
“That's not what I mean.”
Tara looked towards the door.
“Can't we just go to the fair?”
“I don't feel real multicultural right now,” Willow replied as she stood up, then looked again to Tara, “Wh…what is it about me that you don't trust? “
Tara stalled, trying to find the words.
“It's not that,” she said, taking a step forward, “I…I worry, sometimes. You're, you're doing so much, so fast. I don't know where you're heading.”
“Where I'm heading?” Willow asked, utterly confused.
“I'm saying everything wrong,” Tara said, distressed.
Willow looked at her pretty coldly.
“No, I think you're being pretty clear.”
Tara looked at her, heart in her eyes.
“I trust you. I just…” she trailed off and looked down, “I don't know where I'm gonna fit in…in your life when…”
“When… what?” Willow asked, though she was doing pretty well at putting the two and two of the different parts of the conversation together, “When I graduate? When I leave you to get some big career, get over the thrill of love and buckle down to my real ambition, education? Academia?”
Willow waiting for her claim to be thrown away for the ludicrous statement it was, but Tara’s silence said everything.
“You think that?”
Tara’s eyes slowly lifted.
“Should I?”
Willow felt her heart split in two.
“I'm really sorry that I didn't establish my relationship street cred before I met you. You’re the only person I’ve ever fallen in love with, so… how on earth could you ever take me seriously?”
She started towards the door and Tara came after her.
“Willow, please!”
“Have fun at the fair,” Willow spat as she stormed out and banged the door behind her.
Tara winced, sniffled and stayed rooted to the spot for several moments.
She watched the door and waited for it to open again.
When it didn't, she grabbed her purse and left.
Willow was at a bit of a loss on where to go after storming out, but had made her way to the very corner chair in the thankfully empty student lounge. She sat with her knees bunched up feeling sorry for herself for a while until Eden came in, looking around the floor for a book.
She nodded to Willow when she spotted her.
”You all right?”
Willow continued to sulk.
“Yeah.”
Eden spotted her lost book and grabbed it, then dropped into the seat beside Willow.
“Ah yes, because your good mood is both obvious and contagious.”
Willow made a swipe at her eyes.
“I had a fight with Tara. It was awful.”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” Eden replied sympathetically.
Willow sniffed.
“Me too.”
Eden offered her a tissue from her pocket.
“You two don't fight much, do you?”
Willow wiped her nose with the tissue and thought back to the disagreements and arguments she’d had with Tara in their time together. They had been thankfully infrequent, though still stung to think about.
She thought of how heartbroken she was when she thought Tara broke up with her for snooping on her dad in those early days; she thought of the doozy of an argument when she thought Tara was cheating with Mia, but they didn’t seem the same somehow.
Tara didn’t trust her, and she’d admitted it. It wasn’t Willow’s tendency for wild jumping to conclusions. It was real, and it was a deeper pain than anything before.
“Not…not like this,” she said forlornly, “Until today.”
Eden patted her shoulder comfortingly.
“Well, now it's over.”
Willow’s head shot up.
“Over?!” she asked, tone distressed, “How can it be over? I just found her!”
“The fight is over,” Eden clarified.
Willow settled back down.
“Oh. Yeah.”
Eden made a ‘chin-up’ motion.
“You'll feel better when you've made your apologies and you'll know that you can fight without the world ending.”
“I thought I knew that before now,” Willow replied quietly, “This one feels…different.”
Eden smiled kindly.
“I know it all seems bleak now, but as they say, this too shall pass.”
Willow didn’t feel much like talking any more or having platitudes thrown at her, so just nodded and hid her head in her knees. Eden understood and patted her shoulder again before leaving her to mope.
Willow played out the fight again and again, unable to think of a single other thing than the look on Tara’s face and the deafening silence between them.
How could she not trust me? And for how long? Since I started the project? All that time and not say anything? Why would she even think it? I know I got a little obsessed but I tried to stop! She’s just spent all this time thinking–Her eyes suddenly lifted above her knees and widened.
Oh my god. I did this to her. With Mia. It’s exactly what I did with Mia. I was worried and didn't say anything. Except Tara didn’t blow up at me when it came out, she tried to talk it out and I stormed away. Just like I did this time.“Shit.”
She jumped up and ran back to the room.
“Tara, I’m–”
She paused in the doorway, hand still on the knob and realised Tara had clearly left already.
Yeah, like you told her to. Stop getting mad. Just talk. Listen. Find her.
Tara dropped onto an empty bench, unable to enjoy browsing through the fair. She hadn’t had much hope to start with, but the room had been filled with that horrible energy and she’d needed to get out.
She spent a few minutes contemplating what to do next before deciding that hopefully enough time had passed and she’d just go find Willow and apologise. She knew she was wrong to doubt Willow and had spent the last weeks telling herself that but unfortunately Willow had figured her out before she’d been able to finish the whole emotional journey by herself.
Just as she was about to stand up, she felt a hand slipping into hers on the bench. She smiled as they entwined.
“Willow–”
“Don’t make a sound,” a rougher, male voice interrupted.
Tara looked up to see who was there. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw an unfamiliar but altogether unthreatening-looking, even good-looking, man – had he not had her hand crushed in a vice grip.
She began to stand but was yanked back with the most agonising pop to one of her fingers. Tara’s instinct was to hold back the scream - it always made him madder when she screamed.
Tara noticed he was in scrubs and had a nametag with Ben on it, though she guessed he hadn’t come from the medical tent for a chat.
“B-Ben,” she tried, trying to keep her voice calm despite the searing pain pulsing through her fingers, drawing on some experience with autistic children at her internships, “W-will you let my hand go?”
‘Ben’ looked around the other attendees passing by them, uninterested.
“Nah.”
Tara looked around for someone to help but people were just walking by. Ben noticed and laughed.
“There's no one here that can stop me.”
Tara opened her mouth, deciding keeping calm and quiet wasn’t the right route, but Ben silenced her with a look and pointed to where three syringes were poking out of the breast pocket of his scrubs. He then pointed to a nearby woman.
“I'll kill her.”
He pointed to another couple .
“And… and them. I'll kill him, and her and her.”
He laughed manically and Tara knew something was really, really wrong.
“And it'll all be your fault.”
His rough nails dug into Tara’s palm. Tara whimpered and didn’t know what to do, with no idea what was in those syringes. Ben chuckled.
“Kinda funny, isn't it? All these people here and… no one who can do a thing. Not a person who can help you.”
Tara was starting to breathe erratically in pain as the crushing sensation got more palpable by the second.
“But that's people for ya,” Ben continued, in his own little world, “They're pretty worthless. But keys, on the other hand ... keys are worth a very lot.”
Tara was on the verge of shouting for help every few seconds but imagining how quickly one of those syringes could go into her neck made her cower instead.
“K-Keys?” she asked, hoping keeping him engaged would give her an out.
Ben looked her squarely in the eye.
“You. You’re my key out of here.”
“I’m n-not a key to anything,” Tara reasoned calmly.
Ben just laughed again and stood up, yanking Tara up by her limp hand with him. Tears formed in Tara’s eyes from the pain. Ben saw and was savvy enough to see a few people notice too. He realised there was no way he could pull her through the crowd or use her as bait without getting himself hurt and entirely blamed Tara for it.
His eyes darted from side to side and he pulled Tara back down.
“You lying little tramp!” he sneered, seething, “You're not the key, you're nothing! Just another worthless human being! “
Tara was really crying now, distraught, almost feeling guilty.
“I didn't–”
Ben’s hold on her hand was only getting tighter.
“I hate being lied to. It makes me feel so betrayed,” he spat, eyes losing touch with reality with every growing second, “Hey! You wanna make it all better?”
Tara looked at him with fear.
“If you tell me who the key really is,” Ben said with a horrifically charming smile, “…I'll let you go.”
Tara looked alarmed. Her best guess was he was looking for a way to get through the crowds without being caught, and she could readily assume he was being sought after. She gulped down a sob as he used his weight to press on her hand under his.
“Think about it. You think your hand hurts? Imagine what you'd feel with my fingers wiggling in your brain,” he said, full on ranting now to a horrified looking Tara, “It doesn't kill you. What it does… is make you feel like you're in a noisy little dark room…naked and ashamed…and there are things in the dark that need to hurt you because you're bad…little pinching things that go in your ears...and crawl on the inside of your skull. And you know…that if the noise and the crawling would stop… that you could remember how to get out.”
He stopped to look thoughtful for a moment while Tara took the opportunity to try and signal for some help. Passing people shot them pitying looks like they were a bickering couple and moved on.
Ben turned angry again quickly as he thought of his locked room with the soft walls and barren interior.
“And I will never, ever go back.”
Willow walked through the fair, keeping an eye out for a familiar face. She stopped at one stall that was selling lots of Celtic and mystical jewellery, thinking it was Tara’s kind of stuff. She offered a weak smile to the hippy-ish woman standing there and brought out her wallet to show the picture she kept of the two of them in there.
“You haven’t seen her around, have you?”
The woman smiled.
“Kind spirit and sad eyes. She looked at these rings and journeyed west.”
Willow looked down at the rings on display.
“Was there any in particular?”
The woman picked out a clay ring, coloured black with gold tribal designs and a feature pearl set on top. Willow noticed it was one of the cheapest in the display so figured she wasn’t getting played, and bought it. The woman put it in a purple velvet pouch and handed it to Willow with her change.
“Echo Diana in your search for her. Blessed Be.”
“Um, right, thanks,” Willow replied, putting the ring away safely, “This way?”
The woman nodded with a smile so Willow set off in the direction shown. It got busier and busier as she got further into the fair. Finally after nearly getting trampled on by a couple of large men, she spotted Tara’s face. Even with everything, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Tara!” she yelled, though there was music playing to drown her out, “Tara!”
She dodged another couple of fair-goers and then noticed then that there was a guy sitting next to her.
“Hey, what?” she asked aloud, then watched in horror as his hands went to her head and started to violently shake her, “Hey! What!? No! No! Stop!”
She ducked under some people but wobbled when she saw Tara’s head being slammed against the arm of the bench.
“TARA!”
Willow made it onto the path but got blocked as people dancing along as a Chinese dragon took over the walkway.
“Move!” she screamed, wondering why no one else was coming to her girlfriend’s aid, “Tara!”
The crowd finally cleared and Willow sprinted over to where Tara was, now alone on the bench with her head lolling off to the side. Willow looked around everywhere but the man she’d seen had fled. She looked back to Tara and grabbed her shoulders.
“Tara, Tara, are you okay?”
Tara’s eyes were glazed and she wasn’t altogether there.
“It's dirty. It's all dirty. And all over me!” she mumbled, her hand falling over limp against her stomach, “Dirty. Dirty. I'm bad. Bad.”
Willow didn’t understand but looked down at Tara’s swollen and bruised hand and burst into tears.
“Tara. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”
She cradled Tara’s head for a moment, then pulled herself together when she realised how busted up her girlfriend’s hand was.
“Baby, come on, I got you, it’s okay.”
She hugged Tara’s waist to hers and helped her stand. The student health clinic was not too far in the distance but Willow took the long way to avoid any more bumps by going through the crowd.
The clinic was set up with a big medical tent in front of it that housed a triage area; some beds and various pieces of portable medical equipment. Willow brought Tara in but paused when she saw what all of the doctors were wearing.
“Hey! It was one of your guys!”
A female doctor, who had been checking on a man with heatstroke, looked over and approached when she saw the state Tara was in.
“One of our guys?”
“That attacked her!” Willow replied, taking a step back with Tara in tow, “Some guy in those scrubs! I didn’t see him up close but he had those on!”
“Everyone scheduled to work today is here and this lady looks like she needs some help. Let’s get her onto a gurney,” the doctor replied calmly, “What happened?”
Willow reluctantly let her help Tara over to a bed and to lie down.
“Some guy in scrubs was sitting next to her on a bench, he shook her and banged her head on the arm of it and ran off before I got there. He must have done this to her hand too.”
The doctor shone a light in Tara’s eye, who jerked her head away.
“What’s her name? Did she faint, throw up, act confused?”
“Tara, I don’t think so, no, and yes,” Willow replied in order, “She kept calling herself dirty and bad for a few seconds and then she just sort of slumped.”
The doctor shined the light again.
“Tara can you hear me? Do you know the date?”
Tara mumbled a reply so the doctor kept talking to Willow.
“Has she spoken like that before? The babbling?”
“Not like this, but she’s used those words to describe herself,” Willow replied, swallowing a lump in her throat, “Her dad used to beat her up and she said that was how she felt. Dirty. Bad. Is she okay? What about her hand?”
The doctor put a hand under Tara’s wrist and Tara yelped.
“This is going to need an x-ray,” she said, calling a man in different coloured scrubs over, “Left hand. Posterior-anterior, oblique and lateral x-rays. TBI assessment.”
The guy nodded and started to wheel Tara away.
“Wait…” Willow interjected, stepping forward.
“She’ll be okay, I promise,” the doctor reassured, “Is she your sister?”
Willow watched, dejected, as Tara got brought inside the building.
“She’s my everything.”
The doctor nodded sympathetically but had to move onto a green-looking kid that had just entered with his father. Willow sat on one of the lawn chairs in the corner and held her head in her hands.
She didn’t know how long she waited there, seeing Tara’s pulped hand and her head being slammed so violently over and over again in her head, but it felt like an age before the doctor came over and tapped her on the shoulder.
“She’s resting in one of the treatment rooms inside to keep her away from the chaos in here. You can go sit with her. She has a concussion, that’s why she was confused. She can sleep but wake her up every 15 minutes. We’ll be by to make sure and monitor her, so don’t worry.”
Willow jumped up and shook the doctor's hand.
“Thank you so much.”
She ran in without asking which room it was, but only one door was open once she got past the reception area. She hovered in the doorway, unsure if she was wanted, but as soon as Tara’s head turned to see her, her whole face flooded with relief.
“Willow.”
Willow was both thrilled to see her and that she seemed a lot more lucid.
“Baby,” she said, rushing over to be by her side, “How are you doing?”
Tara held up her arm, which was in a sling, and showed off her strapped fingers and bruised hand.
“I dislocated my finger. Hurt like hell putting it back in.”
Willow gulped and tenderly held her hand, then stroked around the area on Tara’s head where the bump was protruding.
“Looks like a pretty big owie.”
“They gave me something for it, it’s not too bad,” Tara replied, eyes glassy from the drugs.
Willow closed her eyes but made herself open them again.
“Tara I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Tara shook her head immediately.
“No, Willow–”
Before she could continue, there was a knock on the door. A male police officer was standing there, a notebook already in his hand, along with the doctor that had treated her.
“You’re the girl who got attacked?” the officer asked.
Tara nodded and tried to sit up a bit.
“Did you call the cops?” she asked Willow.
“We report all assaults,” the doctor answered for her.
“Would you mind answering some questions?” the officer asked.
“Sure,” Tara agreed, while the doctor came to give her a once over.
Tara explained everything she could remember and the doctor stuck around to listen.
“You say he had needles?” the officer asked.
Tara nodded.
“He had three sticking out of his coat pocket. The liquid looked green, I had no idea what it was.”
“Green?” the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tara nodded again and the doctor left and came back moments later.
“Did it look like this?”
Tara’s eyes grew wide.
“Exactly like that.”
The doctor clicked the top up and down.
“They’re pens. We give them out to kids who brave an injection.”
“And you say the scrubs matched these ones here?” the officer prompted, scribbling on his pad.
“Yes and the nametag said Ben,” Tara replied assuredly, “But he didn't really respond to it. And it had a red-cross symbol on it.”
The doctor indicated the badge hanging off the pants of her scrubs.
“We switched from nametags to badges six months ago.”
“He didn’t seem very…sane,” Tara added in.
“Well duh, who the hell holds someone captive on a fair bench with injection pens!” Willow exclaimed, growing furious as she listened to Tara’s account.
“I mean he was ranting and raving,” Tara explained, “It was disturbing.”
The officer wiped his sweaty brow and Willow had to avoid cringing.
“Anything else you need to add?”
“Only that Tara’s been hurt way too much at this place,” Willow replied, a vein in her forehead popping with anger.
“Have you been attacked on this campus before?” the officer questioned, brow lifting.
Willow answered before Tara could.
“Yeah, she has, by some perve hiding in our closet.”
“It’s not related,” Tara interjected, “He was a high school student on a college tour. This guy was in his 30s. And, you know, insane.”
The officer finished writing and nodded.
“I’ll be in touch. Thanks.”
He nodded to the doctor who nodded politely back.
“Sorry for the interrogation so soon, Tara, but this guy is on the loose,” the doctor said when he was gone, “I’ll stay in the room with you if he comes back.”
Tara appreciated the concern for her comfort and security and smiled gratefully.
“Thank you so much.”
The doctor checked Tara’s pulse quickly.
“You look more together, how are you feeling?”
“Dazed, but I know my name, the year, and unfortunately, the president,” Tara replied and the doctor laughed.
“Tell me about it, I’m counting down to the election next year,” she said, smiling, “We’re just going to monitor you for a couple of hours and you should be fine to go home them. Sit tight, okay girls?”
They both nodded and Willow pulled up a chair and they sat in a gradually-growing-awkward silence until Tara finally broke it again.
“This isn’t your fault. What I was saying before.”
Willow looked at Tara’s face and slowly swept some hair from her girlfriend’s brow.
“Since I’ve known you…anaphylactic shock…stitches…sprained ankle…dislocated finger…concussion…and I was the cause of two of them. All of them, really,” she said with a scoff at herself, her tone getting weepy, “I promised I’d never let anyone hurt you again and…”
She didn’t want to cry in front of Tara, so she looked away.
“You really have some crappy luck. Do we live on some kind of a hellmouth?”
“It’s not your fault,” Tara repeated again, “It’s my fault. I if hadn’t made us fight…”
Willow opened her mouth but quickly closed it again.
“Later. You need to rest.”
Tara was tired but between the constant beeping, the uncomfortable bed and loud music floating in from outside, no sleep was happening. There was a TV in the corner of the ceiling and after a long while of more awkward silences, Willow went out to request the remote from reception.
They watched Judge Judy in silence with intermittent visits from a nurse until the officer and doctor were at the door. The officer had a picture, which he showed to Tara.
“Can you confirm this is the man who attacked you?”
Tara’s stomach churned and she nodded.
“Yes.”
The officer nodded and tucked away the photo.
“This man walked out of a nearby psychiatric facility this morning. He was caught on the grounds but evaded the gardener before security got there. He has a history of grandiose delusions of being a deity and multiple personality disorder.”
“Dissociative identity disorder,” both Willow and the doctor corrected at the same time.
The officer just nodded, not really caring if he said it right.
“We think he found a box with supplies while the tent was being set up and used them to seem inconspicuous.”
“We only use the scrubs for outdoor events, there could have been an old nametag lost in one of the boxes,” the doctor added, “We had an orderly named Ben a couple of years ago.”
“He tried to hold up a fast food restaurant a few blocks over. Said he was going to feed on all of their mental energies if they didn’t give him some fries,” the officer said with a slight shake of his head, “Anyway, they had a panic button and he’s been brought back to the hospital, in a more secure unit.”
“Good, I hope he stays there,” Willow spat.
“Willow, stop, he needs help,” Tara replied softly.
“Do you want to press charges, ma’am?” the officer asked.
Tara shook her head.
“No. I hope he gets better.”
“Tara, are you sure?” Willow asked, hating the feeling of helplessness, “All these people…they don’t get to hurt you and terrorise you and get away with it!”
Tara sighed.
“Okay, yes, I don’t have the best track record, but who is charging him going to help? It’s hard enough to get mental health treatment in this country as it is. I just want to sleep.”
“Okay, baby,” Willow replied, accepting it reluctantly, “Can I take her home?”
The doctor checked her watch and nodded.
“Yes, you can. Bring her right back or to the ER if any new symptoms come on and check every so often while she’s sleeping.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her,” Willow replied, offering her arm to help Tara up, “Thanks for all your help.”
“Take care of yourself, Tara,” the doctor said, patting her gently on the back.
Tara smiled her thanks and Willow walked her back to their dorm, which they thankfully didn’t have to wade through the crowds to get to as it was in the opposite direction. Willow held the door open and closed it without looking at Tara.
“Hopefully you’ll be able to sleep now…”
Tara perched on the corner of the bed.
“Can we please talk? I hate this.”
Willow was going to protest but finally just nodded.
“Yeah, okay.”
She leaned against the desk and folded her arms gently over her chest. Tara clutched the side of the bed but made herself keep her eyes up.
“So…I’ve been…harbouring some concerns, I guess.”
“You think you’re not my priority,” Willow replied, clenching her teeth a bit, but nodding, “We did have that little fight before. Where I wasn’t asking about your day and stuff. So there was some neglecting. But I tried to be better, I tried to ask, I tried not to let it overtake everything, even with the extension.”
Tara nodded.
“You did.”
Willow held a hand up.
“Then why…?”
“I-I panicked,” Tara replied, sniffling already, “One of the professor’s wives said all this stuff about being married to a professor having his work as his mistress at your party…I thought…I thought, wow that kind of already happened and it was just a six week summer job. What’s going to happen when it’s a full time job, with expectations and goals and performance reviews and we're married or we have kids and-”
Willow pushed herself off the desk.
“That’s him, not me! I wouldn’t!”
Tara ducked her head.
“I know.”
“Then why…?” Willow repeated, frustrated.
Tara smarted slightly.
“Look, Willow, it’s not like I was thinking every second we were together that we were on borrowed time. I told myself I was being dumb to listen, I told myself it was stupid and unfair and that’s why I didn’t say anything. I would have gotten there by myself, this just sped it up.”
“But you clearly believed it,” Willow countered.
Tara nodded.
“It got in my head and I’m sorry. I didn’t really have a voice growing up… it’s easier for me to keep it all in sometimes. I’m sorry.”
Willow exhaled slowly and deflated, deciding it wasn’t worth all the aggression.
“I can relate to that,” she said, then sighed softly, “I’m sorry too.”
Tara looked up hopefully. Willow came over and took her good hand.
“I did give you reason to doubt me, and I didn’t do enough to convince you otherwise. We should have talked more. Checked in. Had a feelings amnesty where we agreed to listen without fighting.”
She paused and took a deep breath.
“I know we’ve had fights before but earlier I thought I was just about to die with the pain of it all…I realised how crappy you must have felt when I accused you of being with Mia. And that when we fight I go in, temper blazing. I need to fix that,” she said, lifting Tara’s hand to kiss her knuckles, “And you forgave me, so I can forgive you too.”
Tara’s eyes shone with relief, which Willow could see quite evidentially.
“And just so you know…you will always be my number one,” Willow said, moving to cup Tara’s cheek instead, “The second you think it changes, tell me so we can rectify it. Don’t keep that stuff in.”
Tara smiled a watery smile and swiped at her eyes.
“Might not be so bad being a professor’s wife after all.”
Willow hesitated for a moment, not liking the ‘professor’ part nearly as much as the ‘wife’ bit.
“Tara I mean, I don’t even know if…” she started to reply but it was too much for one day to continue that thought, “I just know that you’re the only certainty in my life. Do you trust that? Really trust that?”
Tara nodded.
“Yes. I promise.”
Willow nodded too and finally smiled.
“I don’t even think I remembered lunch with everything. Want a sandwich? I’ll run out and get us some.”
Tara shook her head, but Willow noted some sadness.
“What is it? Do you not believe me? Because I promise–”
“No, no,” Tara cut off, “I do. I just needed to hear it. And I realise that we totally let our communication slip. You didn't always ask and I didn't always tell and we both need to do both.”
She paused and blushed slightly.
“It’s just…it’s stupid. I was just looking forward to sharing a Turkish kebab or something like that with you.”
Willow smoothed down Tara’s eyebrow, then planted a tender, sweet kiss on her lips.
“Lay down darling, you look so tired. Here, take some painkillers first.”
Tara was so relieved the air between them had finally lifted and her heart felt ten times lighter than it had in the preceding weeks.
Willow's head was buzzing with everything and she was planning all the ways to make sure this didn't happen again. She got Tara two pills and some water, then helped her get into pyjamas and lie down.
Tara was suddenly overcome with exhaustion and fell asleep in seconds.
When she woke up, it was to an unusual smell. She sat up and Willow turned around to see her.
“Hey baby,” she greeted, then brought over a brown paper bag that had been leaning against the leg of the desk, “Look what I have.”
Tara took out the two rolled items inside and laid out one. She looked up to Willow with hearts in her eyes.
“Turkish kebabs.”
Willow smiled and sat up close to her.
“Well, better than tuna-fish sandwiches.”
She handed Tara a plastic fork to help her eat one handed and fed her some too while she ate her own.
“Lucky you’re ambidextrous,” she commented when she saw how well Tara was doing, but immediately blushed, “I didn’t mean
that.”
Tara just smiled, but it turned sad.
“Good thing I don’t have to sign anymore.”
Willow inhaled and exhaled softly, rubbing Tara’s arm.
“So sorry, baby. Been a rough summer for you. Didn't want to remind you of it, hoped hugs would help. I should've comforted you better.”
Tara shrugged softly.
“I was a little upset about it. But it's good to hear you were thinking of me,” she replied, leaning into Willow's touch, “And it was a pretty good summer. Just a tough few weeks. But a lot of it was of my own making. I could – should – have talked to you.”
Willow nodded.
“Yeah. But it’s over now. And really, Tara, just…look, you have nothing worry about in the future department. But we have to trust each other.”
“I do,” Tara promised emphatically, “I swear it.”
“I trust you,” Willow replied, sharing a smile with her, “And we have to learn to talk better. Our lives got hectic and we sacrificed relationship time. That’s not okay.”
Tara nodded too.
“Our lives are only going to get busier. We need to know we’re communicating.”
“I’ll do my best,” Willow replied, then sighed, “This is heavy stuff, it might not change overnight. But if one of us notices something, we agree to talk about it? I think every night we should do 10 minute talky time. Make sure we’re checking in.”
Tara leaned over and pressed her lips to Willow’s in a sign of agreement. Willow smiled against it.
“Hey, I got ya something.”
She got the velvet pouch out of her pocket and presented it to Tara, who opened it and let the ring fall out into her palm. She stared at it for a few seconds, then slowly looked up to Willow.
“How did you know?”
“Because you’re my girl,” Willow replied, but Tara was already focusing back on the ring, so she moved in and kissed her on the forehead, “Hear that, baby?
Tara broke her gaze away to look at Willow, who smiled and squeezed Tara’s good hand.
“You’re my always.”
[/rant]
And that's kind of the best part. Not that I don't enjoy all the rest, because I really do.
- 
I’ve also written Tara as supremely confident from the get go and not as a consequence of coming out of her shell with Willow, and I really dislike those fics now – I sometimes think about taking them down, but I figure you have to honour the bad stuff and learn from your mistakes.