The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe Willow & Tara Forever

by **Zampsa1975** » Sat Dec 08, 2007 5:53 am

Great update-y goodness... I just hope that Tara lets Willow to love her as much as she loves Willow... Willow really needs all the pieces of the puzzle...

by **taraslove** » Sat Dec 08, 2007 8:39 am

What? She can't take the rabbits anymore and..... What?
*scratches head and puzzles*

Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. First off, let me say thank you for the compliment of enjoying my humble fic. Your words are very kind. And now I repay the compliment by saying that I'm enjoying yours immensely. You have such a wonderful, beautiful way of writing. I totally know what it's like to get a big silly grin when reading FB (particularly some of the FB left for my fic... it's just crazy stuff), so glad I could make you smile.

Tara the Phoenix wrote:How do you work at all with your fic running around in your head?

heh. It's definitely not easy. Completely distracting. Torture, you might even say.

Seriously, I'm so emotionally attached to your fic that I had several apocalyptic-type reactions this update.

You did such a wonderful job bringing us into the intimacy of Willow's and Tara's discussion. I'm glad Tara found some courage to talk about what she knows, even if it was just a little. I found out when I got through it that I was holding my breath the whole time. Wonderful. Oh, and very sensual image, too, with the lotioning and all. Seems like Willow's breadcrumbs aren't only thoughts but physical feelings as well. Nice job.

Tara the Phoenix wrote:“That would what? Tara, what did you do?” Willow asked; she could see that Tara's face was anguished. “Wait,” she said. Immediately several things clicked in her mind. Caleb was holding her hostage in a coma, but she was awake now. Thespia was the jailer of demons. Tara was wearing the amulet of Thespia, and hadn't taken it off a single moment since Willow met her. And there was a wall. “You didn't,” she breathed.

“I had to, Willow,” Tara said, her voice firm, but she still wouldn't look at Willow, she concentrated on rubbing lotion into her upper arm.

Holy Buckets! I just CANNOT believe that Willow would even think of herself as an assignment to Tara after that admission. And Tara taking Caleb on herself. I seriously had to stop reading for a minute and get control of myself. Honestly.

And if that wasn't enough, now she's taking Willow's pain and giving her her own good cells. God, Tara, you are angelic. Amazing. I'm a little teary. If Willow doesn't latch on to that one, she needs more than Althanea telling her what's what. Sheesh.

Speaking of, I love it that Althanea's pushing Willow so hard. Willow needs it, and it fits in so damn well with Althanea's character. Loved it.

Hmmm. So the doc loves Tara, huh? I can't blame him, but I have a feeling that that little tidbit is going to be important in another part of the story.

And lastly, but certainly not leastly, I'm thinking that if Tara is now imprisoning Caleb, and the last time Willow had to destroy Caleb she had to chop someone in half, and this story is written by a person named Phoenix, and I know what Phoenixes (Phoenixi????) are known for......

Well, you're not planning on doing what I think you're planning on doing?

*adds in a smallish, squeaky, nervous voice*
are you?

Great update, Phoenix! Simply wonderful. Very much looking forward to the next. Oh, and I hope you feel better soon.

by **katjetson** » Sat Dec 08, 2007 5:43 pm

Phoenix!

I'm thankful for the way you recounted a lot of what's happened in earlier parts of your story. Reading a chapter or so every week, one tends to forget exactly how things came to be and what not, and you weaved explanations into this chapter effortlessly. It's great because we get to be a part of Willow's reaction to Tara's unconditional love heroics.

I'm only your nurse,” Tara stammered. “Just a nurse.”

Nono, Tara is Willow's always. I can't wait until she completely realizes that. In fact, I feel like she already knows considering Willow's now realization of just how much Tara has given to her thus far. Our herse (hero/nurse) is fainting for godssakes! Someone get the woman a double shot of wheatgrass or a demon, or whatever she needs to get her supercharged and re-celled. I almost teared up a little at the emptiness Willow felt when she realized Tara wasn't going to be around that night. But then I remembered the sneaky peak Will snuck at Tara's breasts earlier in the story. See, it's not all bad...

Phoenix, get well, feel better and all that good stuff.

K to the J

by **LittleBit** » Sun Dec 09, 2007 5:19 am

Wonderful update Phoenix ... you really tied up a lot of loose ends and recapped the story in such a way as to show us another aspect. The way you tease with "remembered" events when Willow is trying to recall is really good.

Keep up the great work and cannot wait for the next installment.

by **JustSkipIt** » Sun Dec 09, 2007 8:34 am

Phoenix - Wow. Willow's at the edge of understanding everything and nothing at the same time. I'm fascinated at Althanea's method of encouraging her to investigate on her own. She's almost harsh in wanting Willow to confront her feelings for Tara. At the same time she is gentle and comforting. But she definitely wants Willow to figure it out. I can't tell if that is for Willow or for Tara or for both of them or for the mission to save the world. Either way, it's an interesting tack.

Tara stared at Willow's knuckles, and Willow saw her swallow. “Well, Aranaea did tell me that the world would cease to exist if I didn't save you.” Willow's heart fell. So she was just an assignment, a little blip in Tara's life.

How heartbreaking for Willow. Of course later she finds out that the pain Tara is now in so I would assume she understands that she can't just be a normal patient.

I'm amused at the thought of going and getting a demon and more so at the thought of Ethan who a week ago knew nothing about it asking.

Sorry I don't have more time but wonderful.

by **ceridwen** » Sun Dec 09, 2007 12:32 pm

Willow is slowly finding out more and more of the truth... that's good cuz it means that she'll soon know that Tara is sick and she has to figure out a way to save her.

Although it's also kind of sad that she won't have the chance to explore her feelings for Tara without any other concerns.

Demon stuff always gets in the way :happy

by **wimpy0729** » Sun Dec 09, 2007 1:21 pm

Hey Phoenix!

Well, at least Tara is able to share some important info with Willow here, even if she doesn't want to yet. But some of Willow's own memories are emerging and making it necessary, so I guess it is time.

Willow's bodily reactions to the closeness of Tara are quite revealing and a little confusing to Willow, at least for now. I loved her reaction, being upset, when she realized that Tara had taken Caleb. That right there should tell her that she is not just some other patient to Tara. I think it looks like it's all coming around and falling into place.

I hope someone goes on a demon hunt soon for Tara's sake. She really needs to be able to release some of that yucky stuff soon.

Great job again, as always.

Take care,
Wimpy

by **Yours** » Mon Dec 10, 2007 11:47 am

Awesome update!!!!

Sorry my reply is late.

Phoenix this fic is amazing!!!!!!

You're doing such an amazing job with it!

I can totally understand Tara's need to hold back telling Willow what happened, she just wants Willow to get better and have a few days of not having to worry about saving the world.

But what's going to happen with Tara? She can't take the rabbits anymore?!?!?! I hope she can take the demons, she must be in so much pain! :paranoid

Well can't wait until the next update!!!!

Take care.

XX Rachel XX

by **Alcy** » Mon Dec 10, 2007 2:06 pm

Hi there Phoenix,
I’m determined not to let another update slip away from me without leaving feedback so here I am!

“I just wanted to protect you,” said her nurse. “I just wanted you to have a few days, just a few freaking days when the world wasn’t in peril!” She raised her voice and clenched her hands and shook with feeling…

I can understand why Tara would make such an outburst, she’s angry, she wanted to give Willow more time to recover but wonder if she could have avoided telling Willow just now...maybe it’s just me wanting more quiet time between the two of them. Although in a way I think that this might play into Tara’s plans, she’s not giving herself those few days of peace for Willow to get to know her…to fall for her, which is exactly what she thinks she can’t allow happen for Willow to be able to do what she must.
Tara’s words cannot be easy for Willow to deal with in her state.

So she was just an assignment, a little blip in Tara's life.

Ouch, glad Tara puts her straight about that little point quickly.
I’m also amazed that Willow could instinctively know that Ethan is in love with Tara and I’m not sure what this will mean if anything…
The passage with Willow discovering Tara’s healing powers was so well written and heartbreaking and I was a little angry at Althanea for asking the poor girl those difficult questions at such a time…but it was necessary to draw out Willow’s thoughts regarding Tara and it was interesting to read her answers.
I can’t wait for the next chapter and finding a demon for Tara! Thanks very much for the update Phoenix!

by **Zooeys_Bridge** » Mon Dec 10, 2007 5:36 pm

my dear Pheonix, I just wanted to let you know I've been reading and enjoying your updates with fervor. I haven't been able to leave as much fb as I'd like. It's been a hard couple of weeks and finals don't end for a little while, but I needed to let you know I'm still floating around and loving your work.

I hope hope hope you're feeling better and that life is treating you well.
My best wishes and hopes to you.

by **Tara the Phoenix** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 9:05 am

Some feedback response and then on to the next chapter!

dlline
Congrats on your double dibs! Thank you for your comments on Willow's character...

I particularly enjoy the AU slant that you give her, making her appear to be slightly less poised than canon, but I feel like you believe, as do I, that much of her poise came from her relationship with Tara on show, and since she never experienced that in your story, of course she'd be different.

That's also something I firmly believed, so I'm glad it's coming out in the story a little. She's really been worked over by Oz and she's got a lot of growing up yet to do. That imbalance of power: the almost-too-strong magical power and her very weak self-esteem, will be rectified only with Tara's help. Maybe that's what the healing is; showing Willow that she is also worthy of love and devotion.

Thank you for taking the time to comment, I appreciate it so very much. Well done on your own story, by the way. I'm mucho enjoying my twice-weekly dose of Agent Maclay and Dr. Rosenberg.

db
You have got the quirkiest sense of humour. I love reading your comments.

Rabbits and demons and fainting, oh my.

Can anyone say “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my?” You're a gem.

And you've definitely hit the nail square on the head with this one...

because Willow can't save her until she has all the pieces of the puzzle.

In Chapter 26, you'll find out how Willow decides to get all those pieces.

Thanks again for your help with the nurse stuff (and I definitely don't mean to degrade it by calling it stuff, it's just a convenient word, that's all...) I hope you enjoy what's coming!

Zampsa1975
Willow needs all the puzzle pieces. And what Willow wants, Willow usually gets. I hope you enjoy reading how it comes about. Thanks for commenting.

taraslove
So glad to see you have time for reading amidst your own mad posting frenzy. I love getting your feedback, and I'm glad you're enjoying my story. I know what it's like to be bitten by the writing bug – my muse Martha has me working doubletime on this story. I'm currently working on Chapter 30. I must say, some very fun stuff is on the horizon.

Considering your theorizing...

Well, you're not planning on doing what I think you're planning on doing?

*adds in a smallish, squeaky, nervous voice*
are you?

You really wouldn't want me to go ahead and tell you, would you? I think you've been handling db's M8BoS too much. I'm pretty sure you're going to love how it turns out. Keep reading!

katjenson
I decided to start recounting earlier stuff because I'd honestly forgotten some of it, too. As Tara tells her story to Willow we readers are reminded of exactly what happened earlier as well. My beta, masterjendu, sometimes picks up on things that I had totally forgotten about.

Someone get the woman a double shot of wheatgrass or a demon, or whatever she needs to get her supercharged and re-celled.

Hope is on the horizon, but I'm pretty sure it will take a form you just won't see coming! Thank you so much for commenting and I hope you enjoy what's coming up next.

LittleBit
I'm glad you're enjoying how the story is unfolding. I'm also very glad I've recapped past events, as so many kittens have said how valuable it is. Thanks for reading!

JustSkipIt
Ooh, I love comments from Deb! I've already read your story again and found it just as intoxicating as the first time. Which for me is a funny word to use because I've never drunk alcohol in my life and I have no idea what that kind of intoxication means. Maybe it's just getting high off your story. Yeah. That's it.

I'm fascinated at Althanea's method of encouraging her to investigate on her own.

Althanea is a confident, bouncy, caring individual that I think Tara wants to become. I wanted to make her react as a real person would, and you'll find another of those reactions in the chapter to come.

Ethan's indoctrination into this world has been swift, but he will do right by Tara. A week ago he didn't know demons existed, but I bet he'd hunt one himself if he thought it would help. Which it wouldn't. Because he'd just get killed. He's a doctor, not a demon-hunter. (Sorry, just channeling a little Star Trek.) I hope you enjoy the next update.

ceridwen
Thank you for commenting, I really appreciate it.

Although it's also kind of sad that she won't have the chance to explore her feelings for Tara without any other concerns.

Your comments reminded me of the movie 'Speed' where Sandra Bullock's character says that relationships born under stress just don't last. You're right, “demon stuff always gets in the way”. I think Willow will soon discover that she would have loved Tara anyway (actually, I know she is, because I already wrote that chapter). It's a valid query, though. I should write another fic where they get together again, without demons and Caleb this time... hmm...

Enjoy the next chapter and thanks for reading.

Wimpy
You've been spot on lately.

I loved her reaction, being upset, when she realized that Tara had taken Caleb.

That part was an absolute delight to write. I really wanted her to start glimpsing how much Tara has done for her. The rest of the information is coming, and then Willow's going to figure something out. Why? Because it's what Willow does. Thank you for being with me on my incredible journey.

Yours
No matter that replies are late. I'm just glad you took a moment to say hello. I'm very glad you've discovered my fic and that you are enjoying it so much. The story is really starting to come together, and I'm very excited to reveal coming chapters.

But what's going to happen with Tara? She can't take the rabbits anymore?!?!?! I hope she can take the demons, she must be in so much pain!

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? Might take a while to find out, though...

Thanks for reading.

Alcy
Glad to see you again! Thanks for taking a moment to comment, though I hope your typing fingers quickly return to the latest offering of Van Rosenberg.

Although in a way I think that this might play into Tara’s plans, she’s not giving herself those few days of peace for Willow to get to know her…to fall for her, which is exactly what she thinks she can’t allow happen for Willow to be able to do what she must.

You've got it exactly. Tara is a bit of a martyr. In a way she's scared for Willow to find out all that she's done because she thinks Willow will love her only out of a sense of duty. There has been so little peace in Willow's life, it's natural for her to want to share a gift of quiet, if only for a few days. So, a little bit of quiet is coming up. But not in this update. Wait for Chapter 26 (Friday). Thank you for commenting, Alcy!

Zooey's Bridge
Good to see you again. I'm glad to know that you've kept reading. I know that there isn't always time to leave fb, especially if you want to say something meaningful and everyone else has already said it. But thanks for letting me know you are still enjoying my story. Thanks for your best wishes.

And really, thanks to all you kittens, you've been a real support. My health continues to go up and down way too much, but hopefully I'll clue in one of these days how to keep it up more often. I live in the middle of nowhere and I miss being able to eat sushi. Ah, well.

Next update very soon.

by **Tara the Phoenix** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 9:11 am

Rating Change: R, for brief descriptions of violence
Note: Thanks to masterjendu, as always, for remaining an avid beta even while on vacation. Thanks, girl! (Skittles and Peter Cetera)

Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Deb (JustSkipIt) for reasons both obvious and hidden.

Chapter 25
The Hollowing

Tara sat alone on her kitten-abraded couch with a cooling cup of tea in her hand. She had tucked a thin knitted blanket about her legs and was staring at the television without seeing what was on. It was far too warm for said blanket, but she needed the comfort it provided, and disconsolately wished it could be something (someone!) else draped over her body, warming her, consoling her. Perhaps that was why the cup of tea cooled in her hand, untouched. Commercials about laundry detergent and anti-depressants flashed on and off and she didn't even budge.

It was all she could do to sit there without screaming. It took every meager resource in her besieged body to remain oh so quiet, oh so still, for any movement at all would shock her nervous system. Perhaps that's why the cup of tea cooled in her hand, why the remote lay lifeless by her side. She found she couldn't even think correctly – the experiences of the day flitted past her mind as if she were a mere observer. She could see her jaunty walk down the hallways of the hospice this morning, she could see her fingers working in the lotion on Willow's dry skin (and oh how intoxicating that was, I could barely think clearly, all I could comprehend was the aching desire that flooded me, how I yearned to hold her, be held by her), she could see Ethan holding up Willow's file folder, she could see the floor rising to meet her cheek with horrendous force as a wall of purple faint overcame her...

She was in darkness.

She was in peril.

She was being chased down long, unfamiliar streets by

(the long preacher, the dark hand, the silent might)

Caleb, and he hunted her with the easy grace of a natural predator, calling out to her, his words poison in her ears, filling her mind with madness. And he would catch her, and he would reave her, and bathe his face in her blood, put her blood on his tongue and shiver in ecstasy. Only as she felt her life drain into the gutter, her consciousness lifting, did she awaken from her faint.

Tara couldn't even blame her collapse (and subsequent torture) on the information Ethan had been sharing. His 'little discussion' with her was no more than a warning that Willow's parents had taken copies of everything in their daughter's file, ostensibly so they could sue them all later. No, she had been calmly sitting, enjoying an egg salad sandwich, enjoying a light conversation with Ethan, regretting the schism that had formed between them, when a vast roaring shut out all sound. Muffled, confused, Tara witnessed a shattering bolt of light rocket through her skull, and she passed out on the floor. She was frantic when she woke, weeping and gnashing her teeth.

Her tea was cold.

Tara could only breathe. A reality show came on and she wanted to change the channel, but she couldn't force her muscles to do more than simply breathe. Survivor Ash Island, indeed. Diaphragm moved up and down. Slowly. Up and down.

The pain was a sword in her side, a crack in her skull, a rip across her abdomen. Not a mischievous gremlin, no, not any more, not even a grinning imp, it was a living, breathing fiend, intent on conquering her body and rearranging it to its will. Would there be anything of her left when the pain was done? Or was it hollowing her, leaving only an empty husk, a shape that looked like a Tara-girl, but was only darkness inside?

Breathe, Tara.

Jeff Probst. Now there was a strange man. Traipsing all over the world, hanging about with stinky, ill-mannered people for 39 days. Ash Island, owned by a lady millionaire from Texas. Tara wished she could have an island. She could picture herself on an island, in a bikini, drinking pina coladas while surf crashed nearby, lazing on a towel with a Willow-girl hovering protectively over her, pouring suntan lotion on her and sensuously rubbing it into her skin. It took every ounce of effort she had to close her eyes and envision this properly.

But even in her bikini (it was green, the sea green of Willow's tempestuous eyes) she had a sword run through her, and a great rip across her abdomen, a fanged bite in her neck and a crack in her skull. And she would be struck by inner lightning, a surge of hatred from her prisoner, and she would fall to the ground, her eyes rolling back, lifeless. What would Willow do then? Cry and clutch frantically at her, call her name? (If I should lose you, my heart would be broken.)Or kick sand over her and lop her head off with a scythe and callously say, “As if I could ever love you”?

As heavy and gummy as they were, Tara opened her eyes. Slowly. Tara breathed. Slowly. Diaphragm up and down. When someone knocked on the door a few minutes later, the shock of it jangling her nerves nearly killed her. “Come in,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and called louder. “Come in.”

Robbers don't knock, do they? Maybe it was a polite robber, who wanted to knock before taking all her stuff and shooting her in the process. Right now she'd welcome the bullet. Maybe it was Ethan, come to check on her after her fainting spell earlier. It could be Althanea, though she said earlier she was going to go straight to Los Angeles after meeting with Willow.

It was Althanea. She came swiftly through the door, closing it behind her, and took in Tara's appearance in a single glance. The cold cup of tea, the blanket over the knees, the look of absolute deadness in Tara's eyes; Althanea's face creased in vast concern, and she rushed over to Tara.

Please don't touch me, I couldn't bear it if you touch me, Tara thought. Whether by mind-reading magic or by womanly intuition, Althanea did stop, and knelt by Tara's feet and gazed at her, her heart in her eyes. Whatever did I do to deserve her? “What can I do?” Althanea asked.

Tara barely swiveled her head to look at her guest. A single great tear rolled down her cheek, but she couldn't lift her enormously heavy hands to wipe it away. “Nothing,” she whispered. “There is nothing.”

“There must be something,” Althanea disagreed. “You can't take the rabbits, and I can't heal you, but Ethan told me you haven't yet tried a demon. I'll... I'll go get you a demon.”

(Believe me, Tara, there's not a single one of us that wouldn't die for you.)

Tara knew she should feel relief, but she was still in the clutches of the pain-fiend, who was still steadily eating chunks of her from the inside out, hollowing her, devouring her. Would there be any Tara left to love when he was finished? Would they all love a corpse?

Althanea could get her a demon. It was the last thing Tara could try. And if a demon didn't work

if my eyes don't turn black and I don't feel a wave of malicious pleasure in turning my gift inside out, harming instead of healing, taking instead of giving

Tara knew, oh Tara knew she was in trouble. “Do you need time off?” Althanea asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor at Tara's feet, still not touching her.

“I can't leave Willow,” Tara said softly. Breathe, Tara.

“Tara, you have to take care of yourself, too,” Althanea replied.

With every ounce of strength in her body, Tara swiveled her neck to look clearly at her guest. Another tear rolled down her cheek, tickling her, and hung, suspended, on her chin. She didn't have the power to wipe it away. “I need her,” Tara tried to explain. “I won't live without her.”

Tara wasn't sure if Althanea understood, yet, and Tara couldn't quite find the words. Not when even the heaviness of the thin blanket was suffocating her, when the cup of tea was an anchor in her hand. “I'll feel better after I sleep,” Tara promised.

“Doesn't all this nobility hurt?” Althanea asked, getting angrily up off the floor. Tara could barely watch her take a turn about the room, shutting off the TV in the process. Althanea returned to stand in front of Tara, her hands squarely on her hips. “Doesn't it hurt to be superwoman? You don't have to be perfect, Tara. You don't have to always be a damn paragon!”

Tara's throat closed, thickened with grief and tears and pain. “Touch me, please,” she croaked, lifting her hand. Althanea looked confused, then sat down next to Tara and took her hand, enfolding it in both of hers. “Close your eyes,” Tara asked.

Tara needed no tree now. She didn't need or want a reminder of what bad shape her body was in. She had something to explain to Althanea and she couldn't use words. Not when her jaw was so heavy, so thick. She probed delicately at the membrane of Althanea's consciousness, and lightly pushed in. She tried not to look too deep into the other woman's memories; these were private and she felt like an intruder. But what she could do was this....

(The choice was mine and mine completely)

For only a moment, a mere moment, Tara allowed Althanea to glimpse the horror of her life. In that moment was packed a million frames of violence and incest and hurtful words. The next moment she showed Althanea her desperation to rack up the blood debt, to end a life that was too painful to be borne alone.

“You may not think so, Tara, but I do love you,” Donny had yelled at her, the corpse of the cow at their feet. “How many sisters do you think I have?”

And the next instant she showed Althanea the moment beneath the Willow tree, the moment when she was the one cradled, and protected, and loved. In the truth of Willow's mind, it was obvious. Tara was her saviour, but Tara needed to be saved. The only one who could was Willow. Blushing, Tara showed Althanea the kissed blessing, the redhead's fingers upon her cheeks, the words that sealed her fate... (Tara Maclay, I don't even know you. But I love you.)

Tara brought them back out and heavily drew her hand away from Althanea's grip. The woman's face was indecipherable. “I need to be with her,” Tara said quietly.

There was silence for a long minute as Tara carefully watched Althanea's face. Though Althanea had known all along that Tara was in love with Willow, and that it was Tara's destiny to heal her with that love, it was quite another thing to blatantly show such intimacy. But Althanea's face melted, her earlier ire quite dissolved, and with a feathery touch Althanea brushed the drying tears from Tara's face. “I think I understand,” she whispered. Holding Tara's face carefully in her slightly wrinkled hands, Althanea leaned in and kissed Tara on the forehead. “I'll bring home a demon for you.”

Tara's face fell in concern. She opened her mouth to speak useless platitudes of 'be careful' when Althanea chuckled. “Don't worry, dear. Angel is going to help me. I'll be quite safe.”

“Thank you,” Tara mouthed. She couldn't even force her voice to work now. She had never felt quite this helpless before. As Althanea's gentle fingers pried her hand away from the cup of tea, setting it aside on a coffee table, love for this strange British witch filled Tara's whole soul. She was like a mother, like an older sister, a dear friend. Tara never had dear friends before, but since moving to Los Osos, since accepting her assignment from Aranaea, she had discovered a few. Why was that?

(the sacrifices will be great, but the rewards will be even greater.)

If the pain she was in at this very moment was any indication, then her reward would be spectacular beyond all reason. And Tara recalled the vision Aranaea sent her, the vision that drove her to anger, then finally to acceptance of her fate...

Tara was lying on her side on fresh-mown grass, sunshine filtering softly through green leaves. Soft sounds of laughter, of children playing next door, delicately intruded her little dome of sunshiny delight. She could smell the sharp tang of tomato plants, the soft musk of decaying plant matter, the sandalwood and rose of Willow’s hair. She ran her fingers through that gorgeously alluring red hair, smiling at the rising blush in Willow’s cheeks.

Willow was lying on her back along Tara’s body. Her face was turned invitingly towards Tara, her dimples deep in barely restrained joy. As Tara’s one hand gently caressed Willow’s hair, her other hand was entwined with one of Willow’s, and lay soothingly on Willow’s baby-distended belly. As Tara looked into Willow’s eyes she saw only the deepest contentment, a love so strong and whole that it turned her insides a-flutter.

And then Willow smiled, a low playful smile, and said, “Come here.”

Pulling on Tara’s entwined hand, Willow drew Tara over her like a blanket. Their lips met, and Willow pushed against her with familiar insistence, her tongue flicking against Tara’s mouth, demanding entry, and Tara more than gladly granted it, feeling her whole soul melt in the abiding sunshine of Willow’s love. There on the grass under the tree in their backyard, as Tara heard the bees buzzing around the flowers she had planted, as she smelled the intoxicating aroma of cut grass, as she felt their baby kick underneath her, Tara knew she had found heaven.

Althanea lifted Tara's legs and stretched them out on the couch, then fluffed a pillow and put it under Tara's head. Tara's face was a mask of agony and drops of sweat stood out upon her forehead. Althanea tucked the knitted blanket in tighter, and kissed her once again on the forehead.

“Be well, Tara,” her guest called just before exiting the house. Tara could hear the lock click behind her.

Tara could make no reply. For hours she remained in the vise-grip of a master torturer, aching for the sweet oblivion of sleep, but her body screamed and screamed in endless agony, as the pain-fiend continued its relentless hollowing. Even crying hurt too much, but she couldn't stop. A steady and slow leakage of tears wet the pillow beneath her. Too tired to turn on the TV again, even if only for blessed distraction, Tara tried to while away the hours by thinking on her favourite topic.

Willow. Her patient was too clever and intuitive by far. If Tara had known that Willow would deduce so much about her in the first hours of her awakening, she may have held off a bit. The speed of her girl's mind dazzled her. She had no intention of Willow learning so much so fast; she was afraid her girl would go off the deep end, would panic, or would shut down entirely. She hadn't figured on Willow's near-insatiable curiosity, or the quickness of her mind. She should have, though, from what everyone had been telling her. Tara had been blinded by Willow's coma, the helplessness of her girl in her sleep. She realized that she didn't really know Willow at all.

Was she in love with a figment, then? Was this Willow anything like the one who captivated her in her dream? Is she even remotely like the Willow who enchanted her in her mind, who covered her face with kisses, and made her feel whole? Did that Willow even exist?

In the bright of day, sitting at Willow's side, such questions would not have even come to Tara. Only here, manacled by agony, jolted with mental lightnings did her gentle mind go berserk. It was as if Caleb were whispering to her, a voice deep in her mind, whispering of betrayal, and torment, and nonreciprocating love. She was alone here, trembling on the couch as hours of night passed by without sleep. She must have slept, though she didn't recall it. Her eyes were open and red-rimmed when the darkness of night began to abate. Her hands were white-knuckled from clutching at the blanket all night long.

Tara had never been in such pain before, such unrelenting pain. Just when she thought she could feel no more, surely every nerve in her body was already shrieking, there was yet another jangle, another lightning strike, another long purple haze of faint. She fought the faint, terrified of Caleb. She breathed shallowly, in short quick gasps. Her whole world had boiled down to this couch and the conquering of every minute.

Just live, Tara. Just live sixty seconds more. Thirty seconds. Ten seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. One more minute, Tara. Keep breathing. Another minute, Tara.

There were no heaven-threads here to sustain her, no lilies from Peter Whitney. There was no chorus of angelic voices singing a hymn to her devotions. There were no drugs to stand for her in the boxing ring, no narcotics that would allow her to step to the side and lay down the fight, even if only for a while. Round after round Tara boxed with her shadowy adversary, her body weakening, she stumbling, she falling.

And ever and ever Caleb whispered to her, and tried to raise her ire, to blame her misery on her patient. It's all Willow's fault, you wouldn't be feeling like this if it weren't for Willow, you wouldn't be entertaining me if it weren't for her. You could be happy and working and content, Tara, but instead you are lying on the couch, and I'm devouring you...

Even the brief periods of unconsciousness were no relief. She would no sooner sink into unknowing depths of sleep when another twinge, another kick would rouse her once again. Tara hovered on the very edge of the spirit world, dancing with The Reaper. Memories skirted past her, fluttering lightly and quickly like butterflies on flowers, dancing from one to another with no sense of direction. She jumped from her childhood to her careful murder of the rabbits, to plucking apples from the orchard to calmly injecting something into a cancer patient.

Yet she lived. Whatever force it was that caused her body such agony, Tara still lived. The purple curtain still stood, shielding her from eternity and the joys within. Some part of her, the part that was tired beyond all reason, wished she could just step through that curtain and finally rejoin her mother. Finally be free.

It was the hope of glorious green eyes that grounded her. As the dawn came, it was Willow's face in her memory that kept her sane, the sound of Willow's name was her mantra. She intoned it again and again.

There, just there on the kitten-abraded couch, Tara stood at the crossroads of her life. For a moment she could see all her destinies, each stretching out into eternity. A million permutations of death, along with a million instances of love. Which path would she follow? There was a choice here to be made. There was always a choice. Aranaea may not believe so, and may try to force a human's hand, but in the end there is always choice.

Will you submit, Tara? Call the pain-fiend your master? Beg for the narcotics to dull it and give you peace? Will you slide down that slippery slope of narcotic haze, and do everything in your power to fog the pain away?

Or will you fight, Tara? Call upon your anger, and wage war with the pain, curse it, and revile it? Descend into depths of rage, and blame the gods for your anguish?

Or will you understand, Tara? Sink into your cells, allow yourself to feel every twinge, every rocket, every tear? When the pain hollows you will you still bless it?

So she struggled, there in the clear light of dawn. So she gazed down the avenues of her life's choices, and saw them for the truth they bore. So inspired, the ghostly memory of the arms of Maia supporting her, Tara closed all other doors except one.

Understanding.

No fighting. No submitting. Just understanding.

Could she honestly live the rest of her life this way? With unrelenting pain, hour after hour? Clutching feverishly to thin blankets, jaws clenched, sweat streaming, the only outlet of agony through hot tears? If so she could not bear it, not alone.

Could she overcome her martyrdom, her insane desire to keep Willow safe, and let Willow in? She had relented, once, under the willow tree, and allowed herself to be cherished, protected, and loved. That moment became the greatest moment of love and devotion she had ever known, and the memory of it soothed her far more than her thin knitted blanket. Could she finally open up her wall, and let Willow truly see? Did she really have to be alone? How many more instances of love could Willow show her?

Still no choir came. No heavenly voices. No warmth or joy or moment of peace. Nothing but a small and hard knot forming deep within her. Her eyes closed, Tara reflected on this knot, and considered it. It was a tiny thing, covered with a sort of grime. Meditating deeply, Tara mentally took up the little knob and turned it in her hands. With a fingernail, she scratched, and under the surface layer of grit lay a stone of unfathomable beauty. It was a diamond, clear and exquisitely crafted, glittering with every facet of the rainbow.

And Tara considered this diamond, and sunk her awareness inside it.

Just as coal under pressure becomes a diamond, so did Tara's soul amplify. And she beheld a vision of herself as a middle-aged woman, and the vision was almost too extraordinary to be borne. For she stood tall, strong, and humble, three light scars down her cheek and the wind from the sea gently lifting her waist-length golden hair. She stood upon the bluff, and the power of her light was far greater than that of any mere lighthouse, for she was safe harbour, and the light of her soul attracted hundreds, thousands, millions of struggling people. She was a candle lit from within, she was serenity, she was transformation. And her eyes, oh her eyes! Her eyes held no wall yet held no secrets. Within them was found the horrors of her father, the blackened pools, the hateful words. Within them was also found peace, and redemption, and forgiveness. And, most astonishing of all, within them was a love, a love far greater than any seen on earth for thousands of years.

She was built of love, every particle of her being vibrated with it, and the soft luminescence of that love shimmered through the air around her, beckoning all others to come and partake.

And the heart of that love, and the source of that transformation, was Willow.

For there, in the heart of the diamond, there pulsed two colours: green and blue. They resided there in bubbling felicity, in domestic bliss, in unending adoration. They were subsumed; they were two, but now they were one. Now it was obvious to all that Tara, and everything that made Tara wonderful, was really a combination of Tara + Willow. A simple mathematical equation. One plus one equals infinity.

And they wandered the world, and they blessed the world, and together they healed the world of its sorrows.

The hollowing, the most dreadful hollowing, the pain-fiend devouring everything inside her, it was all to her good. That's all pain ever was. To her good. Curse it, fight it, rail against it, deaden it with drugs, and it would corrupt her. But embrace it, and love it, and cherish it, and thank the gods for it?

Hollow no longer. For the gluttonous pain-fiend scraped her soul clean without intending to. Caleb may have sent it, that agony, as just another minion of the First, but the gods sanctified it. The choice, the choice had been made. Understanding. And every cubic inch of her hollowed body was filled with love. Yes, there was pain. There could be pain for every minute of her life that remained to her.

And it was good.

And it came to pass that as the sun crested the lip of the world, painting a highway along the rippling waters of the sea, eagerly entering her house, embossing her living room in light and shadow, Tara finally fell asleep.

Tara dreamed.

And a goddess came unto her, as Tara lay on a yellow blanket on a beach on Ash Island. Her head was broken, and oozing cherry droplets that beaded on the fuzzy surface of the blanket. Her neck was gashed open by sharp incisors. There was a sword sticking out of her side and there was a curved knife thrust in her belly.

Tara watched the goddess approach, and the goddess was the embodiment of youth and beauty. She was clad in a gown of shimmering starlight, of wishes, and her face radiated a love deeper than Tara had ever felt. Her eyes were green, the sea green of tranquil waters. Her hair was white, and cascaded down her shoulders like new-fallen snow. Tara knew if she buried her face in that hair that it would smell of sandalwood and roses.

The goddess lifted her hands and a scythe appeared, burnished silver and red. “What part will you play?” goddess-Willow asked.

And Tara knew, for she had read the script, and seen the ending. She knew she lived, for she stood upon the bluff and there were scars on her face. That meant that the goddess, that Willow would save her. That meant that she was worth saving after all. That meant that every reason for the wall was now gone. She would be the tool, the bridge

(the lamb)

and the light of her conviction shone in her eyes. She stood, careful not to jostle the metal sticking out of her body. She approached her love, her only

(my always)

and said, “I will love you. To the ends of the earth I will love you. Until my body fades into dust I will love you. And beyond the great purple curtain, I will love you.”

Willow looked upon Tara, upon her great and vicious wounds, and she despaired. The scythe dropped from her hands and disappeared in a shower of dust. She came upon Tara, and cast her eyes over the sword, the curved knife, the beaded drops like a crown on her head. “The hollowing is almost complete. Once you are empty, be careful of what you choose to put back in,” Willow said softly.

And Tara couldn't look at her. She yearned to fall into Willow's arms, but there was a sword, and a knife.

(Tara, why won't you look at me?)

Because my need of you overpowers me.

So Willow approached, and plucked the sword from her side, and wrenched the knife from her belly, and instead of blood there was a flood of celestial flowers. One step, then two, and Tara was pulled into Willow's arms.

“I am close, Tara,” Willow whispered, and she faded away.

Tara came awake slowly, reliving her conversation with Willow over and over again. The similarities between this dream and the one she had the day Peter Whitney died astonished her. She woke on the couch, her legs and hands still leaden with fatigue, her head still marching to the beat of the manacle bearing torturer, a sting on her neck and in her side. She allowed her eyes to flutter open. Tara finally understood.

Time to get back to work.

to be continued on Dec 14 with Chapter 26: Hush

by **dlline** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 9:11 am

Dibs.... yay!

First... I loved this update. I know I say that a lot, but this one held a special place for me. The shout-out to a mutual dear friend was touching and I found, once again, that your writing is so visceral that I actually had to stop in the middle to go take Advil to deal with the ache in my shoulders from hours of leaf-raking yesterday. It makes me more than a little sad that you have an experience that allows you to write so vividly about pain, but you do it so well that I can't help but be moved.

Second, it would seem as if we've stumbled on a common thread here.

“Doesn't all this nobility hurt?”

I almost laughed out loud because the one thing I heard here, loud and clear was this:

"You need to stop being Agent Maclay, mighty defender of the universe...You aren’t perfect, baby, and you can let me help you.”

Not to talk about myself (well, maybe just a little), but it's always interesting to me all of the ways that pain can manifest itself. While you write of physical pain, I know that Tara's pain comes more from years of self-flagellation, the belief that only from giving herself to death, can she actually justify her existence. She can have everything she wants, but she won't be around to enjoy it. Now there's a paradox.

Loved it. All of it. Can't wait until Friday.

Be well, my friend.

Diane

by **Yours** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 10:24 am

OH. MY. GOD :shock

There are no words... I'm speechless... Well almost.

That update was AMAZING!!!! :bow

That update was very intense.

I could feel everything Tara felt, the pain, the love. I felt it all!

You did an awesome job in portraying Tara's emotions and termoil.
I felt like I was right there with her. That I was in her head!

I don't know what else to write, that was just so amazing!!!!

I can't wait until Friday now... :clap

AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

XX Rachel XX

by **katjetson** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 12:17 pm

Phoenix,

Hello. And ouchies! This chapter was filled with much agony, and the realness of it all pained my little heart into a ball in the corner. Your description of the mind-prisoner Caleb was frightening. Grrrrr! It really ticks me off when he keeps throwing in that "As if I could ever love you" line into Tara's fragile brain. (Not) funny (haha) that Tara wondered at the beginning of your tale if she could die for Willow -- if she could be The Lamb, and here she is; standing tall and weathering the barrage of pain for her girl. The hope you showed us at the end was all beautiful and shimmery, because I can image the love of Willow being poured right into that hollowed shell of Tara. I was really in awe of this update.

Oh, and, er... the gutterhead in me really (really) appreciated the image of Tara in a bikini on the beach. You (and I) certainly have been reading too much Portal.

Wait, one more thing... Your next update is called "Hush". Maybe there'll be some magical hand holding and a soda machine. Actually, strike that last part. Just give me the hands in new places.

by **MiniShrink** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 12:28 pm

You're airing "Hush" on Dec 14th eh? My you're clever. Yeah, um, I also got a feeling that Tara was going over-the-top with martyrdom at one point, and though I thought Althanea should've given more of a reality slap, I guess it wouldn't have done Tara much good in her current state. Anyway, nice work, can't wait for Friday.

by **ceridwen** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 1:38 pm

You know, there are many fics i really love, and when i see they've been updated, i devour the updates, reading like i can't get to the end fast enough to know what happens, but your fic is so well written that i always take a long time to read each update, reading each sentence two or more times, never wanting it to end, i savour them, i can clearly see everything you're describing, and it's a beautiful picture, with all the angst, worry, hurt, jealousy, sorrow, joy, happiness, bliss and every other emotion there is in real life.

This update was magnificent, i really have no words to express just how good it was, i can only wait for the next one. :wave

by db » Tue Dec 11, 2007 5:37 pm

Phoenix.

This update was so… beautiful and tart and anguished. It kind of melted my heart into puddle of despair… and then lifted it up whole again.

*sigh*

I loved it. I am not saying I like Tara in pain, I don’t. It breaks me… but wow. I don’t think I have ever read a more lovely or apt description of the concept of hope rising through despair before. Like, anywhere.

Or will you understand, Tara? Sink into your cells, allow yourself to feel every twinge, every rocket, every tear? When the pain hollows you will you still bless it?

Bravo.

Althanea really is a fairy godmother - and such a good person to be there for Tara. She really arrived just in time, It's nice to know that someone has Tara's back, ya know?

Tara is in such anguish. Oy, :paranoid

I was being a speculating speculator during the part where Tara finally found peace and sleep. I kept thinking all through that last part that Wilow had figured out how to do the mind meld thing and was there saving Tara just like she'd been saved.

God. Tara is *so* f*cking brave,

... and if M8BoS is right, Tara has figured out that she has to take down the wall and let Willow in, or go past the purple haze (so to speak).

Great update!

db

by **wimpy0729** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 8:23 pm

Well, Phoenix, I think you even outdid yourself here. All the imagery and emotions you can conjure with your words simply floors me. There's so much here, I don't know where to begin, except, I see hope. Even through all the pain, Tara realizes she won't hate it or give into it, but embrace it and rise above all the evil that bastard Caleb is throwing at her.

I loved it at the end in the dream her goddess Willow told her about how the hollowing was almost over, and there it was for me again...hope.

Oh please, let Althanea get that demon there soon, cause I'm real curious to see if that's going to work.

Amazingly done,

Wimpy

by **taraslove** » Tue Dec 11, 2007 10:52 pm

Howdy, Phoenix! Okay, I must admit that I was feeling like I was missing something big time. So I went back and reread. All of it. And I completely and totally fell in love with The Lamb all over again. The way you write is so poetic and lyrical. You have just the right amount of refrains and the parentheses that you include, so very very right on the money. Stars.

And then, you add in the depth of Tara's character and the amazing, compelling plot and your fantastic AU. Boy. Your fic is probably one of my very favorite fics of all time.

Now, to say: I think that I missed the whole update when Tara tries to take the rabbits and can't. Jeez. No wonder I was stumbling around so lost like. And what a beautiful, heartbreaking update it was. Totally sucks that I missed it the first go around. *scratches head and curses the heavens' infutility*

Wonderful stuff! Just amazing. Chapter 28 is not so far off, eh? I am oh-so-totally looking forward to that one, let me just tell you. You can't blame a girl, can you?

Oh, and,

katjetson wrote: er... the gutterhead in me really (really) appreciated the image of Tara in a bikini on the beach. You (and I) certainly have been reading too much Portal.

Is there such a thing, do you think, as too much Portal? Cause I could trim it down, if you think I should.

It's funny. Wednesday's update even has a bikini scene in it. Good call, katjetson!

by **Zampsa1975** » Wed Dec 12, 2007 6:09 am

Wow! Excellent update-y goodness... So now Tara finally starts to understand that the key to save Willow & Tara is to love Willow and allow Willow to love Tara...

by **LittleBit** » Wed Dec 12, 2007 6:35 am

I found this chapter to be almost surreal ... but I mean that in a good way. Or perhaps I'm just tired. But it was like I was seeing the story unfold through a tunnel .. but the edges of my vision were all blurred. I connected to the way you described Tara's pain .. you have a gift with words.

Great update ... keep up the good work!

by **LestatDraconus** » Wed Dec 12, 2007 9:34 am

You know, I could of totally dibs'd this but I didn't. And now I regret it.

This story is totally amazing, the waves of pain and agony contrast against the love and sense of awe of this overwhelming love; this fic is just great with it's balance of angst and love.

Will you submit, Tara? Call the pain-fiend your master? Beg for the narcotics to dull it and give you peace? Will you slide down that slippery slope of narcotic haze, and do everything in your power to fog the pain away?

Or will you fight, Tara? Call upon your anger, and wage war with the pain, curse it, and revile it? Descend into depths of rage, and blame the gods for your anguish?

Or will you understand, Tara? Sink into your cells, allow yourself to feel every twinge, every rocket, every tear? When the pain hollows you will you still bless it?

This was my favorite part. Absolutely genius and just great writing.

This almost went into Neon Genesis territory in the sense of exploratory scenes of Tara's psyche. Big stuff; can't wait for the next update!

EDIT: Rofl, I said love like four times. Yeah, me trying to do a great post

by **Zooeys_Bridge** » Wed Dec 12, 2007 2:11 pm

wow.
that was.
so.
intense.

i thought we had seen tara's psyche hard at work, but man it was nothing compared the volume of depth in this update.

i almost felt uncomfortable enough to stop reading. I felt like I was intruding on something so personal, private, and important that it was disrespectful and not at all my place to be privy to this information.

you did it marvelously. It all about the choices we make and how they shape our lives. decisions are very powerful things that alter the very fabric of experiance in our lives and you conveyed that beautifully here. Very subtle and powerful.

Thank you.

by **JustSkipIt** » Wed Dec 12, 2007 7:00 pm

Phoenix – First off, thank you for the dedication of this chapter. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a chapter dedicated to me before so it means a lot.

I can’t get on KB at this time so I’m making my comments from the version you sent me. I hope they are the same or very similar.

Commercials about laundry detergent and anti-depressants flashed on and off and she didn't even budge.

OT: Rachel is bothered so much by the anti-depressant commercials. She always starts yelling at the TV that the people really need to bathe and they will feel much better without the drugs. Tee hee.

… she could see Ethan holding up Willow's file folder, she could see the floor rising to meet her cheek with horrendous force...

Oh this is so well done. You’ve given us two very brief glimpses into what happened with Tara while she was out of the room with Willow. The prior (or 2 before?) part was Willow’s POV so you gave us the hint that Tara fainted while maintaining pov purity and then cut off her communication to great effect. And here just this snippet which is all we really need. So well done.

when a vast roaring shut out all sound. Muffled, confused, Tara witnessed a shattering bolt of light rocket through her skull, and she passed out on the floor.

Ok, I don’t think you just dropped this vast roaring sound. As I see it, it could be Willow-related or Caleb-related. Either way, vast roaring sound are not good nor are shattering bolts of light. Let’s figure out the problem here.

Survivor Ash Island, indeed.

Yippee!

The pain was a sword in her side, a crack in her skull, a rip across her abdomen. It was a living, breathing monster, intent on conquering her body and rearranging it to its will. Would there be anything of her left when the pain was done? Or was it hollowing her, leaving only an empty husk, a shape that looked like a Tara-girl, but was only darkness inside?

Wow and holy shit. I mean… way to describe it. I mean… wow.

But even in her bikini she had a sword sticking out of her side, and a great rip across her abdomen, and a crack in her skull.

Ok, I’m thinking about all this and here’s my question. It’s terrible and horrific and awful that she got Willow’s injuries 1 for 1. Why didn’t she get them 3 for 1? I mean, yes, that would have killed her because 3 cracked skulls, 3 sword wounds, 3 abdomen injuries. 3 Neck ruptures. Very bad stuff. But what kept her from getting them x3.

“What can I do?” she asked.

Tara barely swiveled her head to look at her guest. A single great tear rolled down her cheek, but she couldn't lift her enormously heavy hands to wipe it away. “Nothing,” she whispered. “There is nothing.”

Awful. How awful for Tara to feel this pain and hurt and believe that there is nothing anyone can possibly do.

For only a moment, a mere moment, Tara allowed Althanea to glimpse the horror of her life. In that moment was packed a million frames of violence and incest and hurtful words. The next moment she showed Althanea her desperation to rack up the blood debt, to end a life that was too painful to be borne alone. And the next moment she showed Althanea the moment beneath the Willow tree, the moment when she was the one cradled, and protected, and loved.

In the truth of Willow's mind, it was obvious. Tara was her saviour, but Tara needed to be saved. The only one who could was Willow. Blushing, Tara showed her the kissed blessing, the redhead's fingers upon her cheeks, the words that sealed her fate... (Tara Maclay, I don't even know you. But I love you.)

Well, that ought to do it. I mean Althanea knows it all now doesn’t she?

“I understand.” Althanea lifted her hand and brushed the drying tears from Tara's cheeks, then leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “I'll bring home a demon for you, okay?”

Tara's face fell in concern. She opened her mouth to speak useless platitudes of 'be careful' when Althanea chuckled. “Don't worry, dear. Angel is going to help me. I'll be quite safe.”

Quite safe? I’m not saying that Althanea is in danger but did these people see Helpless? I mean the Watchers Council had a good safe plan about the psychotic vampire and helpless Buffy didn’t they? That went quite well.

For hours she remained in the vise-grip of a master torturer, aching for the sweet oblivion of sleep, but her body screamed and screamed in endless agony. Even crying hurt too much, but she couldn't stop. A steady and slow leakage of tears wet the pillow beneath her.

Well that’s not good.

Was she in love with a figment, then? Was this Willow anything like the one who captivated her in her dream? Is she even remotely like the Willow who enchanted her in her mind, who covered her face with kisses, and made her feel whole? Did that Willow even exist?

That’s an amazingly insightful question. And not that different from one any of us could ask any day. Is this person who I love different from the idea I have in my mind of this person? What are the similarities? What are the differences?

Yet she lived. Whatever force it was that caused her body such agony, Tara still lived. The purple curtain still stood, shielding her from eternity and the joys within. Some part of her, the part that was tired beyond all reason, wished she could just step through that curtain and finally rejoin her mother. Finally be free.

The entire section that precedes this paragraph is just filled with wonderful horrific descriptions of her pain. But what strikes me is that she is alone. The freaking Goddesses assigned her this task, shadowed her life, gave her this gift, sent her in to battle, and now she sits alone in pain all night trying to keep from dying? If Willow is the most powerful witch and Tara next and Althanea here to help, where is one more friend? Where is one more devotee? Why does she have to sit alone?

Tara stood at the crossroads of her life. For a moment she could see all her destinies, each stretching out into eternity. A million permutations of death, along with a million instances of love. Which path would she follow? There was a choice here to be made. There was always a choice. Aranaea may not believe so, and may try to force a human's hand, but in the end there is always choice.

It would be an understatement to say that I find this to the most profound thing you could possibly say here. Choice. It has to be about choice. It is about choice. Everything is about choice. Always.

Or understand? Sink into your cells, allow yourself to feel every twinge, every rocket, every tear?

So she struggled, there in the clear light of dawn. So she gazed down the avenues of her life's choices, and saw them for the truth they bore. So inspired, the ghostly memory of the arms of Maia supporting her, Tara closed all other doors except one.

Understanding.

No fighting. No submitting. Just understanding.

There you go, Tara. You’re on the path now. There is nothing else to do. Nothing to do but to make friends with the pain and suffering. Nothing but to delve into it until you break it apart and take control of it.

I don’t want to keep quoting this entire update but your description of her meditation on the knot within her is inspired. You do a truly wonderful job of expressing to any reader how she will go through this process. What she will find. The beauty of her reality.

And, most astonishing of all, within them was a love, a love far greater than any seen on earth for thousands of years.

She was built of love, and the soft luminescence of that love shimmered through the air around her, beckoning all others to come and partake.

And the heart of that love, and the source of that transformation, was Willow.

For there, in the heart of the diamond, there pulsed two colours: green and blue. They resided there in bubbling felicity, in domestic bliss, in unending adoration. They were subsumed; they were two, but now they were one. Now it was obvious to all that Tara, and everything that made Tara wonderful, was really a combination of Tara + Willow. A simple mathematical equation. One plus one equals infinity.

And they wandered the world, and they blessed the world, and together they healed the world of its sorrows.

Beautiful and a bit scary as well in its messianic nature. I would love to think that the world has no need of a messiah. Or even that if one arrived, we would all agree on it but recent and distant history kind of questions that. That said, two people can do incredible good regardless of an official designation as messiah or not. Hmmm. What’s the plural of messiah? Or is there none by definition? Well, I just looked that up on dictionary.com and it says messias is legitimate… MS Word disagrees, suggesting messiahs. Well off-topic anyway.

The hollowing, the most dreadful hollowing, the pain monster devouring everything inside her, it was all to her good. That's all pain ever was. To her good. Curse it, fight it, rail against it, deaden it with drugs, and it would corrupt her. But embrace it, and love it, and cherish it, and thank the gods for it?

I hardly know what to say to this. Wow and also wow. You so clearly capture the meaning the use of pain and the human experience. Which is not to say that the human experience is pain but that there are certainly elements of pain within that experience and that is how we love, how we grow, how we achieve.

And it came to pass…

Very biblical sounding.

“The hollowing is almost complete. Once you are empty, be careful of what you choose to put back in,” Willow said softly.

And Tara couldn't look at her. She yearned to fall into Willow's arms, but there was a sword, and a knife.

(Tara, why won't you look at me?)

Because my need of you overpowers me.

So Willow approached, and plucked the sword from her side, and wrenched the knife from her belly, and instead of blood there was a flood of celestial flowers. One step, then two, and Tara was pulled into Willow's arms.

“I am close, Tara,” Willow whispered, and she faded away.

Again I feel regenerated and hopeful. It’s the way I felt after Althanea told Tara that Willow could love her and that Willow always looks for ways around problems and rules. I feel like this chapter is Tara’s turning point. She is going to refill her hallowing with love and she is ready to break down the wall. Wow and wow.

I don’t know what else to say about this chapter. It’s profound and exquisite and amazing. You give us all an amazing gift. Thank you.

by **Tara the Phoenix** » Fri Dec 14, 2007 9:33 am

I must admit, kittens, that I'm very gratified by your response to the previous chapter. It wasn't an easy one to write, and I was a little afraid that the spiritual overtones would throw some people off. However, your response has been so positive that I was simply amazed. Thank you so much. Now to feedback response!

dlline
Gulp – sorry I made you have to take an Advil. I suppose this isn't the update you want to chew on when you've got a headache, either. That said, I'm glad I could provoke such a powerful response. The inspiration for this chapter came from one single day I experienced when I was living in Romania and first diagnosed with my disease. I honestly thought I was going to die. Obviously, I didn't. But being in pain that deep and unable to do anything about it (here we can go to the emergency room, but you only go to the hospital in Romania unless you have no other option, and even then I still wouldn't go) it kind of rearranges your mind a little. I'll admit, back then I was still in the angry phase, and remained in the angry phase for most of the ten years since. It's only recently that I've come personally to the understanding phase myself.

I found it very interesting that both our updates had similar overtones at the same time. You're right, pain is a universal issue, and some people really have their inner-martyr going at the same time. Whether physical or emotional, it's so easy to think that you alone have ever felt like this, so how could anyone else possibly help?

You were right on the money with this one...

I know that Tara's pain comes more from years of self-flagellation, the belief that only from giving herself to death, can she actually justify her existence. She can have everything she wants, but she won't be around to enjoy it.

That's what makes her sad.

So glad you enjoyed this update and the short story. I think you'll like what's coming up. Thanks, Diane.

Yours
Ooh, I got a thud! I worked pretty hard to describe Tara's inner turmoil and I'm glad it was effective. I'm also glad that Friday is here and I can put up another update. Thank you for commenting, I appreciate it!

katjenson
I hope your heart has healed somewhat, because it's time for another ritual breaking! Only partly kidding... I think you're going to love what happens next, but you're still going to want to kill me when you read the last line.

I can image the love of Willow being poured right into that hollowed shell of Tara. I was really in awe of this update.

That's exactly what I was looking for. It's a romantic notion that you can be composed of love – now that Tara has been hollowed out, she is a willing receptacle. I wonder what Willow will notice? I'm sure all of my readers have figured out by now that I'm switching point of view with every chapter. Now we get to see what Willow thinks again. I hope you like what's coming up. Thanks for commenting!

MiniShrink
This is your first time commenting, isn't it? I'm a newcomer to Buffy (only introduced in May of this year), so I don't quite get the reference...

You're airing "Hush" on Dec 14th eh? My you're clever.

Call it beginner's luck. Did the original Hush air around this time? I should just fire up my dialup internet connection and find out, but it takes soooo long. I'm glad you're reading, and I appreciate your comments. Tara has been playing the martyr card a little much, but you'll find everything is about to change.

ceridwen
I love reading your comments. They make me feel so good. I was gratified to discover that you savour the updates slowly, taking your time. It reminds me of this friend I have who can eat a chocolate bar in two bites. I'm like, what's with that? I nibble on mine, make it last and last, rolling the taste on my tongue. I'm glad you appreciate my fic like that. Don't ever worry about having constructive things to say: I'm just glad to hear that you like what's going on. I hope you enjoy the next update.

db
Ah, thanks. I'm glad you liked it, and I'm super glad to read your comments. Althanea did arrive just in time, and it's kind of astounding Tara where she is getting all this support lately. Maybe having good friends is just another reward for her doing what she is doing. I'm glad the M8BoS was hot and running when you read it, thinking that Willow managed the mind meld thing. Nope, just a regular dream-time appearance, but one that was sorely needed. I hope you like what's coming up!

wimpy
I'm glad that you saw hope throughout the entire update. When you're in that much pain, a little hope is hard to come by, but it's essential for healing. Without hope, a painful experience can only be sour, can only be hated. With hope, it can be cherished. As for this...

Well, Phoenix, I think you even outdid yourself here.

Aw, shucks. Thank you for that. Don't worry, Althanea and the demon part is coming.

taraslove
Holy cow! You read the whole thing again! It's like 100,000 words! Yes, the part where Tara finds she can't take the rabbits anymore is a little essential, so I'm glad you got it this time around.

The way you write is so poetic and lyrical. You have just the right amount of refrains and the parentheses that you include, so very very right on the money.

Thank you. The actual structure of the story really aids in the reading of it. It's funny that you say it is poetic – I regard myself as a mediocre poet, I'm obviously way too verbose and poetry scares me. But if my prose can be poetic, then I don't have to worry, do I?

Too much Portal? Yeah right. We love every day updates! And Chapter 28 is getting steadily closer, isn't it? Mmm, and then 30... Hmm, interesting that the good stuff is happening in the Willow chapters...

Zampsa
Tara is finally getting it. Althanea introduced the concept of loving Willow to heal herself as well, and she's finally cluing in. It's interesting that you used the word 'key'. You'll find the concept of a key in this next update. Take care and thanks for your comments!

Little Bit
I really liked your description of a tunnel with the edges all blurry. When you're in pain, that's what it feels like, doesn't it? Somehow surreal? I'm glad you got that out of this update. I'll try to keep up the good work, why don't you be the judge of that, with this next chapter? Thanks for reading.

LestatDraconus
I'm glad you're sticking around, even with the non NC-17 stuff. Your patience will be rewarded. And amply.

This story is totally amazing, the waves of pain and agony contrast against the love and sense of awe of this overwhelming love; this fic is just great with it's balance of angst and love.

Ah, thanks for that. I was hoping never to do the too-much-angst thing, a little angst goes a long way, but where would story development be without it? I'll have to admit pure perplexity on the Neon Genesis thing, maybe pm me with an explanation? Thanks for reading.

Zooey's Bridge

i almost felt uncomfortable enough to stop reading. I felt like I was intruding on something so personal, private, and important that it was disrespectful and not at all my place to be privy to this information.

Wow. I made you feel that? Wow.

I'm a big fan of the whole “free will” thing. In subbing at the school, nothing bothers me more than a kid saying someone else “made” him feel a certain way. Though they're only in grade 4, I want to shake them and say, take some responsibility for your feelings! At least you guys get it. Thanks for reading.

JustSkipIt
I'm glad you liked the new and improved version. You also deserved the dedication, I hope it made your day! I had just finished reading Survivor Ash Island, so it made sense to me to put it in.

It’s terrible and horrific and awful that she got Willow’s injuries 1 for 1. Why didn’t she get them 3 for 1? I mean, yes, that would have killed her because 3 cracked skulls, 3 sword wounds, 3 abdomen injuries. 3 Neck ruptures. Very bad stuff. But what kept her from getting them x3.

Okay. I'm baffled. Why would she have them three times as bad? Because of the goddesses? I'm trying to figure out where I mentioned three some time before. Pm or email if you're interested in pursuing this.

Quite safe? I’m not saying that Althanea is in danger but did these people see Helpless?

LOL. The Watcher's Council definitely has a lot to answer for, don't they? Hopefully with Angel's help, and the help of all his buddies, the demon capture will go well. But this is a BtVS fic. How often do things go well? (hehe.) Wait and see!

“And they wandered the world, and they blessed the world, and together they healed the world of its sorrows.”That said, two people can do incredible good regardless of an official designation as messiah or not.

While it's true that I don't intend for this to be a prophecy of things to come, merely an extension of the dreamy state Tara was in, I do believe that a single person can do a whole lotta good in the world. Just one person. You yourself have positively affected the lives of those around you. You don't need to be a messiah to do good works.

Thanks for your comments, and for supporting me throughout this endeavor. Enjoy the next update! (Enjoy it, I say!)

Well, that's everybody. Next update coming very soon.
Phoenix

by **Tara the Phoenix** » Fri Dec 14, 2007 9:37 am

Chapter 26
Hush

To the anguished mind of Willow Rosenberg, it seemed that the night would never end. She woke every few hours, listened to the steady hissing and beeping of her machines, saw the glow of the hall-lights, and thought of Tara. If sleep continued to evade her, she took a moment to do a little more healing on her legs, but that exercise didn't take long to exhaust her. After being in a coma for two weeks she simply didn't have the reserves she was used to.

She was awake when the glow of the daystar began to illuminate her room. It would take a long time for the sun to shine fully on the exquisite courtyard, so she entertained herself by watching the clouds change colour. First they were bathed in purple, like a great curtain, or a veil. Then faint swatches of pink and yellow stained the underbellies of the clouds, and finally the sky faded from indigo to cerulean. Willow wondered if the colour was the exact shade of her nurse's eyes.

Tara. Every thought led back to her and Willow certainly didn't understand why. In the few days since she had awakened, Tara had been her support system, exuding a sense of familiarity and friendship that surprised the young witch. Tara made her nervous. She had been friends with girls before, obviously. Buffy had been her best friend for years. They would sometimes hold hands when walking down the streets, they had even slept in the same bed before. But Buffy never made her insides feel like this.

When she saw Tara it was like her entire brain shut down, reducing her to animal noises and general dim-wittedness. She was surprised to realize just how much Tara's good opinion meant to her, and she reined in her usually unbridled tongue just so she could sound smarter to her nurse. She may have an IQ of a genius, but there was something about Tara, the way that Tara would look at her, that would derail any of her carefully prepared sentences. The brown-haired woman intrigued her and made her feel decidedly odd. It wasn't a bad sensation; quite the contrary, Willow was quite sure that she could grow addicted to whatever feeling it was.

It wasn't until yesterday she discovered just how much she owed Tara. To think that this unknown woman had taken in a complete stranger, had run amok of demons and vampires, had done muscle-tearing healing, and still managed to make Willow feel like the most precious thing on earth. Maybe that was this unknown sensation, this feeling of being the absolute focus of another person. In the early days Oz had made her feel a little like that. It was a heady, drunken feeling, and she nursed its eventual disappointments just like a hangover. Sure, it was lovely at the time, but as years passed the relationship became confusing, and hurty, and definitely not worth it.

Willow would do anything to make Tara smile, for whenever Tara smiled it seemed that the whole world was at peace, her tortured soul with it. When Tara smiled Willow could forget about Hellmouths and vampires and the burden of being alone. When Tara smiled it was like she held Willow in the palm of her hand, a diamond of infinite worth, cherished, protected. But Tara was far from smiling now. Willow had eavesdropped, and had discovered something ominous, and she couldn't even reveal her knowledge to anyone else without being branded a spy. Rabbits. Demons. Fainting.

She bent her considerable intellect to the task of breaking down that conversation. First, Tara is ill. Second, she can't take the rabbits anymore. Willow immediately tossed out the idea of traveling with rabbits somewhere, that obviously wasn't it. Willow thought back to the time when she resurrected Buffy, how she had to take the life of a deer. Was it something similar? Magic was ripe in blood, maybe there was something about a rabbits blood that aided Tara, that didn't work now.

(She can't take the rabbits any more)

What had changed? She used to be able to take the rabbits, however that was. Now she couldn't. Was this yet another thing that was Willow's fault? The very idea frightened Willow. Was it more of Caleb's doing?

As the sun rose, as day began to break over the walls of the hospice, Willow contained her mounting anxiety the best she could. Would Tara come? Could Tara come? What would she do if Tara wasn't coming? April was nice enough, and she surely knew her job very well, but that at least put to rest the niggling worry that Tara was being only a nurse to Willow. April didn't speckle her comments with endearments, she didn't continually touch Willow on the hand, on the leg, or on her feet. She smiled, but it wasn't the same soul-quirking and infectious smile that Tara gave.

April didn't make Willow feel like the center of the universe. Tara did.

Willow was glad that she at least reasoned that out. Willow was a great follower of logic; which may have surprised some of her fellow Wiccans. They all thought magic was nothing more than manipulation of the natural order of things but Willow was a scientist. All magic worked within the laws of science, and the laws of logic naturally followed. All she had to do to prove her theory that Tara was not merely a nurse to her was to watch Tara in contact with another patient. That would be unlikely here; Tara had already explained how the hospice worked, with one-on-one patient/nurse interactions. She could try to scry on Tara, to get a glimpse of what the girl was like when she wasn't at work, but the thought made Willow grimace. That would be a misuse of magic if there ever was one.

No, she'd just have to trust her instincts. And after seven years of fighting the most cunning adversaries imaginable, Willow had developed a strong set of instincts. She was a little tightly wound, too, but at least she had instincts.

It was the wall that did it. That and the words 'Oh, my love,' that Tara had intoned at start of shift yesterday, the words Tara thought that Willow didn't hear. Willow heard them all right; she had been playing possum when her nurse came in, just to see what would happen. The wall, however, Tara would have needed no wall unless there was something to hide. Because the wall was there, Willow knew there was a secret as well. And as fantastic and improbable as it seemed, as unworthy as it made her feel, Willow thought she knew what the secret was.

Tara was in love with her.

Willow had no idea how or why such love came about, but as she thought on it, the morning light seeping into her room, the more it made sense to her. Her flash of insight yesterday when Dr. Daniels came in, she had known he was in love with Tara but that she didn't return that love. Even Althanea had hinted to it; her vituperation had stung Willow and forced her to think the whole thing through.

(Just what does Tara mean to you, Willow?)

Althanea didn't make Willow angry, she had merely confirmed Willow's hypothesis that she was more than a mere patient, a little project, a tiny blip to Tara. With that one question, Willow's world had opened up to the possibility of Tara loving her. Willow wondered if Althanea really knew just how effective an interrogator she was. Willow, after seven years of demon-hunting, mentally took notes on Althanea's style, committing it to memory, vowing to find an opportunity to use it herself.

The clock ticked closer to eight o'clock and Willow watched it anxiously. At times it almost seemed to slow down, stop altogether, go backwards even! She wasn't even sure that it would be Tara coming today... it was Friday after all, Tara was sick

(She had a fainting spell. Do you know how ill she is?)

and she may not be coming in to work today, what with the weekend so close and all. The mere thought caused Willow's throat to tighten. She spent the next few minutes pondering that throat closure, the beating of her heart, the sweatiness of her palms.

I'm straight.

Logic, Rosenberg. You say you're straight, but what is this feeling in your chest? Why does your heart ache so at the mere thought of this woman? Why do you continually stare at her breasts, at her lips? What is this warmth between your legs when you wonder what it would be like to press your lips against hers? Why is she so familiar to you?

(I think I would die for her.)

When Willow said it, she knew it was true. There was something about Tara, something soft and vulnerable that Tara tried so hard to hide behind a wall of professional detachment. Willow had never felt so strongly about someone so fast before, not even Buffy. Buffy had confused her in the beginning, with overtures of friendship with Willow the geek that Willow simply didn't understand. Her relationship with Buffy turned out to be one of the most rewarding of her life. Now another girl had entered, and Willow was even more confused than before. What was there in Willow Rosenberg that had attracted these beautiful, self-assured women? Would this relationship be even more spectacular than the one she shared with Buffy? Would there, could there, be love?

And would eight o'clock never come?

Willow looked out into the courtyard again. What did Tara mean to her? Time for an experiment, Rosenberg, to prove that hypothesis. You believe Tara is in love with you? Well today, just today, you'll watch. Watch Tara, watch the wall in her eyes, watch every move she makes, listen to every sound that comes out of her mouth, feel every shiver that comes across your spine when she trails her fingers over you. Watch, Willow.

Watch and learn.

Willow watched the clock. At two minutes past eight, she heard footsteps down the hall and cursed herself for not memorizing Tara's stride yet. It could be anyone, it could be April, John, or Dr. Daniels himself. It could be the lady with the breakfast tray and the little paper cup of pills. It could be the cleaning lady.

It could be Tara.

And Tara it was.

Tara stood in the doorway of Willow's room and looked in, her hand on the doorframe. Her hair was pulled back in her perennial ponytail, and the three slashes down her face looked angry. Her face was pale, with two spots of colour high on her cheeks, a hint of darkness under her eyes. She was wearing the most adorable scrubs Willow had ever seen, with dancing teddy bears on them. She stood a long time in that doorway, and they looked at each other.

Note that in your experiment, Rosenberg. Note how your heart soared when she walked in.

Tara walked in slowly, yet deliberately; she seemed to have lost the shuffle she was using yesterday. Neither of them had yet spoken, neither of their eyes turned away from each other. Each step Tara took to get to her bedside Willow's heart ached greater and greater. There was something different about Tara, something essential. What happened to the woman yesterday who could not even look at her?

At first Willow thought it was some trick of the light in the room, deflecting somehow off the waterfall in the courtyard, passing through the double-thick panes of glass. Tara was glowing. The sight of her took Willow's breath away, and she closed her eyes momentarily to get a grip. But there, even through the pinkness of her eyelids she could see Tara shine with an ethereal glow. The reading of aura's was a talent that Willow had never really been blessed with, but looking at Tara Willow knew that even the most mundane of eyes could surely see Tara glow, her eight chakra connected with the infinite love of the universe, sending waves of compassion in her wake.

Tara was drawing closer, so Willow opened her eyes. It was not a long space by any means, the distance between the door and her bed, but Willow was captured by time, and it seemed that she watched Tara approach for hours. Still no words. Willow's eyes were fixated on the eyes of her nurse, and they were indeed the most glorious cerulean blue, the blue of mountain lakes, the blue of bellflowers. There was a tightness around them, a most careful positioning, and Willow instantly knew that her nurse was in considerable pain.

Finally her nurse was hovering merely a foot away, standing by the bed where Willow lay, half-reclining at her ease. She felt anything but ease. Her emotions were roiling inside her, a dozen of them battling for supremacy in this most surreal of moments. She was only peripherally aware of this monumental battle inside her own skull, as she was busy drowning in the depths of Tara's eyes.

Logic, Rosenberg. Ordinary people don't 'drown' in other people's eyes. That's for Hallmark movies of the week and dime store romances.

Shut up, Rosenberg.

Tara still had not taken her eyes off of Willow. Yesterday Willow had accused this woman of hiding secrets, of keeping tales. No such illusions remained. Willow stared straight into the eyes of Tara Maclay and saw everything. Willow saw aching fatigue and mental exhaustion. She saw vast amounts of pain, clenching and tearing agonies. She saw darkness, a great black wall of adamant where Caleb was held prisoner against his will. She saw courage, determination, and resilience.

Willow saw love.

And the pureness of it, the intensity of it caused her to quake and tremble. She could see her whole life pass through the blue of Tara's eyes. And where she might have been frightened, before, preoccupied with needless concern, Willow now felt only fulfillment. Tara had thrust a key into a lock in her mind.

I was a prisoner.

What else happened in my mind?

They still had not spoken any words.

Peace enveloped them in a blanket composed of heaven-threads. The lady came in with Willow's breakfast and Tara fed it to Willow without any hesitation. Willow gladly let her. Tara filled a basin with warm water and lathered shampoo into Willow's hair which smelt delightfully of sandalwood and roses. Tara's fingers lovingly caressed every inch of Willow's skull, rubbing, probing, amplifying the ache that was steadily growing in Willow's chest.

Who was the author of this passion? What poet composed this symphony of neurons, this crescendo of glorious heartache? The pressure mounted inside her until every particle of her ached for some sort of release. Unable to voice her feelings, and definitely unable to act upon them, Willow merely stared at Tara, memorizing the configuration of her nose, the exact placement of her mouth, the dimples on her cheeks.

How's the experiment coming, Rosenberg?

Tara put away the bathing things and combed Willow's hair, and Willow could feel the strands of her hair being combed, then pulled through Tara's fingers, again and again. That necessary ministration now complete, Tara moved to Willow's other side. She pulled over a stainless steel cart and sat down. First Tara caressed her hand, and ran the tips of her sensuous fingers over the abrasions on Willow's knuckles. She then looked at Willow, and her smile was like the sun rising.

Willow was sure her heart faltered in that moment. It surrendered. And when it resumed ticking, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again. There was no remorse for her loss of innocence, only excitement. What wonders would Tara show her?

For their music they had the beeping of machines, and Tara's talented hands almost danced as they competently withdrew the IV that had been chaining Willow to her bed for weeks. Pressing a wad of gauze to the tiny injury, Willow watched as Tara put tape over it, and she watched as Tara lifted her hand to her lips, and she watched as Tara's lips pressed down gently on her abraded knuckles.

Now this wasn't the first time that Tara's lips had come in contact with her skin. Just yesterday as Tara was leaving Willow with Althanea, Tara kissed her on the cheek. Willow reflected on that brief kiss and its accompanying warmth again and again throughout the long night. Now, with Tara's wall down, this brief feathery kiss on her knuckles didn't merely surprise her, it also sent a cascade of warmth down her whole body, and her skin swept into goosebumps.

Tara peered at her over her taped hand and her eyes were dancing in mirth.

Cheeky miss. Willow vowed to get even with her for that one.

Hmm. Getting even. What a delightful prospect.

Tara's glow continued to sustain Willow as the morning progressed. She stood on her feet for the first time, leaning heavily on Tara for support. Resting frequently, Willow triumphed by finally walking (if you could call it walking) to the bathroom. Far better than a bedpan. Even as she tottered forth, Willow knew it was only because of Tara and Althanea. Tara for most of her healed body, Althanea for her legs. Tara still wordlessly urged her to do three short bouts of physical therapy, and Willow was exhausted and in pain when they were finished. In the resting times between the careful manipulation of her limbs, Tara sat next to Willow and held her hand. Neither of them said a word.

And Willow couldn't help but remember the only other day in her whole life when she had been this quiet. It wasn't really her choice. A bunch of fairy tale demons had stolen everyone's voices, and then the hearts of seven select sacrificial victims. Willow pondered the white magic of this day compared with the black magic of that one. Willow had managed to keep her heart intact last time. This time, no such luck. Far better for Tara to have her heart than some nameless beast.

But whatever power had been sustaining Tara in the morning had started to give way as the afternoon progressed. Willow could see Tara's difficulty getting up from the chair in which she sat. She could see how carefully Tara sat down. The shuffle reappeared as Tara didn't have the strength to lift her feet from the floor. Tara's fingers strayed to her temples for absent rubbing when she thought Willow wasn't looking.

Willow was always looking. There wasn't a single moment during that entire day when she voluntarily took her eyes off her nurse. Her eyes open, her mouth shut, Willow watched Tara struggle through the rest of that great and terrible day.

And as the hours passed, Willow's torment grew. The pain her nurse was in was unacceptable. Willow was so used to getting her own way, for finding an answer to even the most impossible riddles that this problem frustrated her to no end. Several times during the day Willow had contact with Tara's skin, mostly through hand-holding, and every time Willow attempted to call upon the energies of the universe to heal her friend. And every time, the answer was no. Every time she tried, she encountered a seamless and vast great black wall.

Only a friend, Willow?

(Just what does Tara mean to you, Willow?)

It was almost six o'clock. Tara would be leaving soon, and Willow wouldn't see her for the entire weekend. The prospect of two whole days without Tara unnerved her. Not that she begrudged Tara's time off, she knew how needed it was, it was just... complicated.

(Why complicated, Will?)

She could almost see Buffy ask the question. It was as if her best friend was sitting on the corner of her bed, still dressed in her Slayer duds. Would Buffy understand the vast change, the revolution in her heart, the castle of her past under siege? Her heart's total surrender? Why complicated?

Because of Tara.

Because of the whisper of conversation she shouldn't have heard. Because of rabbits and demons.But more than that, so much more. Because the only time she felt alive was when Tara was with her.

Logic, Rosenberg. Why does Tara make you feel this way?

I DON'T KNOW!

Could Willow love a woman? With anyone else, Willow would have said no. She took too much comfort in the familiar; needed the familiar relationships in a world where almost every week there was a new challenge to overcome. But now, with all her friends gone, the unfamiliar loomed over her, and it was frightening, but only until she thought of Tara. With Tara at her side, Willow believed she could face those unending years without the Scoobies. With Tara at her side, Willow could continue to fight the forces of darkness. With Tara at her side, Willow could feel worthy of love, and could share that love with the purest soul she had ever encountered.

It wasn't that Tara was a woman. It wasn't that Willow may be gay. It was simply that Tara completed her, filled in the little spaces of her heart and soul. Love knows nothing of gender. Straight or gay, love is love.

Logic, Rosenberg. Has anyone, anyone at all, ever made you feel like this? Xander, when you were first crushing on him the same time as he was crushing on Buffy? Oz, when he couldn't take his eyes off you in that silly Eskimo suit? Use your head, Rosenberg.

And be honest.

And Willow looked at Tara. Tara who was luminous even when washing her hands. Who shone like a pillar even when looking out the window. Who radiated compassion and love like the sun. Tara who loved her. Against all odds, Tara loved her.

How could she let Tara go without saying something? Willow didn't want to speak, the hush was magical, and entombed them as if they were under the umbrella of a tree. But how to let her nurse know how she felt, how worried she was at their impending separation of only a few days? By and large, Willow wasn't a student of subtlety. She could be rather blunt and tactless on occasion. Her mouth usually got her into trouble, and yes, sometimes out of trouble, too.

One minute, Rosenberg. Decide now.

Tara was gazing at her. Willow's heart was furiously pounding. Her skin ached all over, every muscle in her body cried for a single touch, a single caress. Her experiment had boiled down to this one moment. She almost felt faint with desire, with the arousal that began as a single hard nub between her legs and had now spread to shake her extremities. Willow honestly believed she would die, absolutely die if Tara didn't touch her now.

Where has this feeling been all your life, Willow? Why has it taken more than twenty years to feel it? Where was it when you were with Xander, when you were with Oz?

Tara was gazing at her, and her heart was in her eyes. Willow could see the immensity of it, could see the ethereal glow that shimmered on her like a mirage. Quite deliberately, Willow forced herself to think of Xander as a romantic interest. She shuddered, and chucked him out the window. Then she forced herself to think of Oz, and she stood up the phantom Oz next to the glowing Tara and compared the two.

(You deserve so much more than I can give you)

And the key Tara thrust into the lock in her mind, it turned.

Tara was gazing at her, and Willow's eyes blurred in tears. This is the moment. You've been waiting your whole life for this. The experiment is over, Willow. You're in real life now.

She stilled the impulse to wipe the tears away; she left her hands at her sides as the tears began to roll ponderously down her cheeks.

Come to me, Tara.

And Tara's face was anguished, her eyes melted, and she took a step towards Willow, then two.

TBC on December 18 with Chapter 27: Ethics
Feedback, anyone?

Phoenix

by **dlline** » Fri Dec 14, 2007 10:40 am

Wow! Hush is right!

Well done, my friend. I can see why you were so stoked about it. You've managed to create an internal monologue of absolutely epic proportions here. I know that can be challenging to pull off without it evoking a sense of "get on with in" in a reader, but you held on to it beautifully. There were many Willow-esque quotes in this, and I won't go back and try to grab all of them, but you have a great handle on her internal musings.

I must admit to a musing or two myself very similar to Willow's the first time I found myself attracted to another girl at the tender age of 14. Was is right or was it wrong was never a question I asked myself, but simply what did it mean. I think that's what I liked best about it was that you've managed to convey Willow's potential coming out to herself as a single entity, standing alone in her head, forcing her to think about what it all means. Thank you for that, which, to me, holds the promise that we'll be able to get past the coming out angst fairly quickly. I like stories like that, where Willow simply figures out that it means that she's in love, and the rest of the world be damned.

Again, well done. I'm a little anxious regarding the next post just because of its title, but I'll just sit back and let you take me there. Thank you.

Diane

by **LestatDraconus** » Fri Dec 14, 2007 11:14 am

Whoa. This absolutely blew my mind. I'll pm you in a sec with an overview on Neon Genesis but I'll say this now: this was like you pulled the most mind intensive bits of that show and put it in Willow.

With her having to ask herself questions concerning her feelings and bracketed things like (Why complicated, Will?), I'm amazed you haven't seen the show.

I really, REALLY, liked this update. Can't wait for more.

Ash

by **MiniShrink** » Fri Dec 14, 2007 1:22 pm

Yeah, Hush originally aired Dec 14 1999, when I was 7 and unaware of BtVS. (Only started watching in August 2006) My first time commenting, yeah. I'm usually too lazy to say anything, but the cleverness (or, well, coincidence as you say) needed commenting on. I thought this last update was a little unclear - what was actually happening? Physically taking place? Willow and Tara were both coming to their senses, but I just mean that if the scene was going to be on TV with a voiceover, what would we see? I didn't get that. I think you're sometimes a little too wordy, like sometimes you use metaphors where a short sentence would be just as effective, if not more.

However, I do really love this Willow you've made. You haven't made her irritatingly self-pitying, instead making a believable Willow riddled with insecurities. Like I said, I think Tara's a little over-the-top with the martyrdom, but Willow is spot on.

The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe Willow & Tara Forever

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