FIC: In Another Life (7/22) - BtVS/Numb3rs
Title: In Another Life (7/22+Epilogue)
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~36,000 (as of Dec 4, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 7
Willow paced anxiously along the pavement across from Don's apartment, chewing nervously on her lip as she checked her watch. The minute hand had barely moved since the last check, and Willow glared at it in personal affront. She was meeting Don tonight, the first time since That Night, and she was nervous. Don had asked her to dinner, and this time they both knew it was Dinner-with-a-capital-D-as-in-date. She'd been a complete wreck after fleeing from Don's apartment, forgetting about her weekly lunch with Milo, who had shown up and dragged the whole story out of her. She'd finally left for work, hoping to keep busy enough to keep her mind off of Don and the super-huge disaster that was the night before.
Instead, he'd shown up at the coffee shop near the end of her shift, and as much as she didn't want to have that conversation with him, having it in front of co-workers and regular customers was so much worse. It had been just as awkward and distressing as she'd imagined it would be, right up until Don had asked her if she'd ever thought about them being more than just friends.
Willow hadn't been able to look him in the eye, which he had apparently taken as a 'yes', because the next thing she knew he was kissing her. It had been ten times better than the brief flashes of memory she retained from their drunken sex, so much that it had taken her a moment to realize Don had pulled away and was talking to her.
"If you don't think we could make something more out of this, tell me now," he'd said, and Willow just nodded.
She remembered he'd looked confused, unsure of what she was agreeing too, and that look of uncertainty on his face had only endeared him to her more.
"I want more," she'd managed to say, and even now remembered the loud thumping of her heart in her chest.
His "Me, too" had made her smile.
Before he'd left the coffee shop - leaving Willow to the mercy of her co-worker Cherry and the few regulars who knew her - he'd invited her over to his place for dinner.
So here she was, pacing along the sidewalk just down the street from his apartment building, questioning everything. Would he have changed his mind since then? Was he reconsidering this whole 'couple' thing they seemed to be heading towards? Should she be reconsidering this whole couple thing? What if there wasn't anything there after all? What if they fizzled out in six months and she was without Don in her life? What if this was just a pity date? Or what if he decided he couldn't handle dating someone with no memory beyond the last four years?
Willow stopped working herself into a frenzy, reminding herself that Don knew and accepted all the amnesia-related issues she came with. They'd spent enough time talking about it when they first became friends, and she'd actually come to accept the reality that her memories were probably gone forever. Don had helped her with that, though she didn't think he realized what his total acceptance had done.
Stopping abruptly, Willow forced herself to turn towards Don's apartment. Since waking up in the hospital four years ago, she hadn't let anyone or anything turn her away from something she wanted, and she wouldn't let her own insecurities push her away from what looked like a promising relationship with someone she liked more than she'd ever admitted to herself. She'd created a life for herself out of the emptiness that was her mind, and this was just another step.
With a determined nod and a resolved look on her face, Willow headed towards Don's apartment, not caring that she was early. If she held off any longer, she might not have the courage to actually knock on the door.
Pushing the lobby buzzer for his apartment, Willow tried not to notice how much her hand was shaking.
"Hi. It's-it's me," she said into the microphone when he answered.
"Come on up," came his voice through the intercom as a buzz sounded behind her. Turning, Willow forced her limbs to move smoothly despite the rapid pulsing of blood through her veins.
Following the familiar path through the building to the apartment she'd been to dozens of times in the past, Willow paused outside his apartment, hand raised to knock.
Her last thought before rapping on the door was, 'I hope he didn't decide to cook'.
~!~
Pulling the glasses down from the shelf, Don told himself to stop being stupid and act like this was any other dinner with a woman. It hadn't worked the first fifty times he'd said it, and it wasn't working now, not that Don was really surprised. This wasn't just another dinner, and Willow wasn't just another woman. As hokey as it sounded, their entire relationship rested on how tonight went. If it went badly - really badly - then there was a good chance he would lose her forever. Not that he really thought a single bad dinner could make her start hating him, but he knew the path they'd start down. They would decide that they were better as friends than as a couple, but the knowledge would be there between them from then on. They would slowly start to avoid each other, until one day they realized they hadn't spoken in years.
Don desperately didn't want that. He'd thought about his choices long and hard ever since waking up to an empty bed and a closing door. He'd had a moment of panic where he was sure he would never see her again after their drunken sex, and that hadn't sat well with him. The hangover had been the least of his problems. His mind was determined to replay every single detail from that night in glorious technicolour, complete with surround sound.
In a way, that was what had pushed him towards this course of action. They had chemistry, and it was more than as just friends. That night was going to live on in his mind for years to come.
Looking over the setup he'd put together, Don was pleased with what he'd managed to accomplish. It didn't look overly cheesy like in movies or on TV, but it was intimate and friendly. His apartment didn't have much room, but he did have space for a small table and chairs, off to the side of the living room. Most of the other floor plans in his building had an expanded kitchen that took up that small area, but Don had taken the apartment for that specific reason. He didn't cook - didn't even try anymore - so a tiny kitchen wasn't much of a hardship.
A knock at the door grabbed his attention. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
~!~
Hours later, Don was wondering why he'd been so nervous. Dinner had been nice, once Don assured her it was from a nearby restaurant and not any sudden desires of his to cook. He'd smiled when she tentatively sniffed the wine-looking liquid in her glass, and then blushed when she realized it was juice. After a few hesitant starts, they'd fallen back into comfortable conversation as they ate. Every now and then he'd sneak a peek at her, and was constantly amazed that this woman was in his life.
Then he'd have a moment of realization, where he knew that if he made the effort, she would be in his life for much, much longer. And she was definitely worth the effort.
"You've seen that movie a hundred times," he complained as she chose a well-worn favourite, but they both knew it was only for show.
“It's good,” she protested as he knew she would.
“It's a chick flick,” Don replied, taking his place on the couch as she finished setting up the movie.
“You like the sword fights,” she accused, and Don had to agree with that. It's what had made the movie enjoyable the first ten times, and bearable the next twenty.
Don watched as she moved to the couch to take her usual seat, then hesitated. They hadn't had a problem with personal space since the very start of their friendship when they were just getting comfortable with each other, yet it appeared that Willow was having some issues. He saw her biting her lip, looking between the space next to him, and the space at the end of the couch, trying to decide which to go for. Don settled back into the cushions, one arm flung up along the back.
Willow looked at him questioningly, and Don tried desperately to keep his inner amusement off his face. Don figured they'd passed the 'touching means I like them' stage, but it was interesting to see Willow try to handle it.
Apparently he hadn't kept his amusement as hidden as he'd hoped, because Willow glared at him indignantly, causing him to smile. She gave a little huff of irritation before taking her customary place next to him, resting in the curve of his arm. Don just settled in closer and watched the movie.
Just like any other time, she squeezed his hand during the cliff-climbing scene, hid her face in his shoulder at the fire swamp and closed her eyes when it was time for the weird life-sucking water machine. And despite having seen the movie dozens of times, she still gave a happy little sigh when the couple kissed at the end.
The credits had barely started rolling when he shut it off, turning to the woman who had curled up next to him sometime during the first sword fight. She looked up at him nervously, biting her lip as she tried to figure out what to do next.
“Well, I shou-” Don didn't let her finish, giving in to his desire to kiss her. He'd been good all night, wanting her to feel comfortable and not pressured, but he needed to at least kiss her and relive the electricity he remembered from that first night.
It didn't take long for Willow to get involved, hands clutching at his back as he deepened the kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he tilted her head to lock their lips together. He was barely breathing, so intent on her lips, not wanting to break away for even a second.
He heard a small whimper emerge from her throat, then one of her hands was on his head, pulling him in closer. Blood rushed away from his brain in that instant, and before he realized what he was doing, he had her pushed into the couch cushions. Willow didn't really seem to mind as she managed to work a leg out from under him, wrapping it around his hip and pulling him in closer.
Don finally broke away from her lips, only to place sucking kisses along her throat and collar bone, nudging the edge of her shirt out of the way. He could feel her ragged breathing through the vibrations in her neck, every breath pushing her breasts firmly against his chest.
Moving back towards her ear, Don whispered, “Stay with me tonight.”
For a minute he didn't think she would answer, and he wondered if he was going too fast, but 'we can just cuddle' was not a phrase he was willing to introduce into his vocabulary.
Raising his head, Don looked into her wide, green eyes, waiting for her to say something. Anything.
“Okay.”
Don smile and kissed her again.
End Part 7
Part 8
Author: lyl_devil
Rating: PG-15
Fandom: BtVS, Numb3rs
Pairing: Willow/Don
Beta: strangevisitor7 & kallie_kat
Words: ~36,000 (as of Dec 4, 2008)
Disclaimer: I don’t own either show. I just like to play in their sandboxes.
Summary: Every action has a consequence and every deal comes with a price. Willow’s life is wiped clean, so she makes a new one for herself in LA.
Master Post
Note: I don’t claim to know anything about magic, medicine or the FBI - what I didn’t pick up from tv and books, I made up.
~!~
Part 7
Willow paced anxiously along the pavement across from Don's apartment, chewing nervously on her lip as she checked her watch. The minute hand had barely moved since the last check, and Willow glared at it in personal affront. She was meeting Don tonight, the first time since That Night, and she was nervous. Don had asked her to dinner, and this time they both knew it was Dinner-with-a-capital-D-as-in-date. She'd been a complete wreck after fleeing from Don's apartment, forgetting about her weekly lunch with Milo, who had shown up and dragged the whole story out of her. She'd finally left for work, hoping to keep busy enough to keep her mind off of Don and the super-huge disaster that was the night before.
Instead, he'd shown up at the coffee shop near the end of her shift, and as much as she didn't want to have that conversation with him, having it in front of co-workers and regular customers was so much worse. It had been just as awkward and distressing as she'd imagined it would be, right up until Don had asked her if she'd ever thought about them being more than just friends.
Willow hadn't been able to look him in the eye, which he had apparently taken as a 'yes', because the next thing she knew he was kissing her. It had been ten times better than the brief flashes of memory she retained from their drunken sex, so much that it had taken her a moment to realize Don had pulled away and was talking to her.
"If you don't think we could make something more out of this, tell me now," he'd said, and Willow just nodded.
She remembered he'd looked confused, unsure of what she was agreeing too, and that look of uncertainty on his face had only endeared him to her more.
"I want more," she'd managed to say, and even now remembered the loud thumping of her heart in her chest.
His "Me, too" had made her smile.
Before he'd left the coffee shop - leaving Willow to the mercy of her co-worker Cherry and the few regulars who knew her - he'd invited her over to his place for dinner.
So here she was, pacing along the sidewalk just down the street from his apartment building, questioning everything. Would he have changed his mind since then? Was he reconsidering this whole 'couple' thing they seemed to be heading towards? Should she be reconsidering this whole couple thing? What if there wasn't anything there after all? What if they fizzled out in six months and she was without Don in her life? What if this was just a pity date? Or what if he decided he couldn't handle dating someone with no memory beyond the last four years?
Willow stopped working herself into a frenzy, reminding herself that Don knew and accepted all the amnesia-related issues she came with. They'd spent enough time talking about it when they first became friends, and she'd actually come to accept the reality that her memories were probably gone forever. Don had helped her with that, though she didn't think he realized what his total acceptance had done.
Stopping abruptly, Willow forced herself to turn towards Don's apartment. Since waking up in the hospital four years ago, she hadn't let anyone or anything turn her away from something she wanted, and she wouldn't let her own insecurities push her away from what looked like a promising relationship with someone she liked more than she'd ever admitted to herself. She'd created a life for herself out of the emptiness that was her mind, and this was just another step.
With a determined nod and a resolved look on her face, Willow headed towards Don's apartment, not caring that she was early. If she held off any longer, she might not have the courage to actually knock on the door.
Pushing the lobby buzzer for his apartment, Willow tried not to notice how much her hand was shaking.
"Hi. It's-it's me," she said into the microphone when he answered.
"Come on up," came his voice through the intercom as a buzz sounded behind her. Turning, Willow forced her limbs to move smoothly despite the rapid pulsing of blood through her veins.
Following the familiar path through the building to the apartment she'd been to dozens of times in the past, Willow paused outside his apartment, hand raised to knock.
Her last thought before rapping on the door was, 'I hope he didn't decide to cook'.
~!~
Pulling the glasses down from the shelf, Don told himself to stop being stupid and act like this was any other dinner with a woman. It hadn't worked the first fifty times he'd said it, and it wasn't working now, not that Don was really surprised. This wasn't just another dinner, and Willow wasn't just another woman. As hokey as it sounded, their entire relationship rested on how tonight went. If it went badly - really badly - then there was a good chance he would lose her forever. Not that he really thought a single bad dinner could make her start hating him, but he knew the path they'd start down. They would decide that they were better as friends than as a couple, but the knowledge would be there between them from then on. They would slowly start to avoid each other, until one day they realized they hadn't spoken in years.
Don desperately didn't want that. He'd thought about his choices long and hard ever since waking up to an empty bed and a closing door. He'd had a moment of panic where he was sure he would never see her again after their drunken sex, and that hadn't sat well with him. The hangover had been the least of his problems. His mind was determined to replay every single detail from that night in glorious technicolour, complete with surround sound.
In a way, that was what had pushed him towards this course of action. They had chemistry, and it was more than as just friends. That night was going to live on in his mind for years to come.
Looking over the setup he'd put together, Don was pleased with what he'd managed to accomplish. It didn't look overly cheesy like in movies or on TV, but it was intimate and friendly. His apartment didn't have much room, but he did have space for a small table and chairs, off to the side of the living room. Most of the other floor plans in his building had an expanded kitchen that took up that small area, but Don had taken the apartment for that specific reason. He didn't cook - didn't even try anymore - so a tiny kitchen wasn't much of a hardship.
A knock at the door grabbed his attention. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
~!~
Hours later, Don was wondering why he'd been so nervous. Dinner had been nice, once Don assured her it was from a nearby restaurant and not any sudden desires of his to cook. He'd smiled when she tentatively sniffed the wine-looking liquid in her glass, and then blushed when she realized it was juice. After a few hesitant starts, they'd fallen back into comfortable conversation as they ate. Every now and then he'd sneak a peek at her, and was constantly amazed that this woman was in his life.
Then he'd have a moment of realization, where he knew that if he made the effort, she would be in his life for much, much longer. And she was definitely worth the effort.
"You've seen that movie a hundred times," he complained as she chose a well-worn favourite, but they both knew it was only for show.
“It's good,” she protested as he knew she would.
“It's a chick flick,” Don replied, taking his place on the couch as she finished setting up the movie.
“You like the sword fights,” she accused, and Don had to agree with that. It's what had made the movie enjoyable the first ten times, and bearable the next twenty.
Don watched as she moved to the couch to take her usual seat, then hesitated. They hadn't had a problem with personal space since the very start of their friendship when they were just getting comfortable with each other, yet it appeared that Willow was having some issues. He saw her biting her lip, looking between the space next to him, and the space at the end of the couch, trying to decide which to go for. Don settled back into the cushions, one arm flung up along the back.
Willow looked at him questioningly, and Don tried desperately to keep his inner amusement off his face. Don figured they'd passed the 'touching means I like them' stage, but it was interesting to see Willow try to handle it.
Apparently he hadn't kept his amusement as hidden as he'd hoped, because Willow glared at him indignantly, causing him to smile. She gave a little huff of irritation before taking her customary place next to him, resting in the curve of his arm. Don just settled in closer and watched the movie.
Just like any other time, she squeezed his hand during the cliff-climbing scene, hid her face in his shoulder at the fire swamp and closed her eyes when it was time for the weird life-sucking water machine. And despite having seen the movie dozens of times, she still gave a happy little sigh when the couple kissed at the end.
The credits had barely started rolling when he shut it off, turning to the woman who had curled up next to him sometime during the first sword fight. She looked up at him nervously, biting her lip as she tried to figure out what to do next.
“Well, I shou-” Don didn't let her finish, giving in to his desire to kiss her. He'd been good all night, wanting her to feel comfortable and not pressured, but he needed to at least kiss her and relive the electricity he remembered from that first night.
It didn't take long for Willow to get involved, hands clutching at his back as he deepened the kiss. Cupping the back of her head, he tilted her head to lock their lips together. He was barely breathing, so intent on her lips, not wanting to break away for even a second.
He heard a small whimper emerge from her throat, then one of her hands was on his head, pulling him in closer. Blood rushed away from his brain in that instant, and before he realized what he was doing, he had her pushed into the couch cushions. Willow didn't really seem to mind as she managed to work a leg out from under him, wrapping it around his hip and pulling him in closer.
Don finally broke away from her lips, only to place sucking kisses along her throat and collar bone, nudging the edge of her shirt out of the way. He could feel her ragged breathing through the vibrations in her neck, every breath pushing her breasts firmly against his chest.
Moving back towards her ear, Don whispered, “Stay with me tonight.”
For a minute he didn't think she would answer, and he wondered if he was going too fast, but 'we can just cuddle' was not a phrase he was willing to introduce into his vocabulary.
Raising his head, Don looked into her wide, green eyes, waiting for her to say something. Anything.
“Okay.”
Don smile and kissed her again.
End Part 7
Part 8