Day 12 . This Is Where Your Book Begins . B:tVS x SG-1
Title: This Is Where Your Book Begins
Author: jedibuttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not
Rating: PG-ish
Prompt/Prompter: for kerravonsen, who asked for "More in the More Jean Grey, Less Wolverine 'verse. Been a while since you've written anything for that. Yay Tara!."
Spoilers: Post-series for both B:tVS and Stargate SG-1
Notes: An update for More Jean Grey, Less Wolverine. Title from Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten".
Summary: She's home. Seven years and who knows how many light years away-- and she's finally home. 2700w.
For the first few seconds after they cross the Rainbow Bridge, Tara simply basks in the awareness of being back on Earth again, the gentle brush of its magical currents against her spirit. The feeling is so much clearer now than it had been before Loki took her and she had to relearn her magic all over again, but she would recognize her homeworld anywhere.
She's home. Seven years and who knows how many light years away-- and she's finally home.
More tears well up in her eyes, and she dashes them away with the back of her hand. Vala, seated next to her, gives her a sympathetic smile and rests a hand on her elbow; Tara gives her a wavery smile in return. She's barely met these people who call themselves SG-1, but every move they've made since they found her has been earnest and supportive. And not just with her; with each other, too. If she could be sure they'd be the only people she'd have to deal with....
But she can't, and Tara lets her smile fade as the little ship Colonel Mitchell called a 'puddlejumper' comes to a halt in a big, concrete box of a room, facing a window into a control space filled with men in uniforms. The walls are a uniform gray, broken up by lines of paint and warnings stenciled on in block letters. She has just enough time to register that the signs are in English, almost unfamiliar after so many years of Asgard symbols, before the ship moves again, rising upward.
There's no living greenery anywhere; no hint of where on Earth they are, except for the signs-- and the glimpse of a flag. At least she can be sure her rescuers really are American. Tara swallows, then closes her eyes again, concentrating on her breathing as the feeling of the walls closing in on her returns.
Vala shifts her hand to Tara's back, thumb rubbing in slow, aimless motions over her shoulderblade. Tara focuses on the sensation as she sends out another silent prayer. She can do this. She broke out of Loki's lab all on her own, in body; now she just has to do it again, in spirit. And this time, at least, she isn't doing it alone.
General Landry, when she meets him later that day, reminds her of a bear; and not just because of his tall, slightly stout physique and great, bushy eyebrows. He's gruff with her, and clearly not a fan of unexpected surprises; he doesn't seem to know what to do with her. But he repeats the assurances that Colonel Carter and the others had given her, asks a few broad questions about her experiences, and then turns her over to SG-1 again for a 'thorough debriefing'.
She'd never have imagined that anything about her seven years of captivity might benefit anyone... but between her conversations with Loki after her clone had been killed and he decided to keep her, and all the time she'd spent exploring his compound after he disappeared, she has a lot of incidental knowledge about the Asgard: a priceless commodity now that their race is gone. She'd never have thought she'd feel sorry for Loki, either... but finally knowing why he'd never come back fills her with as much sadness as frustration. So many lives, gone; so much effort, for nothing.
The idea of staying at the SGC for however long it might take to pass on everything she's learned is... a little on the daunting side, at first. She's been dreaming of the house on Revello Drive and the life she'd built there for so long that anything that might hold her back from that makes her hands shake and her breath come short. But at the same time... the idea of greeting her friends, her family again seven years after they thought they buried her fills her with trepidation, too. What if the reality of her doesn't match up to what they remember? What if their welcome doesn't match up to her hopes?
Colonel Mitchell makes the choice both easier and harder all at once when he brings her the folder full of research he'd had done on her behalf. She can't return to Buffy's house, because it's gone; it fell into a sinkhole along with all the rest of Sunnydale a year after her 'death'. Most of her friends got out before it happened... but none of the Scoobies are even in the country anymore. Willow went to Brazil, and only rarely comes back home; Anya's dead; Xander's somewhere in Africa; no records exist for Spike; Giles is in Scotland; Buffy is in Rome; and Dawn is pursuing her PhD in England.
Tara wonders what happened to her dresses, her books, her magic supplies; she wonders what could have been so bad that they'd shattered like glass after she was gone. And some part of her quails at the thought of finding out, of tarnishing the memories she'd held onto like talismans in her years as a captive. She spends her first night in the SGC's on base guest rooms thinking things over, then goes to Dr. Jackson and asks for two messages to be sent. Just two, and depending on what happens... one way or the other, she'll finally be able to start thinking about the future again.
Some time spent with the scientists studying Asgard technology is not too high a price to pay for that.
"So, this friend of yours. Buffy Summers?" Colonel Mitchell says casually, as they wait for the first of Tara's two contacts to make it down to the briefing room. "You knew her in Sunnydale?"
"Y-yes," Tara confirms, nodding. "I was dating a good friend of hers; and we looked after her sister sometimes, after their mom died."
"Right; your records show you shared an address for awhile," he replied, studying her face. "You and... Willow Rosenberg?"
Tara nods, cautiously. "Is... is that a problem? Buffy had to work so much to pay the bills, it seemed like the least we could do to help out."
"Nah; it's not that," he shrugs. "I'm just curious; Summers has a classified Army file dated to around the time she met you, which is kind of weird for a college student in suburban California that seems to have spent the last several years flitting around playing socialite."
"She, doesn't... ah, she never liked to talk about it," Tara says, as guilelessly as she can. After all this time, she isn't sure she remembers what's safe to talk about and what isn't. And besides, if he doesn't already know about the Initiative... well, it confirms that the SGC probably isn't in the pocket of the Initiative's backers, which is a good thing, but it also means there's probably nothing she can say that he'll actually believe. He and his team seem to think that her 'advanced abilities' are related to the feats of telekinesis, telepathy, healing, and other forms of willpower made manifest that a race called the Ancients had shown before they evolved into energy beings; Loki had believed the same thing.
Mitchell studies her with careful eyes; then nods, giving her a wry smile. "Don't worry, I won't judge by first impressions. Ain't none of us what we look like at first around here, either, you know."
"I've noticed," Tara says, smiling back.
Then the door opens, and a short, golden-haired woman steps through. Her hair is shorter and a little darker than Tara remembers; her face is leaner, and there are faint lines, now, around her eyes. But it's Buffy. Tara remembers those last few months, Buffy's bright, valiant spirit shrouded by shadows of depression, with a few sparks of light beginning to shine back through; she'd finally felt like she was connecting with Buffy as a friend outside of her relationship with Willow and her mothering of Dawn. Those clouds are all gone, now; she can't help but smile to see it, even through the lingering pang that Buffy had been the first to respond to Tara's message, rather than Willow.
Buffy stops short in the doorway, blocking her guide-- is that Riley Finn? Tara has no attention to spare for him, though; Buffy gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, tears starting in her eyes. Tara stands, her own eyes spilling over again as she reaches out a hand-- and the next minute their arms are full of each other, without a word spoken between them.
"Buffy," she finally manages to say, pulling back, hands still clasping the other woman's.
"Tara," Buffy replies, a wondering smile breaking through her tears.
Sister, is what both of them are really saying. It had been one thing to feel the touch of Gaia, but this brings it home in a way even that hadn't that Tara really is home. This isn't a dream.
"It's so good to see you," one of them says; "I've missed you so much," the other echoes, simultaneously.
Then they laugh, pull back, and sit down under the benevolently shrewd eyes of the Colonel.
"Are you sure you're all right here?" Buffy asks, clear concern in her green eyes, when the time comes for her to leave. "They're not-- taking advantage of you or anything? Because you're welcome in Rome; and Giles has a guest room. Just, you know, until Willow gets back from, um...." she trails off.
"Buffy... it's fine," Tara gently shakes her head. "They rescued me; and they've been very helpful. But I... I saw some things, where I was... things from their world, not ours," she emphasizes. "Things I can help them with. I'm good here. And Riley vouched for them."
"I know, I'm just...." Buffy reaches out and folds Tara into a hug again. "Keep in touch, okay? Send me an email as soon as you have your own address again; and be prepared for a flood of messages from Dawn. I practically had to tie her down when I stopped in London to keep her from sneaking on the plane after me."
"I will. I promise," Tara confirms, then lets her go.
Daniel waits until Riley finishes escorting Buffy out of the SGC, then tracks Tara down at the borrowed computer she's using to write up her experiences.
"I've been here since the beginning, you know," he observes thoughtfully, studying her as carefully as Mitchell had before the meeting. "Since the early days, before the IOA got involved, and before it was quite so political. I saw a lot of things back then that probably wouldn't fall under my purview today... such as the unedited record of what exactly happened at that Army base in Sunnydale."
Tara isn't sure what to say to that. Except.... "You haven't told your team?" she frowns.
He shrugs, hands thrust in his pockets. "Jack knows," he says-- meaning Homeworld Director General O'Neill, who she's gathered was part of SG-1 back at the beginning. "And Sam and Teal'c were there, too, when General Hammond asked us to look into whether the more... extraordinary... aspects of the incident could be tied in any way to Goa'uld involvement. But Sam tends to dismiss anything that can't be logically explained; and Teal'c wouldn't care about the ramifications, except to test Ms. Summers' skills."
So.... this isn't recent knowledge; he's known, at least in some vague way, about the supernatural since before he met Tara, and so has half his team. "S-she might like that?" she manages to reply.
"Hmmm," Daniel agrees. "I know there was a lot to what was going on that didn't make it into the records; there had to've been. What's there seems like little more than a tantalizing glimpse into a world with subcultures and languages and legends all its own." He meets her gaze frankly, blue eyes earnest and gently demanding. "It reminded me of the early days of the SGC, in fact; of taking our first steps into a much larger, stranger world than we ever could have imagined. And made me wonder... how well the skills for dealing with one world might overlap with the other."
She hasn't thought about that, before; hasn't imagined what she'll do when she's done with her reports, when Dr. Lam is finally satisfied that her weight and blood panel results are back within healthy ranges. It's like she's been in a holding pattern, adjusting; wetting her feet before stepping back into the pool.
Tara bites her lip, thinking about it now, as Daniel turns to leave.
A week passes; then another. Then one morning, Tara wakes from a dream of being held close in familiar arms, the scent of strawberry shampoo in her nose. A tremulous thread of disbelieving joy threads through her mood all day; a joy not hers. She holds her breath, waiting. And she is not disappointed.
Vala escorts her up to the surface most mornings; she lives on the base, too, and has ever since her return from-- well, Tara hasn't got the full story on that yet, but it has something to do with a vast interstellar war recently concluded? She likes to get a little fresh air on the days her team doesn't go off-world, and it eases Tara's feeling of being trapped underground to sit on the grass, open herself to the world around her, and breathe. There's only one sun in the sky; the world turns faster than she's used to; but she never gets tired of staring up at the puffs of white cloud crossing the blue, blue heavens, and listening to Vala's bright chatter about her latest discoveries.
On that day, Vala's voice falls silent right in the middle of a wry discussion about the wonders of single-cup pod coffeemakers in taming the somnambulant subspecies of scientist, as a flash of light sunbursts behind her. Tara knows, even before she stands and turns, who it is; a lump forms in her throat, and her hands tremble. It's been so long. Willow's had other girlfriends-- Buffy had told her. They've both been through so much. She doesn't dare have any expectations.
Willow looks... older, like Buffy had. Her hair is darker, too; still red, but a richer hue, with a lock of white falling from one temple. Her face is leaner. But she dresses much the same. And her eyes....
"Tara. Oh, goddess; Tara. I didn't believe it when Buffy told me," she says, clasping her hands in front of her so tightly her knuckles whiten.
"I'll just... go let the general know we have a visitor, then, shall I?" Vala murmurs in the background; Tara barely notices her leave.
"It's really-- it's really me, Willow," Tara says, trying, and not quite succeeding, to smile. "I never... I was going to come to you that day, I swear. All I could think about was seeing you again; telling you I still loved you. Rebuilding things, together. All these years-- but I know it's been so long; I know you thought I was gone--"
Willow's face twists, briefly, with pain; then she reaches out suddenly, her grip as tight as a Slayer's. "Are you kidding me right now?" she half-sobs. "No one ever-- I couldn't-- oh, Tara."
Her lips are firmer than Tara remembers; but the cup of her hand on Tara's cheek, the arm around her waist just as reverent.
When they pull back, both of them are smiling: luminous, radiant. "Then you...?" Willow says.
"I do. I do, but...." She gestures toward the open hatch, leading into the Mountain.
"You may not have noticed, but I can kind of commute anywhere these days?" Willow says, gesturing at the air. "If you want... I mean, if they're not, Buffy said, but...."
"I kind of owe them? And Willow, the things they've seen... it's not like the Initiative. These people...."
"We'll work it out," Willow says earnestly, then bursts into a disbelieving laugh. "There's so much to tell you. There's so much I want to say. So much I want to know."
"We'll have the time now," Tara smiles, feeling the future finally unspool again, bright with promise, in front of her.
-x-
Author: jedibuttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not
Rating: PG-ish
Prompt/Prompter: for kerravonsen, who asked for "More in the More Jean Grey, Less Wolverine 'verse. Been a while since you've written anything for that. Yay Tara!."
Spoilers: Post-series for both B:tVS and Stargate SG-1
Notes: An update for More Jean Grey, Less Wolverine. Title from Natasha Bedingfield's "Unwritten".
Summary: She's home. Seven years and who knows how many light years away-- and she's finally home. 2700w.
For the first few seconds after they cross the Rainbow Bridge, Tara simply basks in the awareness of being back on Earth again, the gentle brush of its magical currents against her spirit. The feeling is so much clearer now than it had been before Loki took her and she had to relearn her magic all over again, but she would recognize her homeworld anywhere.
She's home. Seven years and who knows how many light years away-- and she's finally home.
More tears well up in her eyes, and she dashes them away with the back of her hand. Vala, seated next to her, gives her a sympathetic smile and rests a hand on her elbow; Tara gives her a wavery smile in return. She's barely met these people who call themselves SG-1, but every move they've made since they found her has been earnest and supportive. And not just with her; with each other, too. If she could be sure they'd be the only people she'd have to deal with....
But she can't, and Tara lets her smile fade as the little ship Colonel Mitchell called a 'puddlejumper' comes to a halt in a big, concrete box of a room, facing a window into a control space filled with men in uniforms. The walls are a uniform gray, broken up by lines of paint and warnings stenciled on in block letters. She has just enough time to register that the signs are in English, almost unfamiliar after so many years of Asgard symbols, before the ship moves again, rising upward.
There's no living greenery anywhere; no hint of where on Earth they are, except for the signs-- and the glimpse of a flag. At least she can be sure her rescuers really are American. Tara swallows, then closes her eyes again, concentrating on her breathing as the feeling of the walls closing in on her returns.
Vala shifts her hand to Tara's back, thumb rubbing in slow, aimless motions over her shoulderblade. Tara focuses on the sensation as she sends out another silent prayer. She can do this. She broke out of Loki's lab all on her own, in body; now she just has to do it again, in spirit. And this time, at least, she isn't doing it alone.
General Landry, when she meets him later that day, reminds her of a bear; and not just because of his tall, slightly stout physique and great, bushy eyebrows. He's gruff with her, and clearly not a fan of unexpected surprises; he doesn't seem to know what to do with her. But he repeats the assurances that Colonel Carter and the others had given her, asks a few broad questions about her experiences, and then turns her over to SG-1 again for a 'thorough debriefing'.
She'd never have imagined that anything about her seven years of captivity might benefit anyone... but between her conversations with Loki after her clone had been killed and he decided to keep her, and all the time she'd spent exploring his compound after he disappeared, she has a lot of incidental knowledge about the Asgard: a priceless commodity now that their race is gone. She'd never have thought she'd feel sorry for Loki, either... but finally knowing why he'd never come back fills her with as much sadness as frustration. So many lives, gone; so much effort, for nothing.
The idea of staying at the SGC for however long it might take to pass on everything she's learned is... a little on the daunting side, at first. She's been dreaming of the house on Revello Drive and the life she'd built there for so long that anything that might hold her back from that makes her hands shake and her breath come short. But at the same time... the idea of greeting her friends, her family again seven years after they thought they buried her fills her with trepidation, too. What if the reality of her doesn't match up to what they remember? What if their welcome doesn't match up to her hopes?
Colonel Mitchell makes the choice both easier and harder all at once when he brings her the folder full of research he'd had done on her behalf. She can't return to Buffy's house, because it's gone; it fell into a sinkhole along with all the rest of Sunnydale a year after her 'death'. Most of her friends got out before it happened... but none of the Scoobies are even in the country anymore. Willow went to Brazil, and only rarely comes back home; Anya's dead; Xander's somewhere in Africa; no records exist for Spike; Giles is in Scotland; Buffy is in Rome; and Dawn is pursuing her PhD in England.
Tara wonders what happened to her dresses, her books, her magic supplies; she wonders what could have been so bad that they'd shattered like glass after she was gone. And some part of her quails at the thought of finding out, of tarnishing the memories she'd held onto like talismans in her years as a captive. She spends her first night in the SGC's on base guest rooms thinking things over, then goes to Dr. Jackson and asks for two messages to be sent. Just two, and depending on what happens... one way or the other, she'll finally be able to start thinking about the future again.
Some time spent with the scientists studying Asgard technology is not too high a price to pay for that.
"So, this friend of yours. Buffy Summers?" Colonel Mitchell says casually, as they wait for the first of Tara's two contacts to make it down to the briefing room. "You knew her in Sunnydale?"
"Y-yes," Tara confirms, nodding. "I was dating a good friend of hers; and we looked after her sister sometimes, after their mom died."
"Right; your records show you shared an address for awhile," he replied, studying her face. "You and... Willow Rosenberg?"
Tara nods, cautiously. "Is... is that a problem? Buffy had to work so much to pay the bills, it seemed like the least we could do to help out."
"Nah; it's not that," he shrugs. "I'm just curious; Summers has a classified Army file dated to around the time she met you, which is kind of weird for a college student in suburban California that seems to have spent the last several years flitting around playing socialite."
"She, doesn't... ah, she never liked to talk about it," Tara says, as guilelessly as she can. After all this time, she isn't sure she remembers what's safe to talk about and what isn't. And besides, if he doesn't already know about the Initiative... well, it confirms that the SGC probably isn't in the pocket of the Initiative's backers, which is a good thing, but it also means there's probably nothing she can say that he'll actually believe. He and his team seem to think that her 'advanced abilities' are related to the feats of telekinesis, telepathy, healing, and other forms of willpower made manifest that a race called the Ancients had shown before they evolved into energy beings; Loki had believed the same thing.
Mitchell studies her with careful eyes; then nods, giving her a wry smile. "Don't worry, I won't judge by first impressions. Ain't none of us what we look like at first around here, either, you know."
"I've noticed," Tara says, smiling back.
Then the door opens, and a short, golden-haired woman steps through. Her hair is shorter and a little darker than Tara remembers; her face is leaner, and there are faint lines, now, around her eyes. But it's Buffy. Tara remembers those last few months, Buffy's bright, valiant spirit shrouded by shadows of depression, with a few sparks of light beginning to shine back through; she'd finally felt like she was connecting with Buffy as a friend outside of her relationship with Willow and her mothering of Dawn. Those clouds are all gone, now; she can't help but smile to see it, even through the lingering pang that Buffy had been the first to respond to Tara's message, rather than Willow.
Buffy stops short in the doorway, blocking her guide-- is that Riley Finn? Tara has no attention to spare for him, though; Buffy gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, tears starting in her eyes. Tara stands, her own eyes spilling over again as she reaches out a hand-- and the next minute their arms are full of each other, without a word spoken between them.
"Buffy," she finally manages to say, pulling back, hands still clasping the other woman's.
"Tara," Buffy replies, a wondering smile breaking through her tears.
Sister, is what both of them are really saying. It had been one thing to feel the touch of Gaia, but this brings it home in a way even that hadn't that Tara really is home. This isn't a dream.
"It's so good to see you," one of them says; "I've missed you so much," the other echoes, simultaneously.
Then they laugh, pull back, and sit down under the benevolently shrewd eyes of the Colonel.
"Are you sure you're all right here?" Buffy asks, clear concern in her green eyes, when the time comes for her to leave. "They're not-- taking advantage of you or anything? Because you're welcome in Rome; and Giles has a guest room. Just, you know, until Willow gets back from, um...." she trails off.
"Buffy... it's fine," Tara gently shakes her head. "They rescued me; and they've been very helpful. But I... I saw some things, where I was... things from their world, not ours," she emphasizes. "Things I can help them with. I'm good here. And Riley vouched for them."
"I know, I'm just...." Buffy reaches out and folds Tara into a hug again. "Keep in touch, okay? Send me an email as soon as you have your own address again; and be prepared for a flood of messages from Dawn. I practically had to tie her down when I stopped in London to keep her from sneaking on the plane after me."
"I will. I promise," Tara confirms, then lets her go.
Daniel waits until Riley finishes escorting Buffy out of the SGC, then tracks Tara down at the borrowed computer she's using to write up her experiences.
"I've been here since the beginning, you know," he observes thoughtfully, studying her as carefully as Mitchell had before the meeting. "Since the early days, before the IOA got involved, and before it was quite so political. I saw a lot of things back then that probably wouldn't fall under my purview today... such as the unedited record of what exactly happened at that Army base in Sunnydale."
Tara isn't sure what to say to that. Except.... "You haven't told your team?" she frowns.
He shrugs, hands thrust in his pockets. "Jack knows," he says-- meaning Homeworld Director General O'Neill, who she's gathered was part of SG-1 back at the beginning. "And Sam and Teal'c were there, too, when General Hammond asked us to look into whether the more... extraordinary... aspects of the incident could be tied in any way to Goa'uld involvement. But Sam tends to dismiss anything that can't be logically explained; and Teal'c wouldn't care about the ramifications, except to test Ms. Summers' skills."
So.... this isn't recent knowledge; he's known, at least in some vague way, about the supernatural since before he met Tara, and so has half his team. "S-she might like that?" she manages to reply.
"Hmmm," Daniel agrees. "I know there was a lot to what was going on that didn't make it into the records; there had to've been. What's there seems like little more than a tantalizing glimpse into a world with subcultures and languages and legends all its own." He meets her gaze frankly, blue eyes earnest and gently demanding. "It reminded me of the early days of the SGC, in fact; of taking our first steps into a much larger, stranger world than we ever could have imagined. And made me wonder... how well the skills for dealing with one world might overlap with the other."
She hasn't thought about that, before; hasn't imagined what she'll do when she's done with her reports, when Dr. Lam is finally satisfied that her weight and blood panel results are back within healthy ranges. It's like she's been in a holding pattern, adjusting; wetting her feet before stepping back into the pool.
Tara bites her lip, thinking about it now, as Daniel turns to leave.
A week passes; then another. Then one morning, Tara wakes from a dream of being held close in familiar arms, the scent of strawberry shampoo in her nose. A tremulous thread of disbelieving joy threads through her mood all day; a joy not hers. She holds her breath, waiting. And she is not disappointed.
Vala escorts her up to the surface most mornings; she lives on the base, too, and has ever since her return from-- well, Tara hasn't got the full story on that yet, but it has something to do with a vast interstellar war recently concluded? She likes to get a little fresh air on the days her team doesn't go off-world, and it eases Tara's feeling of being trapped underground to sit on the grass, open herself to the world around her, and breathe. There's only one sun in the sky; the world turns faster than she's used to; but she never gets tired of staring up at the puffs of white cloud crossing the blue, blue heavens, and listening to Vala's bright chatter about her latest discoveries.
On that day, Vala's voice falls silent right in the middle of a wry discussion about the wonders of single-cup pod coffeemakers in taming the somnambulant subspecies of scientist, as a flash of light sunbursts behind her. Tara knows, even before she stands and turns, who it is; a lump forms in her throat, and her hands tremble. It's been so long. Willow's had other girlfriends-- Buffy had told her. They've both been through so much. She doesn't dare have any expectations.
Willow looks... older, like Buffy had. Her hair is darker, too; still red, but a richer hue, with a lock of white falling from one temple. Her face is leaner. But she dresses much the same. And her eyes....
"Tara. Oh, goddess; Tara. I didn't believe it when Buffy told me," she says, clasping her hands in front of her so tightly her knuckles whiten.
"I'll just... go let the general know we have a visitor, then, shall I?" Vala murmurs in the background; Tara barely notices her leave.
"It's really-- it's really me, Willow," Tara says, trying, and not quite succeeding, to smile. "I never... I was going to come to you that day, I swear. All I could think about was seeing you again; telling you I still loved you. Rebuilding things, together. All these years-- but I know it's been so long; I know you thought I was gone--"
Willow's face twists, briefly, with pain; then she reaches out suddenly, her grip as tight as a Slayer's. "Are you kidding me right now?" she half-sobs. "No one ever-- I couldn't-- oh, Tara."
Her lips are firmer than Tara remembers; but the cup of her hand on Tara's cheek, the arm around her waist just as reverent.
When they pull back, both of them are smiling: luminous, radiant. "Then you...?" Willow says.
"I do. I do, but...." She gestures toward the open hatch, leading into the Mountain.
"You may not have noticed, but I can kind of commute anywhere these days?" Willow says, gesturing at the air. "If you want... I mean, if they're not, Buffy said, but...."
"I kind of owe them? And Willow, the things they've seen... it's not like the Initiative. These people...."
"We'll work it out," Willow says earnestly, then bursts into a disbelieving laugh. "There's so much to tell you. There's so much I want to say. So much I want to know."
"We'll have the time now," Tara smiles, feeling the future finally unspool again, bright with promise, in front of her.
-x-