DISCLAIMER: No infringement of copyright is intended. You know the drill, anyone appearing on or mentioned on BtVS are ME's.
RATING: T
PAIRING: Ben and Tara
SUMMARY: Ben checks in on Tara
EXTRA WARNINGS and or SPOILERS: Language
Accountable
by Eris © 2005 — All rights reserved.
Ben was beside himself when he saw the young woman's chart. He knew her. Oh God, he knew her. That freaking, evil bitch. Not again. Why?
Tara sat cross-legged on her hospital bed, unconsciously rocking back and forth, unaware of her surroundings. The meds she was being given were keeping her calm enough so as to avoid the need for restraints...for the moment.
Only Ben knew, as the sun went down, the agitation would begin. He sat down next to her to evaluate her, but there was really no point. He knew the symptoms, and worst of all, he knew the cause. Keeping her here with the rest of the brain-sucked patients would serve no purpose. In fact, it might even bring about unwanted attention.
Suddenly he felt something moving along his arm. Tara was stroking it with the back of her bandaged hand. He looked to her, and she smiled wide at him, her blue eyes twinkling. "Red sunshine waits just so," she babbled, then patted the tip of his nose playfully.
He felt his eyes begin to well up as he gazed at the ailing girl. "I'm so sorry," he said, voice riddled with remorse. "You don't know how sorry I truly am."
And Tara never would, for she was already back to rocking and randomly staring about the room, lost in her own little world, inside what was left of her shattered mind.
She was such a sweet girl. She didn't deserve this. Then, neither did any of the others. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or doing their jobs, when that vicious bitch from hell singled them out to pounce on them, taking their essence and sanity from them forever.
Attempting to pull himself together, he wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his lab coat and sniffed, then gently took Tara's damaged hand and examined the dressing.
She was lucky, usually if that heartless whore decided to play with her food before eating, they didn't survive. However, perhaps she'd had a weak moment during her powering-down period. On the other hand, maybe she took pity on her because she was so pretty. Then again, maybe she thought to keep her around as a plaything, as she certainly wasn't the type Glory generally fed off. Tara was too high profile. She had friends, and her absence would be noticed if she just up and disappeared one day.
There would also most definitely be questions about her condition. Questions that would be answered with a flurry of Latin-y medicalized mumbo jumbo that basically boiled down to big fat I don't knows.
"You know, there's some sweets in my shoulder bag," Tara suddenly said, rousing him from his thoughts.
"What?" he responded, excitement creeping in for the briefest of moments. However, she just smiled and giggled at him like a four year old, raising her hands to her face for an impromptu game of peek-a-boo.
His heart sank and he returned a gentle smile shaking his head at his foolishness. Optimism had the better of him, and he thought...no, he hoped, her lucidity had possibly returned. Except he knew better.
"Tara," He said leaning in, "I wish there were a way I could take it all back. Make you the way you were again."
Quite unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear, "I can hear the snow as it falls." Then kissed him on the cheek and released him, bouncing on the bed excitable-like giggling again.
"I'm sure you can." He replied with a melancholy chuckle of his own, and a stroke to the side of her face that sent her into fits of exuberance. She beamed a smile his direction for a few more moments but then her bright gaze began to dim and she was gone again.
Rising to make his exit, he made a few notes on her chart, then signed and dated them. Halting in the doorway, he turned and sighed, his heart heavy with guilt. If she only knew. If only she knew, she'd hate him forever. "Sleep well." he bid, and headed off to continue his rounds.
