Gravity
2g

One glance in the mirror is all it takes. I understand why with perfect clarity.

And I'd really rather not.

So you'd think one glance would be enough. The sane thing would be to walk away, but I have to look again.

Will says it'll get better. I know she's right, but that doesn't change things now.

I really ought to just go. That'd be smart. But stupid me, I lean in to get a better look. I've never seen anything like this.

She said that too. Helpful.

But really, she was. The sarcasm's what's less than helpful. It isn't even justified. She's the only reason I didn't bleed to death.

I tug the front of my undershirt down. My chest is pretty much the same. My bra helped some. Enough that I'm not a total tragedy.

I still don't know how she got Dawn back without anyone else getting petrified. Or how she kept the gorgons from hijacking our portal.

That would've been fun. I wonder what stops that from happening anyway…normally. You'd think with such an advantage they could just—

Again, not exactly helpful. But neither is this. I lift my undershirt up and look at my tummy. It's the same.

I'm not sure how she even found them in the first place. Anya said that was pretty much impossible. You don't just open a portal to another realm. Something about hitting a gnat with a dart or…

Maybe it was a swarm of gnats? I don't remember. She made it sound like you'd hit something, but probably not the same something you were shooting for.

I place my foot on the toilet lid and push up my sweats. My leg's exactly the same. It looks like I fell head-first into a briar patch…and just kept falling through all of the briar patches.

It's not quite that bad. Fine scrapes crisscross my skin. 'Grass cut' was actually the perfect description. They're deeper, cleaner and shorter than typical scratches. Each one isn't more than a centimeter long. They're just tiny little things, but there are so many.

Thousands?

Maybe tens of thousands. One thing's for sure, I'm not gonna take inventory.

It's okay. They'll fade. Nothing lasts on me. I only have three stubborn scars and the wounds were really deep. These aren't.

There are a few spots that were spared, but not many. Not nearly enough. Tight clothing mostly kept them out, so…

At least I didn't have to suffer through that. Her touching my thighs was bad enough. I would've died if—

But I understand now. I get why she reacted the way she did. Why she wanted to look so closely.

So, foundation?

I probably shouldn't, but the sealer Will used is some pretty serious stuff. I'd have to be a total dumbass to screw it up.

I'll be careful.

I reach for the basket with all my makeup and sort through it until I find the right thing. Yeah, this should do. This stuff was pretty much designed to hide a tragedy. Things like Mount Vesuvius-sized zits and birth marks that cover half your face…and what I got it for: bruises. A plethora of tiny cuts shouldn't be a problem.

My right hand just sucks. It's mostly covered in gauze. She left my index and middle fingers free, along with my thumb. Good thing too, 'cause if she hadn't, this Boris Karloff fashion statement would be history. As it is, the sling just had to go.

I'll be fine.

I should moisturize first. But given—I think I'll skip it.

I open the lid of the heavy mineral oil foundation and remove the brush. Funny, I've barely used this. That's seriously gonna change. It takes a few minutes, but I manage to layer on enough to make my skin look smooth.

There's one thing that really worries me. Where it doesn't just outright hurt, my skin's numb to the touch. I have to press to feel anything at all. And when I do all I feel is icky and prickly. I noticed it when Will was—

I don't know if that'll go away. I hope it does. But those three spots, the scars that actually stuck. All of them feel like this.

At least the blindfold spared my eyes. This could've been so much worse.

I stare at my reflection, meticulously painting on the face I need to see. It still feels weird, but I'm starting to look like me.

I'm really glad she went to sleep. She was exhausted. And there wasn't anything left for us to talk about.

What could I possibly say?

No one's touched me—I want to think like that, but that isn't right at all. The only one who's ever touched me like that is her. It wasn't the way she touched me, but where. No one's touched me there since Spike. And the last time he touched me like that, he tried to rape me.

I'm not sure she gets that. How much trust it takes.

I forgave him. And none of them can understand why. But that doesn't matter. Forgiveness is meaningless…to this, at least. It's a separate thing.

There's still a part of me that'll always remember how that felt. That's not something you just forget. You move on. You try to get your life back. But you never forget.

That was my wake up call.

I heard it. And I almost listened.

That's why I forgave him, because he was the bigger person. He actually listened. He tried to change. In fact, he tried so hard it killed him.

Not much has changed with me. Well, everything's changed. But me, the person I am—

No giant leaps forward here. Progress is overrated.

Thing is, the change didn't matter. He was right. I still can't love him. The part of me that remembers won't go there.

I finish up my mascara and toss all of my makeup in the basket, then push it back where it belongs.

I look like me. That's all I needed. I flip off the light and exit the bathroom.

Will's still asleep. I walk over to the bed and sit down. She makes a couple of silly, incoherent sounds before wrapping her arm around my tummy.

People forget how to lie when they're asleep. There's no pretense. What you see is actually the truth. She cares. That much is totally true.

Smiling, I take her hand and wait. I need to figure this out before it gets too late. And I'd like her to think I've been here all along.

As I caress the back of her hand with my thumb, her arm grows heavier. When I'm sure she's good and conked, I slip free and leave the room.

I can't believe she lied to me! Why'd she even bother? She's terrible at it and she knows it. Now I need to know why. There's only one way to find out.

I walk down the hallway to Satsu's room and tap on the door. I'm so not looking forward to this. There's only one explanation for how she reacted. She's hallucinating. Me covered in bloody slime wouldn't freak her out like that. It'd be bad, but a different kind of bad. It'd take something worse—something different—to make her attack me. And I have to know what.

Whatever it is, Will lied to me about it. She said it was nothing. That Satsu was just delirious. But Will wouldn't react that way either. Not without a reason. She's the nurturing type. She'd want to help. The two things just aren't meshy. If I know the truth about one, I can probably figure the other out.

When Ro opens the door, I ask, "How is she?"

"Joos fine," she replies with a smile.

Cutting straight to the chase, I announce, "I need to see her." I motion for Ro to step aside as I ask, "Would you mind?" It's not a question.

She sneaks past me into the hall as I step through the doorway and turn to face her. She looks concerned. And that's totally fair. So am I. I offer a reassuring smile and say, "I won't be long. Take ten. Grab a snack," but she doesn't budge.

My expression hardens. She doesn't look away. Instead she replies, "If you dun't mind, ma'am, I'd like tu vate." I nod and shut the door.

That wasn't about me. Well, not really. I don't take it personally. Ro's one of those girls that doesn't have a lot. Her family's pretty shitty, so we became her family. She's protecting us. And I can totally respect that. Besides, backup—if this goes like everything else has today—not a terrible thing.

Satsu's wearing that same crazy, saucer-eyed expression when I face her. It might not be as bad. At least she's not losing it—not trying to break the ropes or anything. Not yet. Give it time.

I ask, "What do you see?" I have to figure the direct approach is gonna be best. I've been there. And reason isn't something you immediately see.

She locks eyes with me and stammers, "Yu-you're dead."

Surprised, but not really, I say, "Oh." I can't help grinning. "Huh." Well, that's not new. "You mean like flesh-eating zombie 'dead'?" I really should be ashamed of myself, but the question just sorta pops out. And as usual, I open my mouth and things get worse. She tweaks.

I mumble, "Yeah, 'cause that'd make total sense." 'Fresh from the funeral home dead' wouldn't freak her out so much. No surprise. My observation doesn't help.

It takes a few for her to chill. I wait. When she's mostly over the wig, I raise my hands and very slowly, inch toward the bed. I think I can fix this. As I move, I explain what I'm doing, "Look, I get that you're scared. But if I really am what you think I am, I won't have a pulse. I'm gonna let you check. Okay?"

She's not been catatonic, so that sorta rules out the full sensory head trip. This is like IMAX. Everything she sees is really real and lots of fun, but it's all smoke and mirrors. With any luck, I can, uh…make her see that.

And that I know so much about this only proves just how truly screwed up my life's been.

I rest my left wrist in the palm of her hand. It's really weird seeing her like this, but I'm glad she's tied up. I've smacked her down once today. I'd hate to have to do that again.

All I can do is try to put her at ease. She can't really move much, so I help position her fingers. She feels my skin and some of her tension fades. When she locates my pulse, things get even better.

I take her hand and say, "I'm really sorry about this." I want that to be an apology. But I really can't apologize for doing what's right. I can't let her walk around like this. Who knows who else she'd attack. I just hope it passes.

She tries to make eye contact. It doesn't work. She turns away. I don't blame her. And I don't want to stress her out any more than I have to. So, again, I get right to the point. "Look, I need to know something. You don't see the same thing when you look at different people. That much is obvious. What'd you see when you looked at Will?"

Satsu mumbles, "Light."

'Kay, that's not really helpful. I give her a sec, hoping she has more to offer. Finally, I run short on patience and ask, "What kind of light? Is she like a big glowy ball?"

"No, she's beautiful."

An annoying little niggle of jealousy accompanies her statement. Yeah, I'm seriously losing patience with this. One more time. I ask, "Would you mind describing exactly what you saw?" I can't make it any plainer. It might be easier for me to talk to Ro. She was alone with Satsu for hours. You'd sort of think they'd talk.

Huh, imagine that. I might be firming up.

Satsu whispers, "Her hair was white and her skin was pale, like a porcelain doll. She shimmered in the light."

Her voice has this dreamy quality. Honestly, if I wasn't irritated before—

"The light, it was in her eyes. But I blinked and she changed. There was nothing. The light was gone and her hair was black."

"Alright, I get it," I interject, hoping she'll just stop. Me dead and Will with black hair. That much rings a bell. She's seeing our pasts.

She turns really quickly to face me. It hurts her to look at me, but she doesn't give in. Glaring, she asks, "Do you?" I gape at her, not knowing what to expect. "Ro told me some things. I get what this is. It's not about the past or the future. Not really. It's about the person. This is the truth."

Huh?

"How'd you die, Buffy?"

Again, I say, huh?

Which time? I guess she means the one that should've stuck.

She knows this. They all know this. It's practically required reading. Not that I want it to be.

I respond dryly, "I fell." That's not all of it, but I'm not gonna explain. I shouldn't have to. I fell…and I haven't stopped falling.

"Then why's there a knife in your back?"

"What?"

"There's a knife in your back, right between your shoulder blades. It looks like something a Klingon might carry."

"A cling on? Clinging to what? You mean like static?"

"Star Trek?"

I just stare.

Clueless.

Oh! That's that stupid show Xander likes. Klingons are the guys with cheap fake tans, Grecian Formula hair and paste-on goatees. There are Muppets with better hair. And those clothes! They wear those awful black and silver polyester jumpsuits.

I shudder.

Knives? They had knives? There might've been a letter opener, but I don't remember any knives.

While I'm trying to decipher Satsu's cleverly encrypted geek code, she gets all serious on me. I think we have enough geeks. I'm gonna vote that she never become one of them. They can't have her.

That is, if there's even a vote. There's never a vote.

Finally, she explains, "This means something. Either someone's going to try to kill you or maybe they'll betray you? Or maybe they did betray you. It has to be something like that."

And here I was looking for answers. Silly me, I should've expected more questions. Maybe if I asked for questions someone would actually give me answers?

Nah, that's too easy. It'd never work.

I should check on Dawn. If Will's up when I get back, I'll be able to tell her the truth. Or part of it, instead of just outright lying. She needs to learn that trick.

Besides, I should. I need to know Dawn's okay. And it'd be nice to know if they've made some headway with Xander. I don't see why Will won't. She just got really defensive. Talk about high drama. I didn't have the heart to reply, 'Not really,' when she shouted, 'Can't you see what this is doing to me?'

Well, I can, but I can't. She's obviously wigged about something. No clue what. But I can't see what's so bad that she can't help her oldest, dearest friend.

I chickened out. It was easier to drop it. And probably safer. I'm afraid I'll hit a nerve and she'll disappear again.

Just standing here is pointless. I excuse myself. "Thanks. I need to go, but one more thing. If you knew what this was, why'd you get so upset?"

"Have you seen yourself?" Satsu asks, immediately thinking better of it. "No, I guess you haven't." She anxiously looks away. "Sorry. I had to talk with Ro for this to make sense."

I head for the door, turning back to say, "That's okay. Fair enough." As I exit the room, curiosity strikes. Ro's standing just down the hallway, but I have to ask, "What about Ro? What do you see?" Guilt takes over and I give Ro a nervous glance. "Umm…I mean, if it's alright to ask."

"Blood."

Yeah, I should've known better.