~Chapter Ten~

We look before and after, And pine for what is not

Tara might have felt ten times worse if she had somehow found out that while she was planning on reclining on her couch with a bag of potato chips propped up on her chest, Willow was out treading the pavement in her running shoes. Not usually one for such a public form of exertion, it had nevertheless seemed to be the only thing that the redhead could think of doing after pacing to and fro about her living room for almost half an hour, debating whether or not to call Tara and apologise. She'd stared at the blonde's number with her finger poised above the 'talk' button only to find herself incapable of actually going through with it.

Her first thought had been to pour herself a drink but one look at the vodka mixers in her fridge had reminded her of the incident the previous weekend and she'd slammed the door shut on the temptation. It was then on with the shorts, t-shirt and shoes and out the door. The first few minutes, running out around the bay where she lived, had been an exercise in self-humiliation. It was a popular running route for people of all abilities, mostly taking time out from their offices in the CBD. As such the tree lined route, right by the sea, was a little crowded. Willow felt as though each and every person who passed her was somehow laughing at her. Gradually, this irrational fear was replaced as she slipped into a comfortable running zone. She was even glad that she had forgotten her iPod. With no music to drown out her thoughts, she could dwell on what happened with Tara at Café l'Affare.

It had all started so pleasantly, aside of course from that fact that she had been over half an hour late. She made a mental note for her next cut - she would tell Gustav to get it right the first time or else she would take her considerable patronage elsewhere. Anyway, aside from her tardiness, everything had gone rather well. Not normally one for chit-chat, Willow had genuinely found herself enjoying Tara's company. Just watching the blonde as she spoke was enjoyable enough and for once, she didn't feel the need to be doing all the talking. So Tara was a writer. Willow thought she could see that. The blonde with her head down over her typewriter - Willow shook her head slightly at the silly thought. People don't use typewriters anymore do they? Tara probably had a laptop. So she could see her with her head down over her laptop. She was probably one of those people who constantly had the tip of their tongue protruding from their mouth while they were concentrating. Willow decided she liked that image immensely and held onto it for a few moments, immersing herself in it to the point that she almost ran straight into the side of a bus shelter. Willow swerved to avoid the nasty collision and moved over to the middle of the path, making another mental note to avoid getting into deep daydreams while she was running.

Historical fiction…what were the titles she gave? Passion and fire or something like that? Mmmhhmm, she probably writes sex scenes. I was right, there is more to Tara Maclay! For the first time in her life (other than the times she had been forced to in high school), Willow was actually contemplating reading a novel.

Then that super-bitch Natalie had showed up and ruined everything. Willow could have hit herself. She had fallen right into Natalie's trap. A trap complete with stupid smouldering eyes and tits shoved right up into her face. The whole event had been a carefully acted play, right down to the swaying of her hips as she sauntered out of the café. By far the worst element of the whole disaster was the fact that it was Natalie who had dumped her to begin with. They were much too alike, both needing to be the centre of attention at all times and that had been a recipe for sparks flying. With an angry huff Willow knew that Natalie had planned everything to draw her attention away from the gorgeous girl she was with - in this case - Tara.

Willow was angry at herself for falling for such a cheap trick, and once again she'd managed to alienate Tara. Their conversation had been going so well that Willow had already been planning a proper date as she was polishing off the last of her bacon. She had been thinking of dinner at Niccolini's - Italian food in a dark corner by candlelight. However such pleasant thoughts had been brought to an abrupt halt by the skank with double Ds.

Fuelled by anger, Willow pumped her legs faster until she was almost sprinting. She kept running until her heart was beating at what felt like a million times a minute, threatening to explode out of her chest. By the time she had ran a complete circuit and she was almost back at her apartment she was on the verge of collapsing but her mind was clear.

She contemplated finishing off her stellar running effort by zipping up the stairs to her apartment, however the three stairs just to get into her building proved difficult enough and she wisely opted to take the lift. She weakly stabbed the button and sagged against the wall behind her, not caring if she left a sweat patch. At the ding and swish of the doors as they opened, it was all Willow could do to drag herself out of the lift and down the hall to her door. Once inside she made straight for a handy glass and the water tap to quench her parched innards.

At the sound of her door opening behind her Willow received one hell of a surprise and almost dropped the glass she was holding. However, she relaxed almost instantly when she saw Xander walk in and close the door behind him.

"I didn't buzz you up," she observed after draining the glass dry and dumping it in the sink.

Xander helpfully reminded her that he had his own swipe card by waving it in her face. He then crossed to the sink and deposited her empty glass in the dishwasher, "If you leave it in the sink then it won't get washed, but there's this super invention sitting under your bench that only requires you to push a couple of buttons and it washes stuff for you. Genius really."

Willow sagged against the bench, unimpressed by his advice. "I would've drank straight from the tap but I couldn't bend over that far. "

Xander tucked the card back in his wallet, all the while glancing at her sweaty, dishevelled appearance, "I was going to ask why you missed our session again, and give you an earful about sitting around on your far arse, but I see you haven't been."

"Nope," Willow replied proudly, standing without aid of the bench she made a half-hearted effort to stretch out her tired muscles. "Went for a jog."

Xander bit his lip and frowned as though trying to get his thoughts around this revelation. "Okay, I was kind of pissed at you for standing me up and all, but you running of your own accord has me too shocked to say anything else. Did you run in public where people could see you?"

Willow ignored the taunt in his words. "Around Oriental Bay."

"I don't think the common people would have quite realised what they were witnessing," Xander said with a smirk. "The great Willow Rosenberg, huffing, puffing and sweating in public. Now get your arse down on your mat and let me stretch you out."

Willow complied, walking obediently across her barely used yoga mat which was laid out to one side of the large room. With a groan she flopped to the floor and rolled over onto her back. As Xander stretched out her quad, she felt her racing heart calm until it was almost normal. She definitely did not like the clammy feeling of sweat drying on her skin however.

"Soooo?" Xander began expectantly.

"So what?" Willow replied back in a tart voice as she switched legs. She knew she didn't have to be quite so rude in reply but she was tired and her stomach was rumbling in a demanding fashion.

Well used to Willow's snappish moods, Xander brushed it off and continued, "So how did brunch with Tara go? Judging by the sudden urge to run a marathon, I'd say it didn't go well, but that's my humble observation."

"It started out well. I followed all of your advice. I asked about what she did, I kept my ramblings about myself to an absolute minimum-"

"What does she do by the way?" Xander interrupted quickly, he was clearly keen to find out more about Tara Maclay as well.

"She's a writer," Willow replied. "And not just any writer, she writes romantic, historical stuff. You know, the kind with lots of sex."

Xander's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "She really doesn't strike me as that sort of person."

Willow smirked. "Okay, I made up the part about lots of sex, but one of her books is called 'Land of Burning Passion,' or something like that. So it was sort of an educated guess."

"So it was going well and…?" Xander waited expectantly.

"Natalie showed up," Willow continued in a dry voice, all her sparkle suddenly gone.

"Oh," Xander added simply. It was all Willow needed to say. He had already listened to many rants from Willow about the woman who had flicked her away for hogging too much of her spotlight. "You're done and dusted with her, how the hell could she have ruined anything?"

Xander let her leg go and Willow rolled away from him to bury her face in the floor. "I was a moron!" she groaned, knowing full well that she had let Natalie get to her. "She flirted, and I flirted back. C'mon, you've seen the rack on that woman! It was like I couldn't help myself!"

Xander sat back on his haunches and glared at Willow. "Will! What did I tell you about keeping your eyes on Tara throughout the whole meal! I distinctly remember saying no roaming!"

Willow rolled over to meet Xander's accusing glare and she nodded in admission of defeat. He had provided her with a careful set of instructions for her brunch with Tara. Firstly, he'd told her to listen as much as she possibly could. He was all too aware of her penchant for talking about herself because as far as she was concerned, she was always more exciting than the other person. Willow had admitted that such an approach would not work with Tara and indeed, the whole listening routine had served her well. Then Natalie had shown up, and she'd broken Xander's second rule, no ogling other girls. It was all too obvious to both of them that Tara was a one woman kind of girl and whether Willow was interested in her for the long term or merely getting into her pants again, she couldn't stray. Staring at Natalie's tits and arse right in front of Tara definitely counted as straying.

"God, I'm such an idiot!" Willow groaned. "I had a beautiful girl sitting in front of me; staring at only me, and I go and do something like that to her. Why do I always do that?"

Xander shrugged as he stood up and then reached back down to help Willow to her feet. "Because that's what you do."

"That is what I do," Willow agreed as she took his hand.

"Well, if I know you, and I do, you're not going to let this go. What's your next move?" was Xander's simple question as he helped her back to her feet.

Willow stood and let go of Xander's hands once upright and declared with a small smile on her face. "I think I'm going to buy a book."

After returning to her apartment, Tara had been forced to turn around and go back out when she discovered she had no potato chips, or chocolate, or ice-cram, or anything remotely resembling pity-food. Once she had the potato chips, and a couple of chocolate bars for good measure, she prepared a pillow and a blanket on the couch. There was just the question of what to watch. She perused her extensive DVD collection but despite the variety, nothing jumped out at her. She was about to give up and choose her perennial favourite Tomb Raider, for a bit of eye candy, when the phone rang.

Predictably, it was Faith. "Hey T, I've been waiting for you to call and let me know how brunch with the club princess went?"

Tara's response was also predictable. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okaaaay," Faith said slowly, "You do remember that I'm your best friend right? You're not going to get away with an answer like that with me. Spill!"

Letting out a slight groan, Tara flopped down on the couch, and propped her hand beneath her chin. "Can I just say it went badly and leave it at that?"

"No you can't!"

"She was perving at another chick while having brunch with me!" Tara finally snapped. In irritation she reached out for the bag of potato chips lying next to her and tried to prise them open with one hand. "Some skank she'd obviously had something with in the past - nice boobies though. Anyway, is it just me or is that really wrong?"

Faith paused for a moment before replying, "Well, what was the extent of their interaction? Did they go to the bathroom together for half an hour or was it just talking?"

"Talking…and flirting!" Tara answered, scowling as the chip bag proved resistant to her efforts to open it.

"T, did you over-react?" Faith asked in a low, knowing voice.

"I most certainly did not!" Tara replied indignantly, she then paused and thought about it for a moment, remembering her own second thoughts on her outburst as she watched Willow through the gift shop window. "Well…maybe a little…"

"Are you going to call her again?" was Faith's immediate response, she obviously felt that Willow's flirting was not so terrible that it should end whatever was going on between her friend and the redhead.

"Oh my god Faith, I have got to stay away from that woman! She's like a huge pimple, you can't help but look at it and play with it, but in the end you just want the fucking thing to go away!" Tara snapped, she finally gave up trying to prise the bag open with one hand and ripped it open with her teeth. It was a far more successful manoeuvre, albeit a little too successful. The bag tore open and a handful of chips flew out to land on her lap. Instead of getting annoyed at the mess, Tara regarded this as quite satisfactory and shovelled a couple of them into her mouth.

Faith chuckled at Tara's analogy. "Do you really want Willow to go away?"

Tara swallowed her mouthful. "Honestly, no. I've never felt like I do when I'm with her. Audrey always kept me right in my place. I had my work and I had her and that was enough for me but then Willow Rosenberg comes charging into my life and I feel alive again, and not just alive but really, really living! When I'm with her I feel like a much cooler version of Tara Maclay."

"How do you figure that?" Faith asked with confusion clearly registering in her voice. Obviously she thought Tara was going slightly nuts.

Tara replied with a mouthful of chips, "You don't get it Faith, whoever is with her, with Willow Rosenberg, they have to be someone so gorgeous, so awesome that she would choose them over anyone else. Whenever I'm with her, I feel like that girl."

Faith sighed, Tara was indeed nuts. "Tara, you are gorgeous and awesome all by yourself, you don't need Willow to make you become those things."

"Then why did Audrey cheat on me?" Tara demanded in a plaintive voice. "And not just once, but twice!"

"Because she was a bitch," was Faith's rather blunt reply, she paused for a moment before continuing, "And Willow's nothing more than spoilt rich kid with too much money and zero good sense! I will take some of the blame though, I thought in some way she'd be good for you but I honestly think she's making you a little crazy. Example one – sorry to go slightly off topic - but you scoring a guy's phone number for me? T, when have I ever needed you to pick up guys for me?"

"He seemed so nice," Tara replied quietly, fishing more chips from her lap.

"He is nice!" Faith said quickly.

"You went out with Karl without telling me?" Tara spluttered, several gobs of chip went flying out of her mouth.

"Well, you have to admit, I thought you'd gone off your rocker and that he'd be a dud for sure, and I didn't want to make you feel bad," Faith began. "So I thought I'd keep it simple and quiet in case it was a disaster. We went for coffee and it was great, he's such a sweetie! We're going out again tomorrow night."

"Great," Tara replied, trying to keep her voice enthusiastic. At least one of us is having some luck when it comes to coffee dates!

"Hey, do you wanna come over?" Faith asked, sensing that Tara needed a little one on one time with her best friend. "I can tell that you're going to plonk your sorry arse down on your couch all afternoon. I've got chips and Tim-tams and there's a Buffy marathon on Channel 5."

Tara found herself with a genuine smile crossing her lips - a best friend, Tim-tams and Buffy. What more did she possibly need? However, there was one thing that she told herself she had to do that afternoon, and no matter what had happened, she had to go through with it.

"Sounds good Faith. Although can you hold off eating the biscuits until this evening? I have to drive out to Makara first."

"Okay," Faith replied, knowing exactly where Tara was going. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Tara hesitated, for a moment she thought that it would be easier if Faith were at her side. Then she thought better of it, she had to go alone. "Thanks but I'll be fine by myself. I'll see you later on okay?"

After eliciting a promise from Faith that she would not open the packet of Tim-tams until she was there, Tara hung up and sighed. She wasn't at all looking forward to what was to come, but she felt it was long overdue.

It was a reasonably long drive out to Makara, made slightly worse by Friday afternoon traffic – people often left work early. However it was time enough anyway for Tara to think, especially about her brunch with Willow. She had pretty much summed it all up on the phone to Faith earlier, Willow did make her feel like more than herself, a different kind of Tara, one that was cool and hung out with the 'in-crowd' as she had done at Xander's party.

As intriguing and inviting as the 'in crowd' was, Tara knew she wasn't that girl. She was the kind of girl who stayed at home on Saturday nights and watched Buffy - definitely not the activities of a social butterfly. She preferred small screen action to a room full of drunken partygoers, especially the kind that gave her a black eye and a split lip.

Finally approaching her destination, Tara slowed, she then pulled the Suzuki Swift off the road and down the road she was looking for. The car park was hardly full, but then again Friday afternoons weren't really peak hour for such visits. She retrieved the flowers from the passenger seat and left her car to walk up the hill along the carefully manicured pathways. The wind had picked up a little and it whipped her hair against her face.

She finally found the row she was looking for and slowed a little. She hadn't been out here since that day, four months ago. This visit was already dredging up memories of just how awful it had been with Audrey's family and David all staring at her as though she were the one that didn't belong. All too soon she came across the simple headstone inscribed with the name 'Audrey Kent' and she stopped. Several gorgeous bunches of flowers were piled high around the stone, no doubt one was from David. Tara stooped to place her own rather insignificant offering next to the others and stepped back a few paces. As she stared down at the black marble she didn't really know what to say. She hadn't come with the intention of saying anything. She just felt it was her obligation to visit her girlfriend's grave.

After a few minutes of reading the words over and over, Tara looked up and out to the bright blue sea in the distance. The wind seemed a little colder and she could feel her nose start to run slightly. Tara sniffed, unsure if she was crying or just merely cold.

When she finally glanced back at Audrey's headstone, she had found some words. "I'm sorry, Auds. I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to really be with him. To know if he could have made you happy in ways I couldn't. I'm sorry you couldn't bring yourself to tell me earlier…"

It sounded pathetic to her own ears, a part of her felt like venting her anger, demanding to know why Audrey didn't have the guts to tell her that she wanted to break things off as soon as she realised she wanted to be with David. However Tara couldn't summon the will to be angry, she just felt sad that she had wasted so many years of her life with someone who didn't really care about her. It saddened her even further to think that she might never find the one person that she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. Instead she would be forced to spend fleeting moments with people like Willow Rosenberg, until the point where she was just an empty husk of a person with nothing left to give.

Tara pressed her fingers to her lips and stooped slightly to press those fingers to the top of the headstone. She then turned and trudged back down the hill to her car, stuffing her hands in her pockets to ward off the cold. When she sniffed again, she realised that she was actually crying.