~Chapter Eleven~

Fear not for the future, weep not for the past

Tara spent much of the next month trying to forget about Willow Rosenberg. At first, she devoted her attention to completing her book. However, when it was done and delivered to the printers she suddenly found herself at a loss as to what to do. Tara knew she ought to turn her attention to writing her next 'masterpiece.' There were dozens of ideas scribbled in the tattered old exercise book she used for jotting down sudden flashes of inspiration - any one of which she could have expanded into the bare bones of a decent story. She found herself reluctant to summon the necessary enthusiasm to turn on her laptop and commence writing. For the first time in her life, writer's block was a decidedly unnerving experience. Writing was her livelihood and she couldn't help but feel an awful fear settling into mind. What if she could never write another story again? Not only would she be broke, she'd be completely miserable.

Such thoughts were enough to force Tara to bring her laptop to life and at least make a few attempts at writing something. However each time she managed only a few paragraphs - none of it was even worth saving. Most of her time was spent staring at the screen, willing herself to write something.

Her time was spent pacing the length of her small apartment, often pausing to stare at her computer as it sat on her desk. It remained there squat and lifeless, a constant reminder of her inability to string together coherent thoughts. Eventually it became too much for her to bear and she packed the damn thing away, tucking it beneath her desk where she would not have to look at it and be reminded of her writer's block.

With writing removed from her life, Tara found herself with too much time on her hands and absolutely nothing to do. The thought of calling Willow crossed her mind more than once but she stubbornly refused to give in to such impulses. As far as she was concerned whatever it was that she had shared with the redhead, was over. Although she was almost grateful that Willow was obviously thinking the same thing and did not call, she couldn't help but feel disappointed every time she picked up her ringing cell only to find that it was not the wayward redhead.

Tara's existence therefore consisted of lengthy walks to nowhere in particular and, once again, watching entirely too much Oprah. This time around she did throw in a little Ellen as well but found the blonde comedienne's demeanour far too chirpy for her own sour moods. Tara didn't quite realise it, but she had slipped right back into the despair that had followed Audrey's death. It was lightened only by the times in which she fell asleep and dreamed of being with Willow.


At the same time, Willow had spent the month in a manner that would have surprised herself had she stopped to really think about what she was doing. Instead of spending it alternating between being drunk, being stoned, being drunk and stoned or being hung-over, she became someone she didn't entirely recognise. The drastic changes in her life had commenced a few days after her honest and revealing conversation with Xander. It had been a revelation for her to finally acknowledge the fact that there was no way in hell anything was ever going to happen with Tara if she continued to be her same old, hopeless, arrogant and self-absorbed self. In fact, the Willow of old would have laughed to see herself running almost every day, staying clear of Imerst and buying magazines with articles on detoxing your body.

The one thing that was missing from the new Willow was the very reason for her sudden madness, Tara. She had not called the blonde and it took her a good three weeks after their disastrous brunch date before she gathered up the nerve to walk into a book store and look for one of her books.

It was a particularly nasty Saturday morning, with the wind already whipping up towards gale force, when Willow was blown into Whitcoulls bookstore. She must have looked out of place because a sales assistant immediately asked if she needed any help. Willow scanned the store to find books spread out in every direction, she hadn't imagined that it would be possible for there to be so many books in one place. She turned to the assistant gratefully.

"Ummm…yeah…do you have any books by Tara Maclay?" Willow asked tentatively.

"We certainly do!" the assistant replied in an overly chirpy tone.

Willow followed obediently in her wake as she led her further into the store. She didn't have far to go at all before the assistant came to a stop in front of a display stand with a pleased smile on her face. It was then that Willow glanced at the cover of each book to see 'Tara Maclay' embossed on them in bold lettering. Her eyes widened in shock as she counted four different titles, Land of Fire, Upon a Strange Shore, Passion in a Distant Land and Loss of Innocence. Each cover was adorned with a suitably solemn and expectant looking young woman – the type who was bound to find herself in peril in the opening pages and require the assistance of a swarthy, resourceful young man. Willow reached out and picked up the nearest book, it was certainly thick and heavy.

"Have you read any of her work?" The sales assistant interrupted Willow's silent staring as she also picked up one of the books.

"Ah, no," Willow replied. She flicked to the back page and saw that the book ran to an alarming 512 pages. She wondered just how many years it would take her to read and, just for a moment, if Tara was worth it. "I'm not really much of a reader."

"Well, don't let the covers fool you. They're not trashy by any stretch of the imagination. I've read them all and she's a fantastic writer. I would recommend you start with this one."

Willow found a copy of Passion in a Distant Land pressed into her hands and she glanced down at it. For some reason the heroine on the cover reminded her of Tara even though she had raven black hair. She wore a poignant expression that was reminiscent of one she had caught Tara wearing during their brunch. It had been wiped quickly of course, replaced by her refreshing smile…but there was something there that Willow was sure held a secret. The memory of the smile was enough to remind Willow that her efforts might be worth something.

"I might just take a copy of each," Willow announced emphatically. The surprised assistant handed her the other three books. Together they made up a rather weighty armload. "If they stink, at least they'll make great door stops."

A rather triumphant Willow took her purchases to the counter. The young woman at the desk greeted the books with a similar enthusiasm to the first. "Oh I just love Tara Maclay's books. Are you a fan? You must be if you're buying all four! "

Willow smiled and replied cryptically, "Not yet, but I'm sure I will be."

Oh my god, I seriously cannot believe I am doing this! Willow thought to herself just an hour and a half later as she folded herself onto her leather couch with a blanket and a cup of tea. Half an hour's worth of reading time had already been lost to trying to find her reading glasses, an item she always denied needing. Now with her glass perched on her nose, she half-heartedly wondered if she ought to don a cardigan and a pair of slippers to complete her grand-motherly appearance.

An indeterminate amount of time passed during which Willow managed to completely lose herself in Tara's writing. Although it was the type of story that she would have previously professed to hate, and probably still hated, the way it was told had her completely captivated. So much so that she lost herself in the flow of words on the page. It was only the harsh sound of her cell phone ringing that drew her out of that world and back to her own. She glanced at the screen to see it was Xander. Had it been anyone else she would have promptly switched the phone off.

"Will, what the fuck are you doing?" Xander did not even bother with a hello.

"Reading," Willow replied succinctly. She folded the corner of the page over to mark her place and set the book down reluctantly.

"No, seriously, what are you doing?" Xander repeated.

"I'm reading." This time Willow placed a little more emphasis on the word 'reading'. "Seriously."

"One of Tara's books?" Xander suddenly remembered. "Damn, I thought you were joking, but then again, you've been pretty weird lately. I feel like I'm just your personal trainer, I only get to spend time with you when we're in the gym. I get at least half a dozen people a night asking where the hell you are whenever I go to Imerst."

Willow shrugged. "Imerst just doesn't seem like a place I wanna be at the moment. It's always the same poseurs drinking the same old shit and doing the same drugs."

"Okay, who are you and what the fuck have you done with Willow Rosenberg?" Xander demanded in a thoroughly unimpressed voice. "Just last month, you were one of those poseurs, and you were fun, not like the boring old loser you are now."

"Hey, you've been on at me for ages to clean up my act!" Willow protested.

"Will, I'm joking!" Xander said emphatically.

Willow sighed; she knew he missed his best friend. However their separation was for a good cause. Despite Xander's best intentions, the world of dance parties and clubs was his world too. Willow did not want to ask him to give it all up because she knew full well he would do it just for her. A part of her hoped that she could one day achieve her best friend's maturity and restraint when it came to alcohol and drugs. However, she knew that it was far better to avoid the temptation altogether.

Just one night out? Willow could feel it already. The incessant beat of the bass, the bodies pressed up against her own and the buzz of intoxication flowing throughout her body. She could picture it in her mind too. Imerst, packed to the walls with women wearing variations of the same skimpy dress, her hands exploring the soft flesh of a thigh and her lips leaving a trail of moisture on a long neck.

"Will?" Xander interrupted her thoughts. "Are you still there?"

Willow shook her head to clear her mind but she could not ignore the taunt feeling in her gut. A feeling made all the worse when she realised she hadn't had sex since her one night stand with Tara five weeks earlier. Holy fuck, I need to get laid. I'm going insane. Willow sighed again. She wasn't about to let herself be ruled by her raging libido.

"I'm sorry, Xander," Willow tried to think of other ways she could make it up to him. The only option she could think of was decidedly unpalatable in her thinking, but if it would mean getting back on his good side she was prepared to do it. "Okay, you know how you've been on at me for ages to go to a rugby game…"

"Oh Will!" Xander interrupted, his voice as giddy as a ten year old child's. "You'd do that, just for me?"

Willow hated rugby with a passion. She viewed it as hordes of barbarians throwing themselves at one another for an ultimately futile outcome. There were few things in life more tedious than watching an entire rugby game. She therefore had to suppress a grimace as she replied, "Yes."

"Great! The All Blacks are playing the Aussies at the end of the month. I'll get us tickets!" Xander continued.

"Oh no you won't," Willow was quick to say. There was no way in hell she would risk being buffeted by rain and wind should the weather turn out to be awful on the night. "I'll make a few calls and see if I can get a corporate box. That way you can invite a few friends that actually like rugby." And if I have to suffer, at least I'll be warm!

"Well, it would have been just as good with the two of us but hey, if you're paying then I'm in!"

Willow sighed. It would be worth a small amount of discomfort to see her friend happy. She also had to admit that being a reclusive hermit didn't really agree with her. "Okay…are we good?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure, as if we weren't! What are you doing with yourself anyway?" he asked, his tone slightly suspicious. "Why the hell are you reading Tara's books when you should just be calling her?"

"I just figured a little time to sort myself out was needed before I talk to her again," Willow replied. "Admit it, I'm not exactly the most well-balanced person."

"I don't wanna say anything I might regret!" Xander laughed lightly. "Just make sure you don't wait too long before calling her. She might forget who you are."

"After all I've done to her, I don't think there's a chance in hell of that happening," Willow replied honestly.


With Tara having well and truly slipped into another depressed funk, Faith realised that it was again up to her to do something about it. First and foremost, she was concerned about Tara but she was also rather annoyed at the fact that she had become exceptionally boring as well as depressing. Faith also knew exactly who was to blame for Tara's relapse - that walking disaster area that went by the name of Willow Rosenberg.

She conveniently forgot that she was partially responsible for Tara's continued association with Willow and devised an entirely new approach. Her initial plan was rather simple, she asked Tara to meet her at work one Friday evening under the pretext that they would then go out for a quiet coffee and a movie. However she deliberately omitted the part where it was the sixtieth birthday celebration for one of the partners at her law firm. The trap was set.

When Tara stepped out of the elevator and into the spacious foyer of the offices of Buddle Findlay and Partners, casually dressed in jeans, a plain top and her favourite pair of leather boots, she found a rather raucous party in full swing. Faith's firm was ordinarily made up of a bunch of rather serious, industrious, sober hard workers but when the occasion called for it they could loosen their ties and sing bad karaoke like the most seasoned socialites.

"Faith!" Tara snapped with alarm when she spied her friend walking towards her with a broad smile on her face. Karl was at her side. Over the past few weeks, they were seldom apart. Tara was so caught up in her own world that she didn't even think to congratulate herself on her match-making skills.

"Hey Tara," Karl smiled warmly.

"Hey," Tara flashed him a quick smile in return, she didn't intend to be rude but she was more interested in escaping from the scene into which she had inadvertently walked. She seized Faith by the elbow and steered her back towards the elevator. The doors had just closed, making a quick getaway impossible. "What the hell is this? You said coffee and a movie! This is not coffee and a movie!"

"I'd be lying if I said I forgot it was my boss's birthday tonight," Faith admitted, hardly ashamed of herself. "But I'd also be lying if I said you haven't been the most depressing, sad sack on the face of the planet lately!"

Tara responded by immediately turning to jab the 'down' button repeatedly.

It was then Faith's turn to seize Tara's elbow and steer her back towards the throng of people. "Oh no you don't, there's someone I want you to meet."

Ignoring Tara's feeble protests, Faith refused to let go of her elbow and dragged her through the crowd of half-drunk lawyers. Several of them knew Tara already and she had to respond with a forced smile as they called out greetings and tried to elicit promises of a karaoke duet later in the night. Despite the fact that she could carry a tune rather nicely, Tara couldn't think of anything worse.

Finally Faith spied her intended target, a young, dark-haired woman who was seated on a couch, away from the most raucous revellers. She was talking in an animated manner until she saw Faith approach with Tara in tow. Her conversation faded as she stopped talking altogether and was left with a slightly gaping mouth. Tara being her usual self, completely failed to realise that the woman had been struck speechless at the sight of her.

"Tara, this is Grace Palmer. She's recently joined us from our Auckland office." Faith continued with the introductions. "Grace, I'd like you to meet my very best friend, Tara Maclay."

Grace obviously suddenly realised that she was sitting, staring at Tara with her mouth open. She then stood up a little too hastily, extending her hand out towards Tara.

"Nice to meet you." Tara accepted her hand and immediately found her hand seized in a firm grip and pumped a little too enthusiastically. "Um…so, you're from Auckland?"

"Guilty as charged!" Grace chirped in reply. "I'm sure you guys don't welcome the appearance of another JAFA* in Wellington but I hope you don't hold that against me?"

"I'm sure I won't," Tara replied politely.

"Great!" Faith clapped her hands together. "I knew you guys would hit it off straight away. Why don't you both stay right here…and I'll see about getting some more drinks?"

Before Tara could protest, Faith whisked herself away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Tara standing alone in the corner of the room with Grace. The others she had been talking to had since moved away too and they were quite by themselves. Tara turned to Grace to find her with an apologetic smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, Tara. I think she's trying…" Grace paused as though she was too polite to continue.

"To set us up?" Tara finished. When Grace laughed lightly she did too and the awkwardness between the two of them dissipated somewhat. "Yeah, she's annoying like that."

"Tell me about it!" Grace agreed. "I think I mentioned in passing a week or so ago something about my ex-girlfriend and she was all of a sudden mentioning the name 'Tara' whenever we had a conversation. Tara this and Tara that, and 'oh, you have to meet my friend Tara' and eventually I did have to agree to meet you just to get her to shut up. I wasn't going to be here tonight…not really a party person and all but she can be awfully persuasive."

"Yes," Tara caught sight of Faith across the room, obviously making no attempt to return with drinks, and narrowed her eyes theatrically. "She can be."

Grace laughed and continued, "I just didn't realise that 'Tara' would turn out to be the gorgeous blonde standing in front of me now."

Still looking across at Faith, Tara caught the words 'gorgeous blonde' and turned back to face Grace. There was a slight reddish tint to her cheeks as though it had taken some courage on her part to actually say those words. Tara quickly felt a matching heat rise in her own cheeks and she ducked her head slightly. However when she brought her gaze back up she had to admit that she didn't notice just how stunning Grace was, especially in the smartly tailored suit that flattered her rather thin, angular body. Her hair was so dark it verged on being black but her blue eyes were light enough to be called grey. The combination gave her appearance a slightly unnerving quality and yet when she smiled, that feeling disappeared altogether. Tara's interest was piqued. Enough at least for her to forget about being angry at Faith for the whole set up and listen intently to every word that came out of Grace's mouth. While the dark-haired woman had professed to disliking parties, she had no difficulty holding a conversation.

Tara was soon laughing and talking in reply, for the first time since her ill-fated brunch with Willow, she found herself thoroughly enjoying the company of another woman. It took her a while, but she soon realised that Grace was flirting with her. Tara had almost forgotten what it felt like. It had been years since her first meeting with Audrey, and Willow didn't have to flirt. The redhead simply and boldly made her intentions clear. Real, honest flirting was the simple little hints dropped into conversation, and the unnecessary physical contact – just small touches to the back of her hand or on her elbow – that made Tara realise what was happening. The realisation caused her to shut down a little, she was unsure if this was the direction she wanted to take so soon after Willow.

Stop it you idiot, there was never anything between you and Willow! It was a one night stand that led to several successive disasters and nothing more! Tara thought with a slight ache to her gut. There is no way in hell that I still want something to happen with her! It took her a moment to realise that Grace's laughter had faded out and she was looking on with a concerned expression.

"Hey, you're looking a little pale," Grace commented in a gentle voice. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Um, yeah." Tara pressed a hand to her forehead as though she was developing a headache. "I might just get a taxi home-"

"I'll drive you!" Grace interrupted, a little too quickly. She paused and smiled apologetically as if she realised how her enthusiasm would seem to Tara. "Sorry…it's just that it's a Friday night and I know everyone is trying to catch a taxi at this time, you might have a long wait. Um, I've been on nothing but diet coke all night so you'll be safe with me."

Tara managed a smile, Am I really safe with you? Throughout the evening, Grace had made her interest clear, so clear that even a social introvert like Tara had picked up on it straight away. She knew she ought to be flattered. Grace was a stunning, intelligent woman with no obvious flaws other than the fact she wasn't Willow Rosenberg. "Um…that would be really nice of you."

From across the room, she motioned to Faith that she was leaving. Her friend glanced at her and then to Grace and nodded enthusiastically. Tara glanced back towards Faith and Karl while she was waiting at the elevator and saw them talking animatedly. No doubt they were congratulating themselves on a successfully orchestrated hook up.

Tara said little throughout the drive to her apartment; she listened to Grace talk and injected the appropriate noises of interest or agreement at all the right moments. It was only when they neared their destination that she realised just how rude and aloof she must have sounded. Although Grace seemed either not to notice, or was too polite to comment on her silence, Tara felt awful. For the last few minutes of their drive she made an effort to smile warmly and respond with more than just a simple 'yes' or 'no.'

"This is me here," Tara indicated her building and Grace drew the car to the side of the road. She kept her eyes out the window as they slowed to a halt, not daring to look across at the other woman for fear of the connotations evident in such a glance. "Well, thanks for the ride."

The situation in the car suddenly became awkward, Tara wanted to open the door and simply get out. However she felt Grace's gaze on her and knew full well that she was sitting there with some sort of expectation despite her strange behaviour. She turned her head slightly, at first just far enough to look down at her hands on her lap. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a slight movement as Grace leaned in towards her. She felt a pair of soft lips graze her cheek before pulling away. At that point Tara turned, surprised by such fleeting, and yet tender contact. There was a moment's hesitation on her part before she leaned in, this time initiating a soft kiss. Grace's lips parted with a sigh and her hand lightly cupped the back of Tara's neck.

Grace was grinning when they drew apart a few seconds later. She spoke softly, "Had I know how this would turn out I would have asked Faith to introduce us sooner."

Tara couldn't think of anything to say in response, she simply smiled as she opened her door and slid out of the car, she leaned back down to see Grace's grin still firmly in place and said the only thing she could think of saying in the situation, "So…I guess I'll see you again?"

"You can count on it," Grace replied.

Tara closed the door and gave a little wave as Grace's car pulled back out onto the road and off down the street. She remained standing on the footpath even after its taillights had disappeared over the hill. She pressed her fingers to her cheek where Grace had kissed her. Her heart continued to beat at a slowly and steady pace. It didn't hammer excitedly in her chest as it did whenever she laid eyes on Willow Rosenberg. Tara dismissed this thought as she finally turned to go inside, her reaction to Willow was simply a result of her being terrified of the redhead. That was all there was to it.

Grace was nice, and this was exactly what she told Faith when her friend called to check up on her an hour later. Grace was nice…

A/N *JAFA = "Just Another Fucking Aucklander" – the rest of New Zealand's polite way of acknowledging that there are too many people from Auckland, and that they are collectively disliked (although individually they're just fine!)