Disclaimer: I do not own Under the Tuscan Sun (okay, I do own a copy of it… and the audio book I bought in iTunes, but you know what I mean!) which was written by Frances Mayes and published by – my copy of it at least – Braodway Books in New York. This book is one of my all-time favorites and I think perfectly fits the Buffy/Tara relationship in this story… You'll see what I mean if you keep reading. PS: I highly recommend the audio book, it's fantastic!

March 31 – April 20, 2007

Ink Blots Chapter 14

"Black & Blue, Me & You",

How did I get here? Tara asks herself, How did this happen? Why did this happen?

The hall lay in front of her, short and dark, yet somehow unconquerable. What waited at the far end, beyond the door - was literally the fodder of her nightmares, keeping her up nights, denying her sleep. The long shadows from the weak lights making her feel as though she were walking her last steps before a dungeon – one she might no have the choice to leave. Taking the round, brass knob in her hand, she sighed a shuddering breath, readying herself for what she could only imagine lay beyond the threshold.

She could feel the presence of many people behind her, waiting at the mouth of the hall, watching her enter the room alone, into the darkness beyond the door. What lay waiting for her was a sight she knew she would never be ready for, but hadn't anticipated how greatly it would affect her. Feeling her knees weaken at the vision ahead, she leaned in support against the door, effectively shutting it behind her. Her eyes stung as they hurried to tears, her stomach balling into fists making her feel ill, she shook her head – knowing her voice had abandoned her.

"Buffy?" She rasped into the dark. She saw the shadows shift and felt her breathing hiccup violently as she tried to breathe. How did this happen?

Tara had been nervous from almost the moment she woke up. As soon as she remembered what she had Buffy had agreed upon the night before, her staying over, she completely froze. There she stood, in the communal bathroom, the sink running, toothbrush in mid stroke, and her mind frozen like a computer trying to process a flawed line of code. Second thoughts? Hell yes! But the next one after that would go back to thinking that Buffy spending the night was a good idea. Well… maybe not a good idea, but – not a bad one!... Back and forth, torn between crippling nervousness and happy anxiety.

She'd spent the entire day getting ready in way or another. She did all her schools work, around straightening her room, which was already pretty clean. She changed the sheets on her bed, and took her clothes down to the Stevenson basement to wash. After making herself some lunch from some of the odds and ends in her fridge, she went back down to change her things over to the dryers. Counting out the quarters in her hand as she blindly walked towards the door to the basement, she heard someone call to her.

"Tara!" Okay… not just someone… "Tara, hey!" Buffy jogged over to her, slightly out of breath.

"Hey," She smiled, more shy than usual, and was thankful that Buffy didn't comment on it though she must have noticed.

"What're you doing?" she asked, hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder. It was large-ish, an old military-issue duffle.

"Laundry." Tara shrugged. For some reason, it was incredibly hard to get even a single word out. It might have something to do with the way she's dressed, Tara admitted. The shorter of the two women was wearing black spandex shorts, a baby blue tank-top, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail, her golden curls bouncing gently, barely against her shoulders as she stood there.

"Need any help?" Buffy offered, smiling. Her grin had a distinct hint of knowingness, which calmed Tara a little. Nervousness over nervousness was just a vicious circle. Tara laughed under her breath; once again amazed that Buffy had read her so wordlessly and could so easily excuse her neuroses. "Six flights is a lot of stairs, especially with a whole load of laundry…" Buffy offered understandingly. Buffy's been that a lot lately – Understanding? Tara pointed out to herself, and calmed yet some more.

"Thanks, but I'm just doing a change over. Got another hour left before The Long Hall…" She said, grinning jokingly. Buffy looked infinitely gladder to see it.

"Alright well…" She hitched the shoulder strap of her bag yet again and leaned in to give the Sorceress a lingering, closed-mouth kiss. "I actually have to run. Literally." She said, pulling back and indicating her outfit. "Giles wants to test my speed. Wants to see if I'm still in as good of shape as I was last year during… my Slayer Testing." There was a feeling of vagueness around that last part, but Buffy shook it off as Tara raised an eyebrow.

"But I wanted to ask you something!" Buffy added suddenly, dropping her bag on the ground. When she opened it, Tara held in the impulse to laugh. Inside were weapons, weapons, and more weapons. And a book apparently. Which Buffy held behind her back as she blushed, returning her focus to the woman in front of her. "Will you promise not to laugh at me?" she hazarded.

"Yes?"

"I kinda…" Buffy sighed and bowed her head a little. "I don't remember my life." She muttered quietly. "I've been spending my nights Slaying for so long… I kind of forgot what I'd do with them if I wasn't out prowling graveyards…" she laughed nervously, glancing away from Tara's face every few seconds. "I remembered, right when I was called in LA, my mother hosted her Book Club's meeting at our house. I came back from Slaying, after my curfew – and walked headfirst into her Book Club meeting, which had run late. She grounded me, said I was forbidden to leave the house unless for school or cheerleading." She held the book in front of her now, rolling it up almost like a newspaper, the soft-cover volume warn with use already.

"Willing to take any excuse for a night away from the freak show my life had become, I spent the night at home as per my mother's orders. A few women from the book club left their copies on our coffee table, we had, like, six different copies of the same book!..." She trailed off suddenly, her tone changing to something Tara hadn't heard before. "For lack of a better idea of how to spend my evening, I picked up one of the books someone left and started reading it." She finally released the tough grip she'd be subjecting her book to, holding it up to Tara. Under the Tuscan Sun.

"Under the Tuscan Sun?" Tara asked, reading the cover. "I'm not familiar with it." This made Buffy smile a little.

"It's about a woman deciding to buy an abandoned Villa in Italy…" suddenly she had a slightly conspiratory grin on her face. "The descriptions of the landscape and the people became… much better escapism than TV could ever be. Whenever Slaying gets to be more than I think I can handle… I'll read parts of it. And it makes me feel better. It's like a stress-reset-button." Suddenly the redness in Buffy's cheeks became noticeably more apparent. "I was thinking maybe, we could read it to each other?" She asked hesitantly. "I know you're a Literature major, and… I dunno. This book really reminds me of you. Or you remind me of it – either way! Thinking of one leads to thoughts of the other." She trailed off.

"Sure." Tara said quickly, intrigued by it already and by Buffy's attachment to it. "But may I ask – What made you think of this?" the color in her cheeks that had faded after she'd give the OK returned.

"Can I explain it later?" Buffy asked quietly.

"A hint?" Tara pleaded, not used to being the less shy of the pair but enjoying it somewhat, nonetheless.

"Okay… Partly? Your voice." She said solidly, after a deep breath to calm herself. "I wanted an excuse to hear your voice for an extended period of time. Ideally I would have found a way to get you to sing to me all night, but that would have been really one-sided." She was playful again.

"My voice?" she asked, disbelieving. The blonde nodded, stepping closer, into Tara's personal space. She glanced around them, and lowered her voice a little.

"Do you remember what I told you last night?" she almost whispered, "What I could sense stirring inside of you?" Tara shivered, feeling her hart pumping hard inside her chest, "That night you sang to me? At Giles' house?" she locked eyes with the Wicca and held her attention firmly. "Had the same effect on me." Tara gulped, and blushed when she realized that Buffy probably heard it.

"Your voice has the uncanny ability to arouse me, sexually or not." She grinned, "Combined with the material in this book? I cannot think of any better way to spend an evening… as Victorian as the prospect may sound." Tara closed her eyes and willed her thumping heart to calm. "And the rest I will have to explain at a later date. After you've read some of the book… if you still want to?" Tara nodded, finally opening her eyes.

"It sounds fine." She said, realizing too late that her voice was higher than it should have been. She held the book out.

"Do you mind if I give it to you now? Just so I don't risk leaving it at Giles' after I go Slaying." Tara took it, fingers gently fingering the cover as she read one of the reviews on the back.

"Sure. Sounds… good." She said, trying to regain herself.

"Tara?" Buffy said, laying a hand on her cheek. "I promise. Just reading. My hand to god." She said, chuckling as she actually raise a hand in front of herself in a kind of stationary wave, pulling her bag back over her shoulder. "You don't need me to stick around to remind you to breathe, do you?" she joked, smiling. Tara blushed.

"I could have used that advice once or twice earlier today, but… I think I'll be alright now." Buffy leaned in to kiss her again, deeper this time, slower and more drawn out.

"Glad to hear it." She whispered before pulling all the way back.

"See you later?" Tara checked.

"That's the plan." The smaller blonde's grin was almost ridiculously happy. "Have fun with laundry."

"Have fun with weapons." Tara shot back, laughing a little. Buffy waved as she walked backwards out of the building. As Tara changed her clothes over to the dryer and thumbed in the quarters, she had a few long moments of Why is Buffy so happy with me? What the hell is it that I'm doing that seems to captivate her? My voice isn't that nice… I don't even know if I consider all that nice in the first place…

She wasn't kidding herself - she knew that part of the reason she felt so flustered about Buffy actually being attracted to her was because she couldn't think of anything she was consciously doing to attract the Slayer… and because she couldn't see anything about herself as inherently attractive. Not that she minded Buffy liking her. But she'd liked people before, and they'd never shown even the slightest inclination back towards her… I guess I'm just not used to it, she surmised.

After finishing the last of her work, putting her books away, collecting her clothes – folding them, putting them away, etcetera – she realized the flaw in her plan. It was only six-o'clock. She had four hours before Buffy was supposed to show up and absolutely nothing left to do between then and now. So she decided she'd take a nap – in case she was too anxious to sleep later that night with someone else in her bed… especially since the someone else was going to be Buffy. The Slayer.

Setting her clock so she would have an hour before she showed up, Tara pulled her throw blanket over herself and nodded off with little difficulty. She woke up on time, and spent almost forty minutes – on and off - debating with herself weather she should already be in her sleeping clothes before Buffy showed up before deciding on YES. That way she wouldn't have to change in front of her, or have to leave the room awkwardly to do so.

Nine Fifty. Nine Fifty-five, Fifty-nine, then Ten o-clock. Ten-o-one. Ten-Ten. Eleven-PM. When an hour past the agreed time came and went, Tara's nervousness had completely drained out of her. She'd been too nervous all day, she couldn't sustain it any longer. But she started looking at the clock what felt like twice as often – which was saying a lot, Tara thought. After the wait she'd felt all day, these hours seemed unnaturally long. But midnight passed and then One-AM, and Tara couldn't help feeling tears creep out of the corner of her eyes.

She didn't show… Well, I hope you're happy, Tara, you got what you wanted – she's gone! You hated how nervous she made you – well now she's not here to make you nervous anymore. Poof! Wish granted! Her angry, bitter self muttered within the confines of her own brain. But this isn't what I wanted… the rest of her countered, I wanted to be with her, I wanted her to like me, I just… didn't want to be so confused about the why portion of it. Tara wasn't a fool. She knew that if Buffy was going to show up at all, it would have happened before now. But still she soldered on, determined to stay awake in case Buffy showed – had some kind of explanation. She didn't make it to three-AM though. Funny thing about being that nervous for that long… it's really, really tiring.

The sound of her dorm-phone ringing woke her up. Slowly stumbling blindly towards the offending noise, Tara picked up the receiver as she rubbed her sleep-filled eyes. Holding the receiver to her ear, she croaked out a sleepy "Hello?"

"Uh, Tara?" It took her a minute to recognize the voice as belonging to Willow. With that came flooding back the memories of the night before and Buffy not showing up. Not just showing up late, not just not calling, but not showing up at all and not calling, and here she was getting mysterious calls from Buffy's best friend early in the morning?

"Willow?" Tara asked back into the phone, not knowing what she could possibly say to her right now, at this hour… glancing at the clock she saw it was now almost ten in the morning. Okay, so not actually all that early… Tara amended.

"Uhm, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but…" Willow sounded almost painfully uneasy. "Well, we're supposed to meet at Giles' at Ten." Tara blinked. "Could you just pass on the reminder?"

"What?"

"Buffy asked Xander to come pick us up so he could drive us, and well… I just – well if she's still asleep, she should get up. He's gonna be here in a few minutes."

"Willow, what're you talking about?" Tara asked slowly.

"What?" Willow asked back, "Did you not want Buffy to tell me she was staying over with you? She just didn't want me to worry when she didn't come home!" Willow insisted, "And to, you know, let me know I could have Oz over if I wanted because she was gonna be out – "

"Willow, Buffy's not here." Tara cut in quickly.

"Look, Tara, I'm sorry if my knowing makes you feel uncomfortable – I'll try to forget, I promise. And I didn't tell Xander or Oz, so you don't have to – "

"Willow, Buffy's not here!" Tara said a little louder. Willow was quiet for a second.

"In the shower?" she ventured, hesitantly.

"No." she responded quickly, "She didn't' come back to her room at all last night?"

"No, never, I was here all night."

"Is it possible she knocked, or… heard you in there with… and left?" she ventured, unable to control the worry in her voice.

"No, Oz was out of town with his band, recording new songs for their next tape." She sighed heavily, "Did she stop by your room at all last night?"

"No, not even to check in. I was up most of last night waiting for her to show but…" Tara trailed off, her heart hammering. This wasn't good. She heard something happening on the other end of the line.

"Xander just arrived." Willow warned her, and she could here them talking to one another away from the mouth piece. Xander sounded worried too. "We're going to drive over to Giles' now, find out if he's heard from her or seen her at all since yesterday," Willow said, all business, obviously ready to be on her way.

"Take me with you?" Tara pleaded quickly.

"You ready to go?" Willow asked, doubtful.

"I will be. Give me less than a minute." And she hung up. It was mildly impolite, but she didn't' care just then. Changing so fast she practically tore her pajamas off herself, she grabbed her coat and bag and was out the door and on Willow's floor before Xander and Willow reached the stairwell. Jogging out front to the young man's double-parked car, they quickly climbed in and shot over to the Watcher's house.

Bursting through the door without warning or a knock, the vision that greeted Tara was not one of comfort. Giles had been sleeping, sitting up at his desk, the large MediKit open next to him, wrappers for gauze and bandages strewn here and there, the contents of the box more empty than not. There was dried blood around and under his fingernails and in the creases of his knuckles. The three teenagers froze as Giles' tired head shot up. Frozen there in the entrance to the living room, they all silently stared at one another, unwilling to ask questions for fear of the answers. A Long moment passed.

"What happened?" Tara finally asked, her voice hollow and quiet. Giles threw a pair scissors into the MediKit angrily and slammed it shut, picking up the garbage littered around from the used bandages.

"More important than what happened is what didn't happen." He said, dropping the box on the counter to his kitchen. He intentionally kept his back to them. "She didn't die. Though that may have been sheer, dumb luck." He muttered. A collective sigh rang through all their minds, but not all worry left them. "She also refused to go to the Hospital." It was almost a growl. None of them could see the older man's face, but the tight fists he held on the counter revealed his anger. The three youths exchanged glances.

"She insisted that she didn't need it, she'd be fine to go back to the dormitories within a couple hours after a bit of rest." Giles answered their silent question. He obviously didn't believe her then, and felt vindicated now, as she had obviously not recovered so quickly. "I'll go let her know you're here. Then maybe you can convince her to seek help." He said, walking down the short hall to his guest room.

Willow, Xander and Tara all exchanged glances. The guilt within Tara piled so high she felt physically ill. There was a crash of some kind and they could make out a muffled argument from the guest room. A few moments later, Giles returned - looking just as annoyed and at the end of his rope.

"What happened?" Willow asked, her tone almost suspicious.

"She doesn't want to see you, she says." He ran a hand roughly through his hair. "She insists that she's fine, and that you all will just over-react to seeing her the way she is. So she wants you to just go home and she'll see you in a couple of hours." He was obviously parroting the words, and not happy about it. His eyes fell on Tara with a sort of angry desperation and the girl nearly fainted with panic. He blames me for this too! They all know it's my fault she got hurt!

"Tara, please, for the love of god go talk some sense into her, will you?" he pleaded. "She will listen to you," he insisted, "She needs medical care – beyond what I may provide!" he sounded guilt-ridden as well.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked. He sighed.

"I think internal bleeding, but she won't allow me to look. She keeps insisting that she's fine…" Tara felt so cold, suddenly. "I don't know how bad it is, or even how bad it was when she sustained it - and if her body isn't able to heal it on it's own, then the longer she doesn't receive care the more likely it is she could die." he ranted, obviously angry and scared. "Please Tara, just speak to her." For the second time in two days, the Sorceress could feel herself audibly gulp.

"W-Why me?" she asked, her voice a bit squeaky with nervousness. Giles simply looked at her over the rims of his glasses quietly, not saying a word. Tara blushed. "Right… N-No pressure." She mumbled. As she took small steps towards the entrance of the narrow hallway to the guest room, she felt overtaken with anxiety. Not the good kind this time. Her head filled with deathly images as she marched the line, of dungeons and torture and things from her childhood nightmares…

As she opened the door with shaking hands, the saw the lamp go out as soon as she'd cracked the door. The only light in the room came from the street out the window, peeking in through the slats of the blinds. Ribbons of weak yellow light striped the wall and the corner of an old, oak headboard. The lamplight wasn't strong enough to illuminate the room, only making some shadows blacker than the rest, but Tara could make out shapes.

She could see a figure on the bed, laid back and covered, a leg propped up on something under the sheets, the shape of the head out of sync with what she remembered the Slayer's head looking like. She saw the figure try to shrink down lower on the bed, to lay flatter, so as to move further away from the beams of light above her head. Tara's nerves got the better of her and she felt her knees go weak at what she knew must lay ahead of her. In an attempt to find support in the door, she'd slammed it shut behind her so she might lean on it.

"Buffy?" she asked into the dark. Her voice was raspy, she knew. Perhaps she didn't want to ask, because she didn't want an answer, she didn't want this to be real – to have actually have happened. Why did this have to happen? She asked herself, yet again. She still received no reply, from god above nor from the figure on the bed. She tried to take a deep breath to collect herself but it hiccupped in her throat.

Steeling herself, she quickly made for the window, hoping to open the blinds a little for some light, and so she wouldn't be facing what she knew must lay on the bed. Her hand wrapped around the chord, breathing shallow through her open mouth, she counted down from three in her head. Before she could finish she heard it.

"Wait!" came suddenly, hesitantly. "Don't. Just – please don't?" the figure asked quickly, voice quiet. She sounded terrified. "Don't look at me." She whispered. Tara walked towards where she knew the bed must be in the dark. She sat stiffly on the edge of it.

"I could open the shades," she started, looking at the shadows that she knew made up the Slayer. She held out her hand in a way that she hoped looked resolute. She knew Buffy could see in the dark. "But I want you to give me back the bulb from the light."

"How did-?" Buffy asked, sounding surprised.

"If you're this determined for me not to see you, you wouldn't have made it so easy as to flip a switch." Whatever she said must have convinced the smaller woman of something, because a long moment later she felt the glass bauble pressed into her palm. Reaching out blindly, she felt for the light and slowly screwed in its bulb. As it flickered in to life Tara turned herself on the bed so she was facing away from the blonde.

"I told Giles to tell you to leave." The way she said it made Tara think that maybe she was reconsidering it now, though it had hardness – almost annoyed. "I heard him tell you."

"We aren't going to leave you just because you tell us to. Especially when you're hurt."

"I heard Giles ask you to talk me down."

"I'm here because I want to be." Tara said firmly. "I'm here because if you're in pain, I want to comfort you. If you're in danger, I want to save you. That second one is something I know I'm not going to get many chances at, you being the Slayer and me just being a low-level witch, so I'm taking this rare opportunity – and I agree with Giles." She cut off her own rant suddenly. "I think, you must need Medical attention if you're so determined to keep us at arm's length."

"You're not stuttering." Buffy pointed out, tone so calm it sent shivers down Tara's spine.

"W-W-Well now that you've p-pointed it out…" She stammered knowingly. She expelled a short breath through her nose angrily. I knew that would happen!

"Thank you for respecting my wishes."

"I'm n-not." She was shocked to hear her voice sounding angry. She hardly ever felt angry, and could hardly remember the last time she'd let it show. "I'm just w-w-waiting to calm down en-enough before s-s-scaring myself again."

"Just try to keep in mind – bruises get darker as they heal."

"I know that." Tara muttered under her breath.

"I know," It was so quiet and pained, Tara almost turned to look at her, "I just don't like to think about it." A hand slips past the Wicca's elbow and over her forearm, trying to hold her hand. The knuckles are red and broken, and already Tara doesn't want to imagine the hell of a fight this must have been sustained during, but she's getting mental flashes and feels ill.

"Do you want to know what held me up?" Buffy asked quietly. Tara sighed. She did once, but now she doesn't want to think about it.

"Not especially." She answered, voice just as soft.

"I'll not repeat the details, they're not exactly heroic or entertaining… more chance and simple luck." She muttered bitterly.

"Why?"

"Do you want to know what happened?" Tara paused, If for no other reason than to pass the time before I have to look at how badly she's been beaten.

"Yes." She took the hand in hers, and held it as firmly as she thought kind considering it's injury.

"After I left you, I came here to train with Giles. He timed me running, how many push-ups I could do – things like that." She sighed at this. "It was still very light out then, and I went over to Willie's Pub to talk to him. Found the location of a few nests where Vamps have been hiding out during the day. Mausoleums in the older cemeteries with the windows boarded up, over-flow chambers in the sewers, a cave out by Breaker's Woods, all of them safe places for vampires to hide during the day.

"The only real hitch is," And Tara could half hear a smirk in her voice at this, "They become a prison if they're attacked in them – because they can't leave, the sunlight outside holds them there. Well, I had amazing luck at first, all the hideouts were exactly where Willie told me they'd be. Each had about three or four vampires in them, not too much of a challenge but quick, clean, and easy." Buffy cleared her throat and her voice changed a little.

"When I got to the over-flow chamber in the sewers, it didn't go over so well. Somehow, word must have gotten out that I was running a day-sift because I think half the vamps hiding in the Sunnydale Sewers were there waiting for me. They only had two in plain view to lure me into the alcove, then the rest blocked off all the exits." Her voice became raspy, scratched, and Tara knew she was still scared thinking about it.

"I still can't remember what happened. I don't know how I fended them off, how I got out of there in the state I was in, I just remember it being night, pulling myself out of a manhole, my whole body hurting and feeling broken, and limping the half-mile back to Giles' apartment." Tara leaned down and pressed the broken knuckles to her lips gently, gently soothing her fingers over them. "I know I took a serious hit to the back of the head, the bump is like a second nose it's so huge, but…"

"Buffy," Tara started, "You really need to see a doctor." She said solidly.

"I'm mostly healed already, Tara. It's just my leg and my hip, that's why I haven't gotten up. Giles thinks that my walking on them to get back to his place made them worse. But everything else is well on its way to mending – there's nothing doctors could do for me now that my body can't do for itself."

"At least to ease the pain," Tara tried to insist, not believing Buffy for a second. "Please?" Buffy just chuckled.

"Giles has plenty of drugs left over from his Watcher days, he just couldn't give them to me because of my head injury. I had a pretty serious concussion from that blow to the head." Tara looked down at the hand she wanted to hold tightly in hers, partly in her own support – and found it healed. The skin on the knuckles was restored, pink and clean. Buffy saw her notice and laughed.

"My favorite nurse."

"But Buffy," Tara turned around, forgetting for a moment what would lay in front of her when she did. "…Holy lord."

Buffy had a bandage wrapped around the crown of her head, partly holding on a pad of gauze over her right eye. She had a dark, blue and black bruise covering her chin and the left corner of her mouth. One of her cheekbones was swollen slightly and there were marks on her neck from someone trying to strangle her – Tara could make out the marks made from spaces between the fingers. The rest was covered, and she was partly thankful.

"Oh Buffy…" Tara trailed off, not knowing what to say. Buffy smiled a bit sheepishly.

"Hey - I'm okay." She insisted quietly, but honestly. "But, I could think of a few places you could kiss and make better," she joked playfully.

"But…" Tara wondered if she'd ever finish a sentence, Maybe – when I figure out what I'm supposed to say here!

"How can I reassure you?" she asked, frowning slightly. Tara noticed the bowl on the other side of the bed, a towel resting in reddish-brown water. "What's got you worried the most?" Buffy asked, trying to grab back her attention. She made a motion to indicate her face, trying to keep eye-contact with the taller blonde… This was only made more difficult by the fact that Buffy only had one eye uncovered right now.

"Your eye?" Tara said, not thinking very clearly. Buffy looked confused for a second, reaching up to touch the gauze-pad. She shook her head and sighed.

"It's not as bad as it looks." She insisted. Tara begged to differ – she could see where the blood had seeped through to stain the white cotton. "It's not actually my eye," Buffy clarified, "I got a couple of ugly-looking gashes over my eyebrow and Giles just didn't want to risk any kind of eye-infection or temporary blindness from getting blood in there…" rrrrrrrip!

Buffy grabbed the gauzed wrapped around her head like a sweatband and pulled – hard. It tore away and she balled it up in her hands before tossing in into the washbasin. Blinking a few times in the relative brightness of the dim room, the Slayer allowed her eye to focus before looking at her girlfriend.

"See?" it was true, the soft hazel eye looked the same as she remembered it. There were marks on the smaller woman's skin where the gauze had been, leaving tiny waffle-patterns and lines of overlap, but there was no denying that Slayer hadn't lied: those gashes were ugly. They were long, narrow, and deep, running from the center of her scalp-line to end of her right eyebrow. Tara's eyes watered.

"Those are going to scar, Darling." Tara tried to warn. Buffy let out a bubbling laughter and wondered if perhaps Giles had slipped her some painkillers.

"They won't. Trust me, I don't scar so easily. Remember my side?"

"I haven't uhm… really looked. Since I removed the stitches, I mean." She said nervously. Buffy smirked.

"No, but you've certainly touched." Tara felt her face burn. "Trust me, you'd never know… unless you want to check for yourself?" she offered temptingly. Tara closed her eyes, How can she be like this? Now? How is she doing this? "I don't think I've retained a single scar since I became the Slayer." She said thoughtfully.

"But what about your neck?" Tara asked before she could stop herself. She wasn't usually one to point out a person's flaws… or their lies. Buffy's hand flew up to her neck, covering the mark with a quiet snap! Tara raised an eyebrow at this reflex. When Buffy blushed, it made Tara nervous.

"That's complicated." She muttered. Tara, hesitant as she was to ask about Buffy's Slaying, had never felt so curious about this part of her girlfriend's life. "Let's just say I don't scar unless there's a lesson in it." She said with such pain and an ere of finality that – combined with the smaller woman's appearance – forced Tara to drop it. It was only merciful.

"What's wrong with your leg?" Tara finally asked, letting a small pointed silence pass between them.

"Broken, probably." Buffy muttered. "Though I think it might be ankle and not my leg – tore some tendons, broke some ligaments for sure - like I hyper-extended the angle of my foot." She said, bending her wrist in demonstration.

"And your hip?"

"Dislocated." She said with ease. "At least it's the popular theory. I must have popped it back in place before walking back, but it sure hurt like I knocked it out of joint. I think I might have chipped the socket because it ached like nothing on my way back here."

"Buffy if there are shards of your hip bone floating around in your leg, you need to have them removed!" She insisted suddenly. Buffy sighed, and pulled back the covers. Tara watched completely frozen. Everything happening in front of her struck her as so unbelievable it felt more like she was watching it happen to someone else. On TV. In some language she didn't understand.

Buffy reached for the fastenings on her running shorts and untied them, pulling them down a fair bit along with her underwear. Wow. That's a lot of naked… naked… uhh… that's just a lot of naked. She thought as the Slayer also lifted the hem of her shirt. Tara shook her gaze away from the soft curves of the Slayer's obviously strong, obviously perfect very lower abdominals, remembering that she was supposed to be looking at her hip.

"Maybe you're not as bothered by nakedness as I thought." Buffy said quietly, pointing out she'd seen where Tara's gaze initially landed. The skin on her face felt painfully hot with blush.

"Better you than me." Oh Goddess! Did I just say that? Oh no…

"Honey - I could say the same for you…" Buffy trailed off, biting the corner of her lower lip temptingly. Tara forced her gaze to return to the hip. It wasn't swollen and the bruise over the joint was purple and yellow, in the very final stages of healing. "You can touch it," Tara could hear her trying to keep her breathing even – it sounded too slow, forced. "It won't hurt anymore." Tara reached out.

Running the backs of her fingers over the bruise as lightly as possible, she could feel Buffy's skin tremble, the muscles trying not to jump at the light and what she assumed was a ticklish touch. She quickly abandoned that theory. Buffy let out a short, painfully shuddered breath, followed by a loud gasp. Quickly glancing up at her girlfriend's face she saw that the Slayer's eyes were fixed on her hand. She looked back down just in time to see those same lower – Very, Very Lower! – abdominal muscled give a solid flex before relaxing once more. ...What a rush!...

Tara could feel the tiny quakes in her fingers, and knew Buffy must have seen them as she was fixed on them, but (more confidently than she really was) laid her hand flat against the Slayer's belly. Her palm rest in the soft slope to the side of the blonde's slightly bruised hip, her fingertips just brushing against the top of a narrow hip bone. She could feel the muscles beneath it tremble like a hard heartbeat. Tara could feel herself almost hyperventilating, knowing it would have been silent were it not for Buffy's Slayer-hearing. The smaller woman let out a quiet noise, muffled by a bitten lower-lip and an obvious attempt to silence it. Then she did something she knew the Slayer would not be suspecting – She slid her hand up, and under her shirt.

"A-ha!" Tara said, almost angrily, pushing the smaller girl's clothes to the bottom of her breast to reveal her prize. Buffy groaned, and not in a good way. "I knew you were just trying to distract me." Buffy's mid-section was covered in dark, semi-circular spots of purple. Fist marks.

"They're healing!" Buffy insisted, trying to sit up more against the back of the bed. Tara reached out and slid her back down – though not much… even when injured Buffy was almost embarrassingly strong.

"And that?" she asked, pointing to a large, still slightly red portion just where the shirt once again re-appeared. Buffy part blushed, part smirked.

"That's a breast, Tara. You've got a lovely set of 'em, though it's nice to know you're curious about mine." Tara closed her eyes and shook her head. Sweet Hera, this girl… she trailed off. "Care to… fully assess the damage?" she asked flirtatiously.

"No." Tara said solidly, finally looking at the blonde once again. She was pouting. "Buffy-"

"Tara, yes, I was hurt – badly, I'll admit! But that is just my body reincorporating the blood that pooled there. It's just taking longer because, well… It was a really nasty bruise."

"You need a doctor!" Tara insisted.

"I need you to trust me!" She short back, for the first time looking serious. It gave the Sorceress pause. "I know you're scared, I don't blame you – if it were you in this situation I would have hog-tied you to get you to a doctor if necessary." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Giles is trained as a watcher, but that's all he is. He isn't a doctor and he isn't a Slayer – I am." She shook her head suddenly, "Well, okay, I'm not a doctor - But I think I know better than anyone what the best course of treatment is for my own body!" she reached out and took Tara's hand in both of hers.

"Buffy, I'm sorry but…" she stammered, "I can't risk it. I can't just sit here and chance the fact that you may be slowly killing yourself!" Buffy's face fell. Her face became expressionless but hardened. As Buffy let go of her hand, she suddenly wondered if perhaps she had made the wrong decision.

"Then I won't expect you to stay." She said, voice hallow. Tara felt so suddenly cold. She folded her hands into her lap and stared down at them. A minute that felt like a thousand passed. "Tell Giles I'm leaving in an hour. But not to the hospital." She said, and Tara knew it was a dismissal. She raised herself to her feet and felt ashamed of the heavy slouch in her back and shoulders.

"Buffy, I…" What, Tara? She asked herself, You were bluffing? You only want to make sure she's safe? Want her to still be alive tomorrow? Sorry you don't have more faith in her? Say anything! She doesn't, but she stands with her hand on the knob for an awkwardly long moment.

"I'll see you when I see you." Buffy says quietly, caringly, and yet still dismissively. Tara feels her eyes water and walks back down the hallway. I failed.

(To Be Continued…)

-VixenRaign-