TTFN - fic
Dec. 8th, 2010 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deird1This was written for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
still_grrr’s “Queen” challenge, for the song Another One Bites The Dust, and for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gg_83, who requested “Dawn after Tara’s death”.
Title: TTFN
Rating: PG
Word Count: 480
Summary: Grief always seems to work the same way.
TTFN
The girl who never was is missing the girl who should have been for always.
It sounds nice and poetic like that.
Mom died, and Buffy was there.
Buffy died, and Tara was there.
Tara died, and now there’s no-one.
Not Willow, who’s off in England getting better.
Not Buffy, as much as she tries. But she doesn’t understand.
There’s just the girl who never was, mourning for memories that never should have happened at all.
Grief always seems to be the same thing, over again.
She cries herself to sleep, but doesn’t cry much. There’s no Tara there, softly stroking her hair the way she did last time – and Buffy probably would, but it’s not something you ask, so she stays quiet and lets the tears roll onto her pillow unmentioned.
Grief seems to be the same thing, over again.
She does the dishes and remembers doing them, that summer, when Tara was never far away and everything was saying Buffy to her, instead of now, when the world is, always has been, Tara, and memories of her are everywhere.
They did the dishes every night, and one night she dropped a plate and Tara got suds all over her face, and that was the first time Dawn laughed.
Grief is the same thing, over again.
There’s no homework this time. Last time there was homework, eventually, with Willow, Tara, and Spike all helping. Willow knew math, Tara knew history, and Spike, weirdly, was good at english – but kept grumbling about American spelling and trying to make her switch.
It was almost like family, even though they weren’t one.
England, heaven, and who-knows-where. No family left. (Except her real one – and of course it’s important having Buffy there, it’s good, but it’s not… what she misses, right now.)
The girl who never was is missing a world that wasn’t what she missed, back then.
It’s a process. A continuous letting-go. “Tara” is too big an idea, so break it down.
Tara at the beach – gone. No trip this summer, like she was planning to ask for.
Tara’s shoes – gone. Not absentmindedly left near the couch again, ever again.
Tara at graduation – gone. She won’t be taking photos, or watching Dawn get any prizes.
Tara’s hugs –
Gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
All these tentative memories of things that hadn’t happened yet, fallen to dust as the world becomes a little bit less what she thought it would be.
It’s too much to take in, and every time she tries it’s all tears, and tension, and snot running down her face, and tears, and upset, she gets upset. It’s too much to think of like that.
Better to keep it nice and poetic. And tragic – but safe.
The girl who never was is missing the girl who should have been for always.
It sounds kinda pretty – doesn’t it?
still_grrr’s “Queen” challenge, for the song Another One Bites The Dust, and for gg_83, who requested “Dawn after Tara’s death”.Title: TTFN
Rating: PG
Word Count: 480
Summary: Grief always seems to work the same way.
TTFN
The girl who never was is missing the girl who should have been for always.
It sounds nice and poetic like that.
Mom died, and Buffy was there.
Buffy died, and Tara was there.
Tara died, and now there’s no-one.
Not Willow, who’s off in England getting better.
Not Buffy, as much as she tries. But she doesn’t understand.
There’s just the girl who never was, mourning for memories that never should have happened at all.
Grief always seems to be the same thing, over again.
She cries herself to sleep, but doesn’t cry much. There’s no Tara there, softly stroking her hair the way she did last time – and Buffy probably would, but it’s not something you ask, so she stays quiet and lets the tears roll onto her pillow unmentioned.
Grief seems to be the same thing, over again.
She does the dishes and remembers doing them, that summer, when Tara was never far away and everything was saying Buffy to her, instead of now, when the world is, always has been, Tara, and memories of her are everywhere.
They did the dishes every night, and one night she dropped a plate and Tara got suds all over her face, and that was the first time Dawn laughed.
Grief is the same thing, over again.
There’s no homework this time. Last time there was homework, eventually, with Willow, Tara, and Spike all helping. Willow knew math, Tara knew history, and Spike, weirdly, was good at english – but kept grumbling about American spelling and trying to make her switch.
It was almost like family, even though they weren’t one.
England, heaven, and who-knows-where. No family left. (Except her real one – and of course it’s important having Buffy there, it’s good, but it’s not… what she misses, right now.)
The girl who never was is missing a world that wasn’t what she missed, back then.
It’s a process. A continuous letting-go. “Tara” is too big an idea, so break it down.
Tara at the beach – gone. No trip this summer, like she was planning to ask for.
Tara’s shoes – gone. Not absentmindedly left near the couch again, ever again.
Tara at graduation – gone. She won’t be taking photos, or watching Dawn get any prizes.
Tara’s hugs –
Gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
All these tentative memories of things that hadn’t happened yet, fallen to dust as the world becomes a little bit less what she thought it would be.
It’s too much to take in, and every time she tries it’s all tears, and tension, and snot running down her face, and tears, and upset, she gets upset. It’s too much to think of like that.
Better to keep it nice and poetic. And tragic – but safe.
The girl who never was is missing the girl who should have been for always.
It sounds kinda pretty – doesn’t it?