Red Christmas 1/?

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NOTES: I’ve got no idea where Tara (of Buffy) comes from, so I’ve assumed her father is in a senior position in the military in San Diego.

Bill Scully’s wife is also named Tara, just so you don’t get confused. The Tara from Buffy is already dead. I’ve assumed her last name is Braithwaite because I’ve got no idea what it is.

This is rough around the edges at the moment, but I figured I might as well post it anyway. Enjoy!

As soon as Scully entered her brother’s home, her sister in law Tara threw her arms around her. “Dana, it’s so good to see you” she smiled.

Her nephew tore down the corridor, and hugged her legs, as he couldn’t reach any higher. Scully squatted “How are you Matthew?” she asked. The four year old blushed and grinned, then sped back to his toys.

Scully unpacked her suitcase and arranged her toiletries on the dresser. Finally, she pulled out a small photo frame. On one side was Mulder, and on the other, Emily. She looked tenderly at her daughters face and brushed a tear from her cheek. Dana’s mum stuck her head in the door “Lunch is ready Dana” she said.

After lunch, Dana borrowed her brother’s car keys. After telling her relatives about a hundred times that she would prefer to visit Emily alone, she finally got going. The cemetery was bleak, even in the California sun. She slowly made her way over to where Emily, or rather a coffin full of sand, was buried. Finally she reached the small, white headstone that bore Emily’s name.

Scully placed a bouquet of baby’s breath on the grave, and squatted down as tears filled her eyes, the half-healed wounds of years ago reopened to gaping sores. “How’s heaven, baby?” she whispered, laying down with her head against the grass. She gave in to her emotions as her tears settled on the grass.

Willow shoved a $10 bill into the cab drivers hand and climbed out. She hadn’t been here since Tara’s funeral – it was not only painful, but an expense she couldn’t really afford. Buffy had insisted she be the one to go though, so here she was.

Palm trees lined the edges of the lawn cemetery, and there was a small, deserted office off to the left. Willow didn’t need directions though. She was still bitter, she realized, not only about Tara’s death, but about the way her relatives had acted - demanding the daughter they had practically disowned be returned to her home for burial. It didn’t matter that it was in the same state - it seemed like another planet. One small consolation was that Tara’s corpse was safe from the regular pandemonium at Sunnydale Cemetery.

Willow found Tara’s grave. The headstone was simple. It read “Tara Braithwaite: 1975 – 2002”. Willow wanted to weep, but something else was distracting her. The emotionally charged energy of graveyards made it hard to concentrate, but this was something more specific. She turned and looked around her, and noticed a red-haired woman hunched before one of the headstones in the next row. Willow’s instinct whispered in her ear. It was a child.

Not wanting to disturb the woman, Willow instead steeled her mind against the other woman’s agony and placed her bouquet of blood red roses and peony’s in Tara’s urn. “I love you” she whispered, and kissed her hand then touched it to the headstone. The instant her fingers came in contact with the marble, she saw herself from above. Tara stood beside her, though everything below her face was a blur of light. “Tara, I’ve missed you so much” she breathed, unaware of the overused phrase she’d just muttered. “I’ve missed you too, Will” said Tara, reaching one of her hands of light up to brush Willow’s cheek affectionately “but it’s time to move on.” Willow’s face crumpled. “Why?” Willow asked, her eyes mirrors of her pain. Tara chose her words carefully “Because I can’t stand to see you like this, I don’t want you to spend your life trying to reach worlds that weren’t meant for the living. Will, you were the love of my life, I’m sure we’ll meet again in another lifetime, but you can’t let me hold you back.” Willow nodded, understanding, but not liking what had to happen. “You’re going to meet someone, someone who needs you as much as you need her. Don’t push her away” with that, Tara stepped back into her realm, and Willow found herself lying on Tara’s grave. The red haired woman was kneeled beside her.

“I think so” Willow said, but when she tried to sit up, she fainted again.

“C’mon, help me out here” said Scully as she helped Willow staunter over to Scully’s jeep.

Once Willow was safely in the passenger seat, Scully began to piece together who this young woman was. “Can you remember your name?” Scully asked.

“Well, Willow, you really know how to give yourself a concussion. I was in the next row when I heard your skull crack against that tombstone. You were out cold for at least a minute, so I figured I’d better take you to the hospital. Then I realised I didn’t know where it was.” She smiled.

“I’m not from around here” Willow stuttered “But I don’t feel that bad – I think I just need a rest.”

“Well, I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that – as a doctor I’m required to keep you conscious for twelve hours just to make sure there isn’t any serious head trauma.” She started the engine.

Bill wasn’t too upset about Scully bringing Willow home, at least, he thought, it wasn’t Mulder.

“I came to visit a uh” Willow glanced at the cross on the kitchen wall “friend. I met Dana while I was visiting her.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed, until Tara’s cheery voice broke it “How about some dessert?”

After lunch Scully took Willow upstairs and checked there was no serious damage. Her small hands thoroughly massaged Willow’s scalp, checking for lumps. Besides a slight concussion, the only thing wrong with Willow was that she was a little overheated, though not dangerously so.

“I guess I can take you home now” said Scully “but try not to fall asleep until at least 10.”

As Willow said goodbye and thanked the Scullys, Tara invited her to the cocktail party they were holding on Christmas Eve.

Willow knocked on the door nervously. She was early, but she felt a bit guilty about not returning the Scully’s kindness.

Tara answered the door, bright faced as ever in an ivory and gold shirt, cream pants, and cute jingle bell earrings.

“Goodness, I thought I told everyone six. Well, come in anyway dear. What was your name again?” Tara said.

“Willow. I’m a friend of Dana’s. The klutz who hit her head” she grinned “I actually came early because I thought you could use some help. Besides, I felt I should repay your hospitality.” Willow handed Tara a bottle of champagne.

Upstairs, Dana was trying to decide what to wear. She wanted to look nice, she wanted to make a better impression then last time. Agent Reyes and Willow kept popping into her head. Both of them had given her looks that she’d never had from other women, though she didn’t know what they could mean. The closest she had seen to that look before was the one Mulder had given her in the hallway, just before the bee had stung her. Finally she chose her new red rayon cocktail dress, which had a decidedly Latin flair.

Willow stood and arranged the hor d’oeuvres onto silver platters as Tara prepared them. She went to spike the devil on horseback that Tara was holding with a toothpick when she saw Dana at the top of the stairs. She gazed up at Scully and grinned. The cherry red fabric of her dress hugged all the right curves and the asymmetrical hemline dared her to look higher and higher. The toothpick fell from her fingers, forgotten.

“Hi” smiled Willow “you look great. No, better then great, breathtaking.”

Scully blushed. “Thanks. So do you” she responded, admiring Willow’s deep green stretch velvet dress, which left her shoulders bare, but covered her arms. The holiday look was completed with black faux fur trim on the cuffs and neckline.

The evening went smoothly until Willow ran into Tara’s parents while doing a round with a tray of cucumber sandwiches. She prayed they wouldn’t recognize her, but it was no good.

“Willow Rosenberg” called Mr Braithwaite, as Willow all but fled back to the kitchen. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did” he began, following her into the kitchen and cornering her.

“What exactly do you think I’ve done?” asked Willow, lashing out so she wouldn’t break down.

“Where to start!” Mr Braithwaite exclaimed. “First you turn her into some kind of pervert, then you make her join your band of crazy friends and run around stirring up trouble. Now, because of you, she’s dead! If you have to ask yourself what it is you’ve done, I say you never cared about her at all” Mr Braithwaite’s outburst only fired Willow’s rage.

“Firstly, being gay does NOT make you a pervert, and if you think it does, I suggest you get your mind out of the 1950’s” Willow inhaled deeply “Secondly, if you knew Tara at all, you’d know that because she helped us, the world has been saved more then once. Thirdly, you know damn well it wasn’t my fault she died, and I did everything I could to save her. EVERYTHING. Besides, since when did you care? As soon as you found out she was gay you cut all contact with her, yet you still insisted on taking her away from the people who really loved her. I loved Tara, and however sick or perverted you think that love may be, it’s still valid. At least I could love her for who she was.” Willow glared at Mr Braithwaite’s beady eyes.

“If you think you can talk your way out of this one, you immoral child, think again.” Mr Braithwaite threatened to release another stream of insults when his new wife, Kathy, opened the door.

“There you are” she exclaimed “Bill wants to introduce you to his family.” He was whisked out of the room before he could say anything.

Once he was gone, Willow broke down. Through her tears she saw a half empty bottle of vodka on the counter.

“Andy, hi” said Bill, shaking Mr Braithwaite’s hand. “Thought you should meet my family who you’ve heard so much about. This is my mother, Maggie, you know my wife Tara, our son Matthew, and my sister, Dana.

Mr Braithwaite shook everyone’s hand politely, and began to talk with Bill and some of his Navy friends about the latest technology. His wife Kathy began to talk with Tara and Maggie about children and other topics that Dana had next to no experience in. Dana glanced around the room, hoping she might excuse herself and speak to Willow, but Willow was nowhere to be seen.

First Dana headed to the bathroom, but it was empty, after a second sweep of the lounge room she decided the kitchen was her best bet. The sound of sobbing was coming from one of the room’s darkened corners.

“Willow?” called Dana ”is that you?” she flicked on the bench light. Willows face was tearstained and she clutched the nearly empty vodka bottle in her hand.