Rest for the Wicked
by Aadler
Copyright November 2019
Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, the WB, and UPN.
Setting: Buffy, indeterminate (maybe around Season Three or Four)
Genre: semi-AU
Spoilers: none, really
i Youre my punishment, Ethan complains. For doing a good deed, even if that was just to cheese off your family.
Its a familiar lament, and Tara cant really argue. He set her free, and now she keeps him not jailed. Muzzled, maybe. Instead she points out, The sign says theres a Thai place in two miles.
That perks him up. Hmm. Been awhile since I had any decent nam ngiao. Then with a quick grimace he adds, Too bad it comes with a side order of virtue.
They pass a small gas station. The pumps dont explode. Ethan grimaces again.
ii Hed spied her among her kin, unpolished gem in an uncultured setting, and thought to corrupt her. (Mystical terms only, he early sensed her physical disinterest and in his own way hes a gentleman. The thought would horrify him.) She let him tempt her away, learned as happily as he taught; he watched her blossom, shedding her familys strictures. Failed to note the limits she set herself.
She had no taste for the wild joy of chaos. Freedom, but on her own terms. Breaking boundaries, but not for the pleasure of breaking. She had scruples.
Bitter disappointment. Not his last.
iii Theyre shown a table, make their order, duel all through the appetizers. No glass cracks, no cooking oil ignites, hurried feet land on nothing slippery. The chimes tinkle with unusual animation, though, and other diners find themselves feeling whimsical, exhilarated.
The irony is that Ethans getting better in his imprisonment. Fighting against her limits sharpens his wits, strengthens his will, firms his control. He could go on a real tear, now except, of course, Tara is growing even more rapidly.
They pick different entrees, but theyll share the khao man gai.
(They share a lot. Damn it to bloody hell.)
iv Eventually hed had to recognize that she would never embrace vibrant disorder. Sighing, he left her. She followed. He slipped her scrutiny a dozen times; she always found him. He set snares to impede her; she evaded them, nullified them, or broke free before he could complete an escape.
And, wherever he went, she blocked him from doing what he does.
He wasnt ruthless enough to kill her (or, perhaps, reckless enough to try), and it seemed nothing less would stop her. Her obstinacy was endearing, infuriating, at least a bit frightening.
And however he hated to admit it impressive.
v The server introduces herself as Prija, and she and Tara recognize each other in a way neither could describe but both understand: glances, tone, timing, even words not said when normally they would be. Ethan seems not to notice which is unlikely, so either hes saving it for later use or is simply being considerate. (Also unlikely, but then, Ethan.)
Tara feels a pang but no temptation, because its just not possible. Shes already committed, perhaps for life. It would be nice to reach for someone, but it cant be: not now, not here.
Still hurts. Shes used to it.
vi Shes no less captive of her chosen course than he is. Might even be easier for him: hes free if he can only escape her. She, by contrast, is her own jailer. She made a deliberate choice, knowing that linking herself to Ethan meant foreswearing other possibilities.
She had dreams once, and she misses them. All the could bes that never will be, and no reprieve because those are the terms she set. She spent so many years under her familys control, and now shes bound by her own.
Yet bound she is. Because thats how it has to be.
vii We can still get to Raleigh today, Tara says as they leave. Peace offering.
Ethan shakes it away. Whats the point? Youll keep me to heel regardless.
She shrugs. Maybe not. She allows some things; even joins him sometimes, as long as it hurts nobody and isnt tasteless. His idea of fun isnt hers, but she tries to indulge him occasionally. There are things we both enjoy.
Ethan actually gives it thought. No, he decides. Thisll do for now. Hit the big city early tomorrow. A theatrical leer. New day, new opportunities.
Incorrigible, always. Even so, she lets him dream.
viii After weeks of flee-and-follow, theyve gradually found a routine. Share the car, compromise on a schedule, even lodge together: convenience, comfort, economy. She wards the motel room while he watches and assesses; naturally, shell layer on more later, in privacy. (Then shell work to scry out the little frills he weaves in when he can sneak it past her.)
It makes the struggle between them no less genuine, no less grimly serious. It does, however, make it all a great deal less wearying. And, oddly, civilized.
Ethan has always loathed domesticity, mocked it. Somehow, its caught him nonetheless.
ix She owes him more than she can ever repay. He gave her what shed always yearned for; she denies him what he most loves.
She has to. What he loves, damages his soul. She cant allow this.
Evening rituals done, she joins him in the bed. Comfort of two bodies together, never more than that. She doesnt need more, and he doesnt seem to resent the lack. (Of course, shes given him abundant cause for other resentments.)
He turns out the light, insists again, Ill never be good.
No, she doesnt say to him. But you can be less bad.
x Its not pretense, on either side. Ethan genuinely seethes at having his beloved mischief curbed. Tara truly misses the life she could live if her life werent committed to neutralizing the chaos he generates.
Even so, what they have in each other is something neither of them sought, but neither of them could leave behind without knowing the loss.
This isnt love as anyone else would recognize it. Not love of a man for a woman, or a woman for a man. But its part of them now, and neither of them can (not fully) want to be free of it.
end
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