Oz/Willow Ficathon story
This is a bit late. It was due on 7/30, but since I was at writercon and this wasn't finished... well, you all know how it goes. Anyway, without further ado, I present my fic for the Oz/Willow ficathon.
Title: Finding Home
Author: Moosesal
Written for: dolores
Pairing: Oz/Willow
Request: after "Chosen", with a discussion of Evil Willow; no Tara bashing
Rating: PG
Notes: Thanks go silvertedy as usual for helping me find my words and fixing my mistakes.
This is a little bittersweet, I think. But I think it's beautiful. I hope you do too.
Finding Home
Oz gazed out the train window at the French countryside. He was exhausted. The cargo ship from Rio to Lisbon had taken a week, and he felt like he'd been on the train forever. Soon it would enter the Chunnel and he'd be in England. He knew Willow or the Council would have paid to fly him, but he had needed the travel time to figure out why he was really making this move.
***
Rio -- 3 weeks earlier
It had happened a billion times since Sunnydale. Oz would be strolling along when he'd see a fire-flash of hair ahead of him. Willow? He always wondered. Sometimes he wasn't sure if the people he mistook for her were even real or just manifestations of what he wanted to be.
This time had been no different. At first. Until he thought her name and she had turned to face him.
“Oz,” she had smiled, stepping forward to hug him. He remembered standing frozen in her embrace. It couldn't be her. It was never her. Yet the arms around him were very real.
***
He'd been surprised that she had been looking for him. He remembered how she'd looked standing there. Still his Willow, but different. He could feel the power radiating from her. He could feel and smell the Earth pouring from her. She was beautiful and strong and so different from the girl he'd known. She had seen so much. Done so much. Become so much.
***
Willow had sipped her coffee as she took him in. “You look good.”
“Yeah,” he had nodded. “I like it here. Easy to get lost.”
“Glad I found you,” she’d grinned.
Oz had felt himself blush and had resorted to staring into his cup.
“I've missed you.”
Her words had been so low he had thought that he’d misheard. But when he had looked up the truth had been there in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.”
***
Oz watched the countryside fly by as the train sped toward London. It was nothing like Sunnydale, and he was glad of that. News of his hometown’s destruction hadn’t really shocked him. Learning that Willow almost had done the honors herself still gave him goose bumps.
He had sat quiet as she detailed Tara's death and what had happened in the days after. She'd spoken slowly, choosing her words with care. When she told him about Warren and how she'd fought her friends, her eyes had filled with pain. But later, when she returned to memories of Tara, her eyes had held only love.
***
“I'm sorry.”
Willow's eyes had closed for a moment as she nodded. They had sat in silence except for the sound of Willow's spoon tinging against the side of her cup.
“I wish I had met her under different circumstances.” Oz had reached for Willow's hand and she had dropped the spoon. “I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah?” she asked. She was suddenly the shy girl he'd fallen in love with. God, that had been a lifetime ago. For both of them.
Oz remembered smiling as he looked out the cafe window. Just beyond the dirty pane, people had milled around the marketplace caught up in dramas of their own. “I come here a lot. Buy herbs ... check out the magic dealers' goods.…” Then he had turned back to face her. “I must have imagined you here a thousand times.”
He had squeezed her hand and she had squeezed back.
***
They had sat in silence for awhile, looking at each other and into each other. He'd finally broken the silence, asking her about her plans. She had told him about working for the Council. She was returning to London the following morning. The Council had a job for him if he wanted it--would he come with her?
They had spent the afternoon moving through the market, not speaking, just watching and sensing and relearning.
Oz had wanted to say yes. Yes, he would go. Yes, he would take the job. But he hadn't known how far the invitation really went. And he hadn't want to assume. He certainly hadn’t wanted to ask. But her eyes. Her eyes had been soft and smiling. Her heart had beat steady and calm. Her scent had been fresh and clean and welcoming and he had thought maybe.
The train rolled through stations, barely slowing, never stopping, and Oz was oblivious to where he was until the conductor came through. “Waterloo! Waterloo station London. Thirty minutes.”
Oz let his mind drift back once more. How she'd told him about Kennedy -- the girlfriend who'd chosen Cleveland and the Hellmouth over Willow and London -- as they had lain tangled in his bed, their fingers entwined. She'd smiled in her sleep and her eyes had crinkled. He'd watched her as she dreamed and had wondered who walked through her mind. Tara? Kennedy? Him?
He'd awakened the next morning to her body pressed tight to his, her arm thrown over his waist, her breath tickling his neck. He'd hesitantly reached up to run his fingers through her hair, and she'd nuzzled in even closer and sighed.
After she left, the void inside him had been stronger than ever. Within two weeks, he had packed and boarded the cargo ship bound for Portugal.
***
Oz reached her building. Halfway down the tenants’ list, he found her name. Rosenberg. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the buzzer.
Her voice was tinny through the speaker. “Hello?”
Uncertainty seized him. It was all too much. He was afraid to answer. Afraid to be here, Afraid everything might not mean what he wanted it to mean and afraid he wouldn't be able to handle it whether it did or didn't.
“Hello?” Her voice--so sweet, so inviting.
Oz turned, walking away, his bag slung over one shoulder. Then he heard the door open.
“Oz?” He stopped midstep. “Oz?” she whispered as she touched his shoulder.
His head sagged as he closed his eyes. Her scent drifted around him. She represented everything he wanted. The home he'd been missing for so very, very long. He opened his eyes and turned back.
“Hey,” she lifted his chin. “You coming up?”
He nodded, his decision made. Taking his fingers, Willow led him back to the door and held it for him as he stepped inside. They were home.
The end.
Title: Finding Home
Author: Moosesal
Written for: dolores
Pairing: Oz/Willow
Request: after "Chosen", with a discussion of Evil Willow; no Tara bashing
Rating: PG
Notes: Thanks go silvertedy as usual for helping me find my words and fixing my mistakes.
This is a little bittersweet, I think. But I think it's beautiful. I hope you do too.
Finding Home
Oz gazed out the train window at the French countryside. He was exhausted. The cargo ship from Rio to Lisbon had taken a week, and he felt like he'd been on the train forever. Soon it would enter the Chunnel and he'd be in England. He knew Willow or the Council would have paid to fly him, but he had needed the travel time to figure out why he was really making this move.
***
Rio -- 3 weeks earlier
It had happened a billion times since Sunnydale. Oz would be strolling along when he'd see a fire-flash of hair ahead of him. Willow? He always wondered. Sometimes he wasn't sure if the people he mistook for her were even real or just manifestations of what he wanted to be.
This time had been no different. At first. Until he thought her name and she had turned to face him.
“Oz,” she had smiled, stepping forward to hug him. He remembered standing frozen in her embrace. It couldn't be her. It was never her. Yet the arms around him were very real.
***
He'd been surprised that she had been looking for him. He remembered how she'd looked standing there. Still his Willow, but different. He could feel the power radiating from her. He could feel and smell the Earth pouring from her. She was beautiful and strong and so different from the girl he'd known. She had seen so much. Done so much. Become so much.
***
Willow had sipped her coffee as she took him in. “You look good.”
“Yeah,” he had nodded. “I like it here. Easy to get lost.”
“Glad I found you,” she’d grinned.
Oz had felt himself blush and had resorted to staring into his cup.
“I've missed you.”
Her words had been so low he had thought that he’d misheard. But when he had looked up the truth had been there in her eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.”
***
Oz watched the countryside fly by as the train sped toward London. It was nothing like Sunnydale, and he was glad of that. News of his hometown’s destruction hadn’t really shocked him. Learning that Willow almost had done the honors herself still gave him goose bumps.
He had sat quiet as she detailed Tara's death and what had happened in the days after. She'd spoken slowly, choosing her words with care. When she told him about Warren and how she'd fought her friends, her eyes had filled with pain. But later, when she returned to memories of Tara, her eyes had held only love.
***
“I'm sorry.”
Willow's eyes had closed for a moment as she nodded. They had sat in silence except for the sound of Willow's spoon tinging against the side of her cup.
“I wish I had met her under different circumstances.” Oz had reached for Willow's hand and she had dropped the spoon. “I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah?” she asked. She was suddenly the shy girl he'd fallen in love with. God, that had been a lifetime ago. For both of them.
Oz remembered smiling as he looked out the cafe window. Just beyond the dirty pane, people had milled around the marketplace caught up in dramas of their own. “I come here a lot. Buy herbs ... check out the magic dealers' goods.…” Then he had turned back to face her. “I must have imagined you here a thousand times.”
He had squeezed her hand and she had squeezed back.
***
They had sat in silence for awhile, looking at each other and into each other. He'd finally broken the silence, asking her about her plans. She had told him about working for the Council. She was returning to London the following morning. The Council had a job for him if he wanted it--would he come with her?
They had spent the afternoon moving through the market, not speaking, just watching and sensing and relearning.
Oz had wanted to say yes. Yes, he would go. Yes, he would take the job. But he hadn't known how far the invitation really went. And he hadn't want to assume. He certainly hadn’t wanted to ask. But her eyes. Her eyes had been soft and smiling. Her heart had beat steady and calm. Her scent had been fresh and clean and welcoming and he had thought maybe.
The train rolled through stations, barely slowing, never stopping, and Oz was oblivious to where he was until the conductor came through. “Waterloo! Waterloo station London. Thirty minutes.”
Oz let his mind drift back once more. How she'd told him about Kennedy -- the girlfriend who'd chosen Cleveland and the Hellmouth over Willow and London -- as they had lain tangled in his bed, their fingers entwined. She'd smiled in her sleep and her eyes had crinkled. He'd watched her as she dreamed and had wondered who walked through her mind. Tara? Kennedy? Him?
He'd awakened the next morning to her body pressed tight to his, her arm thrown over his waist, her breath tickling his neck. He'd hesitantly reached up to run his fingers through her hair, and she'd nuzzled in even closer and sighed.
After she left, the void inside him had been stronger than ever. Within two weeks, he had packed and boarded the cargo ship bound for Portugal.
***
Oz reached her building. Halfway down the tenants’ list, he found her name. Rosenberg. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the buzzer.
Her voice was tinny through the speaker. “Hello?”
Uncertainty seized him. It was all too much. He was afraid to answer. Afraid to be here, Afraid everything might not mean what he wanted it to mean and afraid he wouldn't be able to handle it whether it did or didn't.
“Hello?” Her voice--so sweet, so inviting.
Oz turned, walking away, his bag slung over one shoulder. Then he heard the door open.
“Oz?” He stopped midstep. “Oz?” she whispered as she touched his shoulder.
His head sagged as he closed his eyes. Her scent drifted around him. She represented everything he wanted. The home he'd been missing for so very, very long. He opened his eyes and turned back.
“Hey,” she lifted his chin. “You coming up?”
He nodded, his decision made. Taking his fingers, Willow led him back to the door and held it for him as he stepped inside. They were home.
The end.