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Buffy made sure she was far ahead of William as they made their way to the cafeteria. What he didn’t know, and what she didn’t want to let on to was that she was crying, silently.

That was the thing about worrying and being scared; sometimes it didn’t allow you to see what was happening around you. It created tunnel vision and left you trapped in your own world. And she realized that was for some, not all. Unfortunately, she was one of those. She’d never been one to let people in when she was hurting. Rather, she shut people out and tried to overcome what hurt her on her own. Not to mention the way she sometimes dealt with that hurt was by lashing out.

It was a trait she’d inherited from her father. He’d never much been one for showing if he was hurt. He was the stoic man who bore it all and never said anything. He only got angry. It’d always frustrated her that he did that instead of letting Joyce in and working through whatever worried or bothered him, but dammit if she wasn’t the same way.

And it wasn’t as if she could eradicate twenty years of conditioning in the blink of an eye. No, Buffy hated to cry and more than that she hated for others to see her cry. She thought of it as a sign of weakness. Strong people didn’t cry; they wore a brave face. If they hurt, they didn’t let it show; couldn’t let it show. It just gave others the ability to know your weaknesses and prey on them.

Her mother knew this about her and often yelled at her; telling her that if she’d just talk things out, she’d feel so much better.

It just wasn’t something Buffy had practice at. She felt the urge rather to hide; to be alone and deal with things on her own until she could be around people and face things. She found when she wasn’t given that time she became increasingly frustrated and angry.

Like now.

She was mad at her mother for forcing her to be with someone and she was mad at William for not understanding what she needed right now. She was worried about her father being alone in the hospital that night, she was worried about what would happen when he got home –who would watch him? What if he had another heart attack and no one was there? What if they had to perform surgery and died on the table – didn’t stuff like that happen? What if she hadn’t been there that afternoon? God, he’d worked himself up all day just waiting for them to arrive. And who had sent those pictures? Did they realize what they’d done? She should have told him; she should have told him sooner, she shouldn’t have kept it from him. If they had just gone to him and told him—

“Buffy.”

“What?” she nearly barked; startled out of her thoughts.

“You passed the cafeteria; it’s right here.”

Wiping profusely at the tears that tracked her face, she turned and headed for the open double doors that led to a brightly lit hospital cafeteria, avoiding William’s gaze.

“Buffy,” he stopped her, grabbing her arm. “Buffy, look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, Buffy, look at me.”

“William, I said no!” and she jerked her arm from his grasp.

He didn’t let go and instead hauled her to him, grabbing her other arm and making her face him. “God dammit Buffy!” he shouted and then halted. “You’re crying.”

“Yeah, I’m crying. You happy now?”

“Buffy—“

She was fighting a losing battle as the tears she was trying to keep down started to fall. “Don’t okay? Don’t. I’m trying here, okay? I don’t want to lose it.”

“Buffy, you can lose it. It’s okay. I’m here –“

“No, I hate to cry. I hate it. It hurts and . . . and it hurts,” and she failed horribly at stifling a sob. “And I’m so worried about him and I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack because I keep seeing him fall in my head. I keep seeing him fall and clutching his chest and I’m so worried and my heart it feels like it’s just clenching inside my chest so hard and I can’t . . . breathe.” She fell apart then; crumbled into tears. She barely registered William lifting her effortlessly in his arms and walking her into a room. He slid to the floor with her cradled in his arms and held onto her tightly on his lap.

He rubbed her back and murmured words of comfort that she didn’t really hear, but his voice, his deep calming voice soothed her. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed her heart out, balling his shirt into her fists.

“I’m scared,” she sobbed.

“I know, baby, I know you are. It’s normal to be scared.”

“What if he has another heart attack and no one is there?”

“The doctors are going to make sure he’s taken care of, Buffy. They’re going to do everything they can to prevent that from happening.”

“What if they can’t?”

“Buffy, no one is going to let anything happen to him. Your dad is a fighter. You think this is going to get him down? No way. He’s the strongest man I know. He’s going to be fine.”

“I keep seeing him fall. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scared and helpless. I didn’t know what to do.” The tears didn’t seem to want to stop.

“I know, baby.”

“I love my Dad, William. I do.”

“I know, Buffy, I know you do and he knows you do too.”

“No, I’ve been so mean to him since I got back home. . . . I told him in the ambulance and he couldn’t hear me and I wanted him to hear me, Will. I wanted him to know that I loved him and I wanted him to know that I was s—s—sorry for being so mean to him and pushing him away and he couldn’t hear me and I kept thinking that if he died he wouldn’t hear me and I wanted to hear me.”

He held her tighter, “He knows, baby, he knows,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

She pulled back to look at him, hiccupping. He was crying too. “You’re crying.”

“I am,” he admitted, unabashedly at that. That was amazing to her.

“You didn’t see him yet,” she realized suddenly.

He shook his head, “I didn’t.”

“Will?”

“What, baby?”

“Are you scared too?” she whispered.

“I am, but I know he’s going to be okay. I feel it in my gut.”

“Do you promise?” she asked imploringly.

Brushing some hair from her face he nodded, “I promise.”

“Are you mad at me?”

His eyes widened, “No – Buffy, why do you think that?”

“I haven’t exactly been . . . kind. You seemed upset with me earlier.”

“I just . . . “he shook his head. “I want to help you and I wanted to --- no I needed to hold you and you wouldn’t let me.”

“Because you’re scared too?”

He nodded, “Yes. He is my best friend.”

“I’m not . . . good at this, Will. I hate to cry and I don’t deal well with being scared and worried. It’s not anything against you; it’s me. I keep things in and I don’t share what I feel very often. Especially when I feel like this. I like to hide and be away from people and just work it out in my head first.”

“I’ve smothered you—“ he said, sounding regretful.

“No, you –“ she broke off, frustrated. “You didn’t know. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I” she stopped, suddenly aware of their surroundings. “Where are we?” she said, looking around.

“The bathroom,” he said sheepishly. “The men’s bathroom. It was the only place I could think of that was quiet and away – are you laughing?”

Buffy placed her hand over her mouth and was giggling through the stray tears falling. She nodded, “I am. We’re in a bathroom. On the floor. Having a heart – to – heart.”

He started to laugh, “Well, when you put it that way.”

“It’s okay, some of my best thoughts happen in a bathroom,” she said and laughed.

“At least you’re laughing now. That’s a good sign,” he said fondly and smiled at her.

She sighed, “Yeah, I guess. We better get that tea and get back to my mom.”

“After you, Princess.”

Leaning in she kissed him quickly; chastely and climbed off his lap. She held out her hand and helped him up. Leaving the bathroom, an elderly man raised his brow when he saw them; Buffy blushed profusely and William laughed.





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