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Amnesty International has accused Turkey of forcibly returning thousands of refugees to war-torn Syria. Ankara recently struck a deal with the EU to stem the flow of migrants into Europe.

Summary generated by cruyff8's autosummarizer of http://www.dw.com/en/amnesty-turkey-illegally-sending-syrians-back-to-war-zone/a-19157179:
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Amnesty: Turkey illegally sending Syrians back to war zone | News | DW.COM | 01.04.2016
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Turkey Amnesty: Turkey illegally sending Syrians back to war zone
Amnesty International has accused Turkey of forcibly returning thousands of refugees to war-torn Syria.
Watch video 01:31
Share Protests on Lesbos ahead of deportations
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Permalink http://dw.com/p/1IKLS
Protests on Lesbos ahead of deportations
Amnesty also says Turkey has scaled back the registration of Syrian refugees in the southern provinces, making it impossible for them to access basic services.The Turkish Foreign Ministry said the nation had maintained an "open door" policy for Syrian migrants for five years and has abided by the "non-refoulement" principle of not deporting someone back to a country where they are likely to face persecution.Under the agreement, Turkey is supposed to be taking in migrants returned from Greece, but uncertainty remains over how many will be sent back, how they will be processed, and where they will be accommodated.The deal aims to close this route
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Protests on Lesbos ahead of deportations
Date 01.04.2016
Related Subjects Amnesty International, Syria, Turkey
Keywords Turkey, Syria, migration, Amnesty International, refugees
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The EU-Turkey migration agreement comes into effect: migrants who arrived on Greek soil after March 20 will be returned to Turkey.Opinion: EU-Turkey refugee agreement needs a miracle 02.04.2016
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Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Beautiful Friend, The End

  1. SaltyHam, Tufflefluff and the Fat Bastard: Part One
  2. SaltyHam, Tufflefluff and the Fat Bastard: Part Two
  3. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Mother GotHam
  4. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Captain America vs. The Dark Blight
  5. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Ragnarök
  6. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Pornocalypse Now
  7. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: A Midsummer's Night's Scheme
  8. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Captain America's Civil War
  9. Terrible Tales of Tufflefluff: Pulp Fiction
Tuff's therapist has been after her for weeks to talk to her friends about all this stuff, and she's finally bitten the bullet, nervously calling Natasha and asking if she has some time to hang out.
Natasha's been Tuff's official best friend ever since Cap quit the job, but they're not as close as you'd expect two women with a fifteen-year friendship to be... mostly because Tuff doesn't really do close.
Not anymore.
"I need to talk about..."
(Say the name, just SAY the stupid NAME...!)
"...Cap. For therapy. Just this once, and then I won't again, I promise," Tuff assures her hurriedly.
Tuff blurts it out: the nervous breakdown, the fear and shame, the damage to her self-esteem, how difficult it's been for her to let anyone else in, how important he'd been to her, and how it had burned to be so unimportant to him.
When she looks up, Natasha's crying.
Oh shit, of course that would hurt her feelings, I basically just shat on our friendship, Tuff thinks miserably. God, I'm an asshole. Why do I ever open my mouth?
"Nat, I'm sorry, I..."
"Why didn't you ever tell me, Tuff?"
"I just... everyone said I talked about him too much, everyone said I was creepy and obsessive, so I... stopped talking about him. Ever." Natasha still looks unhappy, so Tuff quickly adds: "It's not that I didn't trust you, I just didn't want to bother you..."
"Cap loved you. I've known that for thirteen years. He told me himself, and if I'd had any idea what was going on in your head, I would have told you. But you never mentioned him, ever, and when anyone brought him up, you acted like you couldn't care less about him. So, for his sake... I kept my mouth shut."
Tuff stares at Natasha, too stunned to speak.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen fucking years.
In her quest to jog her missing memories, Tuff has filled her ears with her life's old soundtracks... but she knows they're not the ultimate sonic time machine. For that, she needs the mix cd that Cap surprised her with in 1999, a year after their falling-out, as a thank-you gift for a favor she'd done him.
She finds it, finally, and pops it in, lying back and dimming the lights.
Creepy, discordant choir vocals; creepy, growly Till Lindemann chanting. She smiles ruefully, remembering how disappointed her younger self had been the first time she'd played it; she'd been secretly praying for love songs, and she'd gotten Neue Deutsche Härte.
But Tuff's learned a little German in twelve years... and married a massive Rammstein fan. The song she'd once dismissed as "angry stuff", she now recognizes in seconds.
Till sings about the woman he lost the year before, the one he's so unable to get over that he sleeps on her grave and eventually digs up her corpse.
Cap probably didn't know what it meant in English back then either, she tells herself uneasily. He just liked the Lost Highway soundtrack...
The next song is about a man addicted to a woman who causes him pain. The next is about a man in love with a brainwashed woman, pleading with her to think for herself and come be with him. The next is about watching a woman being destroyed by a manipulative narcissist; in the next, a man begs a woman to believe that he loves her despite the lies she's been told.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," Marilyn Manson chants in rising anguish, before bursting into a full-throated scream of agony.
Tuff presses her palms against her eyes.
Holy fucking shit. I am an idiot.
October, 1998
In an attempt to compensate for her infamous birthday party in 1997, which BatFeeder had epically ruined, Tuff goes big in 1998, saving up for weeks to rent out a cabin in the mountains for the weekend.
BatFeeder is not invited, but Tuff knows that doesn't matter; he hadn't been invited to the birthday party he ruined the year before, either.
She specifically asks him, as a personal favor to her, to let her have this weekend just with her friends.
But, of course, the asshole shows up at her house anyway, recruiting GotHam to rip Tuff a new one for being so horribly rude and trying to exclude her poor sweet little punkin-boo BatFeeder.
Bruce arrives to pick up Tuff for the drive to the mountains, his face falling when he realizes that BatFeeder's successfully crashed the weekend. Bruce asks Tuff if he can borrow her phone for a minute, and disappears to have a quiet conversation.
Tuff's bummed the whole drive up the mountain. She's spent so much time, money, and effort planning this, she's been so excited about it... and now it's gonna be completely infected with BatFeeder's bullshit.
Dammit... she is not going to let BatFeeder ruin another birthday for her. She's going to have a great time, and she's going to spend as much time with Cap as possible, and it's going to be awesome.
Except that Cap never shows up.
Tuff waits and waits, growing more and more worried, as the hours drag by and he never arrives. Eventually, afraid that he's lost in the woods or something, she calls his mom, and gets Cap instead. He feeds her some lame-ass excuse for why he's not coming after all and gets off the phone quickly.
She tries not to let it ruin her weekend... but it totally ruins her weekend.
More than that, it feels like the final evidence that Cap truly can't stand her; what other reason would he have for bailing on an all-expenses-paid, three-day bacchanal with all of his friends?
Tuff decides to cut her losses and stop trying to force a friendship that Cap obviously doesn't want.
Thirteen years later, it hits her: Bruce had called Cap and warned him not to come.
The more she cross-references, the more she realizes that the whole time she thought Cap was avoiding her, he was actually avoiding BatFeeder.
She watches video after video from this time period, and as long as BatFeeder's not there, Cap's right by her side.
She can't keep facepalming this often. It's going to scar.
August, 1999
Tuff has no memory of how she ended up in this situation. She doesn't even live in her hometown at this point; she's miserably off at grad school, triple bonus emphasis on the miserable.
Cap and Sam have brought her to their place of employment... an incredibly sketchy mini-mart/restaurant/baitshop that Tuff will never be able to find again. It's the middle of the night, and the place is closed, but Sam and Cap have keys; Sam says the owner allows the employees he trusts to come in and shop after hours, because the random lights and cars discourage break-ins.
Tuff is bewildered by all of this... especially when Cap writes his and Sam's names on a post-it note, sticks it to a twenty-dollar bill, and leaves it on the counter.
"Let's play doughball, bitches!" Sam shrieks happily, running down the stairs.
"What?" Tuff asks, wide-eyed.
"C'mon," Cap says gleefully. "Live a little."
She follows him down darkened stairs festooned with corpse-crusted flypaper strips and into a dank, underlit cave of a kitchen. Cap twists around her, grabbing a giant pizza paddle.
"Dooooooughbaaaaaall!" Sam screams from the shadows, and then a giant wad of pizza dough is flying out of the darkness. Cap whacks it back with one athletic swing.
Tuff wonders, very sincerely, if someone has slipped her acid.
But then Cap's grabbing her by the waist, swinging her around, and depositing her on the counter next to a huge commercial griddle.
"Name it, gorgeous, I cook it for you."
"I'm not hungry," Tuff lies, as usual.
"Then you are a fool, who will watch and drool as I craft the manliest of meats! SAM!"
"Steeeeeeeeaaaakbaaaaaall!" comes the cry from the darkness.
Cap fires up the griddle, slathers it with butter, and proceeds to catch the steaks that Sam's throwing from some hidden freezer.
He disappears for a second, returning with an ice-cold Diet Coke, a.k.a. Tuff's personal crack rock, and presents it like a bottle of fine champagne.
Tuff laughs, and her heart is so full that it hurts, and she never, never, never wants to go back to her fucking horrible grad school, not ever. She wants to stay in this creepy shithole for the rest of her life, watching Cap put butter on things.
Sam cleans up, refusing Tuff's offer to help, while Cap fills up styrofoam containers: buttery steaks and barbecue wings, garlic bread and fries and God-knows-what.
"We went overboard, dude," Sam laughs when he sees the haul.
Cap agrees, and swaps the twenty for a fifty before they leave.
They head back to Cap's apartment and lay out their feast; Cap makes another attempt to get Tuff to eat.
"Oh, come on," he wheedles, dangling a sauce-dripping chicken wing in her face.
"No, no, you boys enjoy your gluttony..."
"You must join the gluttony," Cap insists, dropping his wing back into the lake of sauce. "It is a ritual. You must participate."
She shakes her head, laughing.
"Gluttony, gluttony," Cap chants, banging his fist on the table. "C'mon, Sam, help me."
"Gluttony, gluttony," they both chant... and then, inspired by some mad impulse, Cap sticks both hands in the barbecue sauce and starts rubbing it on his face like war paint. "Gluttony! Gluttony!"
Tuff explodes with laughter, face in her hands, so in love with Cap she thinks she might actually die. "You're insane!"
"You know the rules, Tuff," Cap says solemnly from beneath his dripping sauce-mask. "If you won't eat, then you have to dance."
He grabs a wet-nap and cleans his hands.
"You, uh, missed a little," Tuff laughs, circling her face with her finger.
"No, this is a sexy look for me," he declares, grabbing her hand and whirling her into the center of his living room. He leans over his laptop, and lively Spanish guitar begins to play.
"So," he says, sliding his hands down to her hips. "The first dance I learned this summer..."
Tuff doesn't know this dance at all, but as long as Cap's keeping his hands on her? He can teach her anything he wants.
Cap and Tuff spin around the living room, Sam happily eating chicken wings and humming along to the music.
Objectively, it's completely surreal.
And yet... it's the first time in months that anything's felt real at all.
Tuff doesn't know it yet, but this year, she's crossed the border into full-blown depersonalization disorder. Her life at Helltown University feels like she's watching a David Lynch documentary about concrete, narrated by Ben Stein.
But tonight, she actually feels like Tufflefluff again, awake and alive and capable of emotion, spinning in a world filled with color. Why would she ever want to be out of a body that's dancing with Cap?
Eventually, Sam grabs a blanket and stretches out in the couch, which Tuff takes as her cue to leave.
"No, no, no escape, into my bed with you," Cap laughs, pointing down the hallway and heading to the bathroom to finally wash his face.
Tuff notes with some alarm that the bed is a twin; Cap makes her his little spoon, sighs with satisfaction, and nods off immediately.
Tuff can't sleep; her mind is racing, her anxiety mounting about the morning to come. Her PCOS has gotten worse recently, and she doesn't have her razor; she can already feel the stubble coming in.
She twists out of Cap's arms, props herself up on an elbow, and simply watches him for a few hours... storing water for a long trip across the desert.
Eventually, she slips out and drives back to school.
When she arrives at her apartment, she discovers that BatFeeder has broken in and is asleep in her bed.
"What are you doing here?" she asks.
"Hiding," he mumbles. "Kitty went into labor."
"You broke into my apartment so you wouldn't have to be there when your daughter was born?" Tuff says, horror-struck.
Soon after, her phone rings: she has a brief conversation with one of her and BatFeeder's mutual friends.
"Who was that?" BatFeeder asks.
"Victor," Tuff says. "Congratulations, you're a dad."
"What? How does Victor know?"
"Victor knows, because when Kitty called him about going into labor, he got on a fucking motorcycle in a fucking thunderstorm and drove six fucking hours across the fucking state in case she needed him. That's why Victor fucking knows."
BatFeeder tries to touch her; Tuff springs back.
"Get out. GET OUT! If I have to look at you, I'm gonna throw up."
BatFeeder gets out, and Tuff sinks into her computer chair, blinking in disbelief.
If I started driving right now, I might make it back to Cap's before he wakes up. I could bring breakfast for him and Sam, and that way it wouldn't be so weird that I left for a while and locked the door behind me... I could be there, where it's happy and awesome and fun, instead of here, where it's a crazy, horrible soap opera that never seems to fucking end.
But, of course, she talks herself out of it.
She'll never know how Cap felt when he woke up and discovered that she'd vanished in the night.
By the time Tuff moves home, Cap's not around very often; he and Sam are having Adventure Time.
They move to Ireland for a few months, working under the table in a pub; after that, they're off to Prague, and then they live in a monastery for a few weeks, adhering to the rule of silence and helping the monks brew beer.
Tuff's dazzled by their stories, awed by their daring. Their world has become so big, and hers has shrunk so very, very small.
The night the millennium turns, the divide between them seems greater than ever. Cap and Sam have taken off on a grand, spur-of-the-moment roadtrip to New York to watch the ball drop from Times Square itself... and Tuff's at a shitty, sad little New Year's party in someone's tiny, drab apartment, watching the same scene on an old, tiny television.
And Tuff's worried sick, not about Y2K itself, but about what the frothed-up Y2K nutjobs might do. If someone's going to set off a bomb or something, Times Square on NYE would be the #1 place they'd do it, right?
Don't hurt Cap, oh please, oh please, oh please...
When the ball drops, and nothing happens, the relief makes her weak-kneed. Everyone's kissing and hugging and jumping up and down, but she only has eyes for the screen, even when Thor grabs her and gives her a kiss that has an uncomfortable amount of tongue trying to happen in it.
This is the first time Thor's ever kissed her, and he pulls back to find Tuff beaming. He grins in return.
"Cap and Sam are safe!" Tuff says happily.
Thor turns away and stalks off. Tuff barely notices.
Cap and Loki invite Tuff and Natasha out for Valentine's Day...
... and don't show up.
Cap has a long talk with Tuff about moving in together, and says he'll call her soon to work out the details...
... then signs a lease by himself and never mentions it again.
Sometimes, Cap greets Tuff by grabbing her up and whirling her in ecstatic circles; sometimes, he acts like he's annoyed she exists. Tuff can't figure out what the pattern is; it makes her brain itch.
And then, [Famous Magazine] contacts Tuff for an interview.
They get through the actual questions, and then the interviewer reveals that she's a huge fan of Tuff's blog.
Totally off the record, she'd love to know... what's going on with Cap?
Tuff's a little star-struck; she tells her, and then bounces like a bunny all over town telling everyone and their dog she's going to be in [Famous Magazine].
The day the magazine comes out, Tuff flies down to the bookstore to buy a copy.
She opens it, thumbs to the article, and dies.
The article, which was originally supposed to be a factual look at the history of blogging, has been "sexed up". And the human interest hook that begins in the very first fucking sentence of the article and repeats throughout?
The will-they-won't-they story of Tuff and Cap.
Tuff's spent three fucking years twisting herself in knots trying to prevent Cap from finding out that she likes him, AND NOW IT IS PRINTED IN MOTHERFUCKING [FAMOUS MAGAZINE].
Tuff briefly considers attempting to buy every copy of [Famous Magazine] in the entire city, but settles for lying to all of her friends and telling them that the article was canceled.
But the horror isn't over yet. The article gets put into a fucking textbook, and the textbook gets digitized, and for years, if you Google Tuff's name, you get pages of results about her crush on Cap.
The world has a new landmine lurking in it, one that could potentially go off at any time... and when an actress with the same name as Tuff gets cast on a TV show and takes over the Google results, Tuff's so relieved she wants to drive to Hollywood and give the woman a hug.
She never does find out if Cap ever saw the article.
Friday, July 4th, 2003
Beer. Fireworks. Fireflies. Crawfish.
Cap lives far away now, but he's home for several days, doing a double feature of Capella's wedding and Thor's annual Fourth of July party on his family's farm.
And, yes, he looks up and does a double-take when Tuff arrives in her sexy little dress and impractical heels.
He leads her over to the picnic table, where he's laid out everything he's about to cook.
"So, uh, Thor told me you're vegan now?" Cap says. "So I went back to the store and tried to get you some stuff... can you look at this and tell me if you can eat it?"
Tuff seizes him in a hug. "I'm not a real vegan, it's just this diet I'm trying, but you... you are so fucking sweet, Cap, that was so thoughtful..."
"Jeez, Tuff," Cap blushes, kissing the top of her head. "It's just some vegetables and shit..."
"Shut up and let me appreciate you, dammit," Tuff barks into his chest.
"Sassy!" Cap chuckles, impressed. "Wanna be my sous chef tonight?"
Tuff does, yes, very much, and she's even more pleased with her decision once the grill really heats up and Cap removes all non-essential clothing. He's absolutely drenched in sweat and, according to Tuff, the sexiest thing ever to exist on the planet.
Cap and Tuff have always fallen into a natural sync when they work together, and that afternoon, it all comes back. They bust their asses in a tandem dance that seems to require them to touch each other more and more often as the hours wear on.
"Thanks, baby," Cap murmurs as she hands him a spatula, and Tuff freezes. Did he just call her what she thinks he just called her?
And yeah, he did, 'cause he does it a few more times, and when he helps her pin her hair up, his fingers trail down her spine in a way that makes her bite back a moan.
Cap winks at her and goes back to wrangling the flames.
Later, Tuff's not entirely certain how, she ends up in the hammock with him, tangled up in their old pretzel and having a conversation that's theoretically just about sex in general, but is totally them bragging to each other about how good they have become at it.
Oh — and establishing firmly that they are both 100% single at the moment.
I don't know what the fuck is going on, Tuff thinks happily, But this is the best party ever.
The night wears on, the flirting grows more outrageous, and finally, Cap whispers huskily in her ear that he's sleeping in one of the beds in the cabin that night, and she should share it with him.
Fireworks and rainbows and Muppets and lollipops explode out of Tuff's ears while the entire cast of Glee sails in on a magical cotton candy cloud singing the Hallelujah Chorus and doing jazz hands.
Okay, maybe that part didn't happen.
But that's totally what it felt like.
Tuff and Cap walk to the cabin, and somewhere in Tuff's head, Beavis and Butt-Head are very enthusiastically announcing that she is gonna score.
"Where are you two going?" Thor asks commandingly.
"To the cabin?" Tuff says.
"I have a bed for you at the house, Tuff. You sleep in the house."
MOTHERFUCKER, DO NOT DO THIS TO ME, Tuff tries to telegraph with her eyeballs.
It is not very effective.
"Aw, c'mon, Thor," Tuff tries, "I haven't slept in the cabin in years. It'll be fun."
"You wanna sleep in the cabin? Fine. Come on," Thor says, grabbing Tuff's hand and hauling her cabin-ward. She glances over her shoulder at Cap, who is looking a little stunned by this development, following at a distance.
"Lay down," Thor commands, pointing at the couch.
"Um, okay," Tuff says, and does. What the hell is Thor doing?
Thor opens a chest, pulls out an assload of blankets, and proceeds to put them all on Tuff.
"Are you... tucking me in? Seriously?" Tuff asks in astonishment, as Thor busily tucks the huge, heavy pile of blankets under and around her, swaddling her like a newborn. "It's July..."
"There you go, dear," Thor says, patting her on her million-blanket covered knee. "Sleep well, and don't move."
And Thor plops down in the recliner next to the couch.
"You're... you don't want to go sleep in your own bed?" Tuff asks.
"Nah, I'll hang out here a while. Goodnight!"
What. The. Everlasting. Fuck.
It is the least subtle cockblocking that Tuff has ever witnessed in her entire life, and she lies there in her sweaty Thor-cocoon, wondering why in the hell he's done it.
Is he trying to protect her from Cap?
Trying to protect Cap from her?
Cap's in the little loft just upstairs, and Thor's nodding off now. She could sneak up there easily once Thor falls asleep.
But... but. What if Thor knows something she doesn't, something worth throwing himself bodily in between them?
Or what if Cap actually meant to just sleep, and her coming up there looks all desperate and creepy and makes things weird again?
In the end, she stays put, hoping like hell that Cap will come down to get her.
But she doesn't move, and he doesn't either, and when she wakes up in the morning, he's left for the wedding.
Late 2003
Cap's supposed to be at this party, but when three hours pass and he still hasn't shown up, Tuff joins the drinking game in progress.
She catches up quickly. Tuff drinks maybe once a year, and her body's smaller than she's used to; her already low tolerance is through the floor.
And, of course, that's when Cap finally arrives.
Tuff is a funny, affectionate, and outgoing drunk; people love it when she's wasted, and she doesn't disappoint this time, keeping everyone in stitches and at one point, falling off a hay bale.
At some point, she ends up in a private, unusually serious conversation with Cap; her head's swimming as she tries to keep up with what he's telling her about his new life, his new town, his new job.
"That sounds so lonely. Are you lonely? I worry about you a lot," Tuff says, swaying a little.
"You don't need to worry about me, Tuff," he smiles.
"I can't help it. You're awesome, and I want only awesome things to happen to you forever, and it bothers me when you're not here, and things make you sad, and I can't punch them for making you sad. I don't even know you're sad. It hurts my heart."
A little later, the alcohol's hit her even harder; this may be when she actually fell off the hay bale. Either way, the next thing she knows, Cap's carrying her back to the house.
"You saved my life, you know," she slurs. "Long time ago."
"I did no such thing."
"No, you did. You don't even know. And if you ever need a kidney or something, you call me. You can have it."
He laughs. "You are so drunk."
Inside the house, he sets her down, but she won't remove her arms from around his neck.
"You're my favorite person in the whole wide world, and I miss you every day."
"You're just saying that because I'm gone the most," Cap says uncomfortably.
"No, it is true! It is true and a fact."
Behind Cap, Tuff can see Natasha, who is slicing her finger repeatedly across her throat in a frantic cut-it-off gesture.
"That's all," Tuff finishes primly, and lets him go.
Cap leaves, and Natasha drives Tuff home.
"Jesus, Tuff, now I know why you never drink," Natasha laughs. "Do you want me to tell you that you did this tomorrow, or not?"
"Don't even care," Tuff mumbles into the seatbelt. "Glad I told him. Wasn't chickenshit for once, and I. Don't. Care."
"I think you might feel differently tomorrow."
Natasha, as usual, is right.
It's the last interaction Tuff has with Cap, until the letter.
The letter's my fucking fault, y'all.
I talk Tuff into writing it.
In my defense, I tell her to write to Cap and lay all her cards out on the table. What does she have to lose at that point? She sees him maybe once a year.
A few days later, Tuff informs me that she's written the letter. Hooray!
She offers to let me read it, and sends me a copy. But the more I read, the more my stomach sinks.
"Tuff," I say, "Please tell me you haven't already sent this thing."
"Sent it this morning. What, is it bad?"
Tuff has chickened out, joked up, waffled, backtracked, avoided vulnerability, and talked in circles so hard in this stupid letter that you'd need a degree in cryptography to figure out what her fucking point is.
"I LIKE U DO U LIKE ME 2 CHECK YES OR NO KTHXBI" would have been a major improvement.
Neither Tuff nor I have been able to find a copy of this letter — we were both on Hotmail back then, and it was long gone by the time she got into therapy and wanted to see it again — but if I remember right, she'd wussed out so hard that she actually came off like she was apologizing for not having romantic feelings for him.
A few hours later, Cap replies: it's brutally brief, and boils down to "Don't worry about it."
Tuff's head explodes. "What do I do, what do I do, do I write him again, what do I do?"
I tell her to chill out, take some cleansing breaths, DO NOT write him any more psycho word spaghetti, and just explain herself the next time she sees him.
But there is no "next time she sees him".
There's no "next time she talks to him", either.
Nine years pass, with zero contact between them.
She friends him on Myspace; he disappears from Myspace.
She friends him on Facebook; he disappears from Facebook.
Blocked? Deleted? Coincidence? Not? Tuff doesn't know.
He still comes to town, but she's never invited to hang out with him. She always hears about it afterwards, once he's gone again.
Over time, her sadness takes on a sharpened, well-fuck-you-too edge.
Which makes the whole getting-married thing a lot easier.
Tuff is so nervous, she's practically vibrating.
It's not her birthday, but it is her birthday party; for a few years now, she and all her fellow Scorpios have held a joint party around Thanksgiving, when more of them are in town.
And this afternoon, she'd gotten a text from her fellow Scorpio, Tony.
You're hard to shop for, so I'm bringing you a present from [city Tony recently attended a convention in] that I know you'll really like. And his sister, too.
Tuff only knows of one person who lives in that city.
Someone she hasn't seen in nine years.
She doesn't know whether to kiss Tony, or strangle him.
She's standing by Natasha's back gate, rearranging party food for the billionth time just to have something to do with her hands, when she hears a voice call her name.
Tuff turns around, and sees him.
"It was like... every light in the world suddenly turned back on," she tells me later. "And it had been so long, I'd forgotten those lights had ever worked at all."
Cap holds out his arms, and Tuff steps into them.
For fifteen seconds, you can go home again.
And then she steps back, hugs his girlfriend and Capella, makes pleasant, normal introducing-sounds with her face. So far, this is going great; her amygdala's mostly behaving itself as she moves aside to let the others greet him.
She tells me: "I was doing pretty well, considering that every thought in my head had been replaced with CAP CAP CAP CAP OMG CAP CAP CAP. I'd forgotten that he always turned me into a Golden Retriever."
"Then what happened?" I ask breathlessly. I've waited a long, long, fucking time for the next book in this series, dammit.
"I sat as far away from him as geometrically possible and pretended he didn't exist."
"TUFF!" I explode.
Tuff selects her loudest, most talkative friend to sit next to, striking up a conversation about Doctor Who that she knows will send the other woman into an impassioned monologue. It's the perfect cover, and now she can just sneak an itty-bitty peek at...
Or not so much with the sneak, really, because Cap is flat-out staring at her like he can't believe she's actually real.
They both glance away quickly, but a minute later, catch each other staring again. This repeats all night long.
He still loves me, Tuff thinks, then spends the next fifteen minutes mentally kicking her own ass for being arrogant and presumptuous and awful, because she's Tuff.
Finally, she thinks up a legitimate excuse to talk to him, because not having seen him in nine fucking years is apparently not good enough, and calls his name.
He looks up, and their eyes lock and hold for the first time in nine years.
The experience is so intense, Tuff is slightly worried that it counts as adultery.
Later, people are swapping photos around, and Tuff gets in on the action, selecting an especially cute photo of her daughter on her phone and sending it around the circle.
It reaches Capella first, who exclaims that she's adorable. She passes the phone to Cap, who hands it straight to his girlfriend.
"She's beautiful, Tuff," he smiles politely.
You didn't actually look at her, Cap...
But she realizes that maybe, just maybe, she knows why he always blocks her on everything.
They leave early, and Tuff gets one last Cap-hug, trying her damnedest to remember this. His height, his face, the way his sweater feels against her cheek, the curl of his hair against his forehead.
But then he walks through the gate, and the night swallows him up.
And Tuff tries to picture what he looks like, and fails completely.
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