Disclaimer: There is no owning here. Instead, AiH would like to express her gratitude to Netflix for its Instant Watch feature.
"Faith Lehane?"
"That's me." Faith looked up from her fried chicken (which she rather suspected was neither fried nor chicken) to the uniformed head guard standing at the front of the room.
He glanced at her peevishly, as if he didn't much like what he saw. Faith knew it couldn't be her appearance. Her brown hair was still sleek from her last shower, and she only had one tattoo – a sign of extreme restraint in this place. Compared with some of the other women's rap sheets, one count of murder two wasn't that bad. Nope, it had to be her former fugitive status. Or the fact that anyone who seriously tried to mess with her ended up in the infirmary for a couple of weeks.
"You have a visitor," the head guard announced disapprovingly, as if girls like Faith shouldn't get visitors, even on visiting day.
"Lucky me," the Slayer cum convict murmured under her breath. Still, she felt a stab of curiosity. It had been a long while since her last visitor. Maybe Angel had decided to break his months' long silence. Perhaps Buffy or Giles or Wes or someone thought she was finally worthy of forgiveness. One thing Faith knew. It sure as hell wasn't going to be Cordelia.
Faith rose from the table quite happy to be leaving the dreadful pseudo-chicken behind. Tranquil and docile, she followed the guard out of the mess hall down to the visitors' room.
"Phone six," said the man curtly. Faith's eyes lit up when she saw the tall, dark-haired man sitting on the other side of the glass. She couldn't help it. She forced herself to walk slowly and sedately over to the chair. Try as she might, the young woman couldn't keep a smile off her face.
"Hey," Angel grinned when she picked up the phone.
"Hey, yourself."
"How've you been?" The two friends stared at each other, eyes tracing old scars and looking for new ones.
"Not too bad. Still alive, aren't I?" Her smile took away any sting the words might have had. "You?"
"Well, since it would take an extreme miracle to make me alive," he lowered his voice as he said this, "you must be better off than me. Anything . . . interesting happen since my last visit?"
Faith's eyes got cold. She shouldn't hold it against him; she knew he must have been busy, helping the helpless and all that shtick, but he was all she had left, and five months felt like forever in prison. When only one person seemed to care about you, thinking they might have abandoned you was terrifying.
Angel noticed the change and felt terribly guilty. "Look, Faith," he began, "I'm sorry. I should have visited or written or something. The thing is, I haven't really been myself lately." Quietly, the vampire explained about Darla, Drusilla, and Wolfram & Hart. Faith listened intently, her eyebrows climbing ever higher as the story progressed.
When Angel finally finished, she leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. "Whew. And I thought the chick who formed a gang intent on killing me was bad."
"What?" Angel spluttered. "Someone's been trying to kill you?"
"About once a month." Faith shrugged. "Don't worry, big guy. I can take care of myself. 'Least this way I'm somewhat in shape. Though I could use a vampire every now and then, just to keep in practice, you know? A vampire without a soul, of course," she added; Angel was looking slightly uncomfortable. "So you really locked a bunch of lawyers in a wine cellar with Darla and Drusilla?" Faith asked with an incredulous grin. "That's my boy."
"Faith . . ."
"What? People with souls can be just as evil as people without them. Trust me, I know. The world's probably a whole lot better off without those Wolfram & Hart creeps."
"That doesn't mean I had a right to let Darla and Dru kill them."
He had a point. "Okay, true. Still, now I guess we're at the same level, eh?"
"You sure you're not somewhere above me?" Angel teased.
"Pssht. Yeah. Right. It's back to good Angel, now, eh? No more Dark Angel? You had some kind of epiphany?"
"Dark Angel is gone. It's just plain old Angel now."
Faith rolled her eyes at his choice of adjectives. "And Wesley got shot? Poor Brit. That boy seems to always be getting hurt . . . no thanks to me."
"No thanks to us," Angel corrected gently. She smiled just a tiny bit. "Did I tell you he had a girlfriend?"
"No?"
"She's a rich wizarding heiress. Her father tried to sacrifice her to some demon goddess. Wes saved her life."
"Go Wes! I knew he had to be good at something." The young woman paused for a moment, biting her lip. "Tell him I'm sorry, would you?"
"Of course."
"Thanks. You say Cordy's still mad at you?"
"Sadly, yes." Angel looked chagrinned.
Tossing her head, Faith thought. "Hmm. The only thing I'd suggest is to buy her clothes. I think she'd forgive even Angelus if he got her the latest in one-of-a- kind couture clothing."
Angel touched his wallet wistfully. "Is it going to be expensive?"
"Probably." Faith laughed at his pained look. "We're talking about Cordelia here."
The vampire chuckled, then his expression changed. He put one hand on the glass window, palm flat, fingers splayed. Frowning, Faith glanced from Angel's face to his hand and back again. Then slowly, slowly, she lifted her own hand and pressed it against his.
"I've missed you, Faith," Angel said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.
Faith felt at once both incredibly happy and terribly sad. Happy because she knew he still cared about her. Sad because it would always be like this, with a layer of glass in between them. She swallowed hard. "I missed you, too."
They sat there for a minute in silence, eyes locked on each other, sharing all the t things they didn't dare say out loud. Finally Faith steeled herself enough to take her hand away. She set it in her lap, purposefully not looking at Angel. If he saw the wet glint in her eye, he ignored it. When she'd pulled herself together, Faith put her hand back on the counter.
"So," she said, grinning casually, "you sing any Manilow lately?"
Fin
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