Author: Arieanna
Rating: I'm going with a PG-13 for this chapter, but it is going to heat up later.
Pairings: Wesley/Faith (of course), Fred/Gunn, and eventually Angel/Cordy
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They belong to that God that is Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, a bunch of others that aren't me, and the wonderful actors that portray them every week. If they belonged to me, I'd be rich, and I'd surf all day. I just wanted to borrow them and let them have some fun.
Spoilers: This is up to the episode "Double or Nothing", and then I go off into my own little play land.
Distribution: If you like it enough to put it on your site, go for it. Just let me know where it will be, please.
Summary: After Wes is shunned by his AI family in the aftermath of Connor's disappearance, he is completely alone. Or is he? His rogue slayer returns, wanting to make amends.
My Notes: Well, someone on the board asked who you would like most to return to the show, and I always wanted Faith to return. And I wondered, what happens when a watcher and a slayer go from teacher/student to something more. This is my first fanfic, so be gentle with me!
Reviews: Feel free to state your opinion. If it is criticism, make it intelligent. But not flamy!

One Breath at a Time

******************

With a sharp exhale of breath, she blew a stray curl out of her face.

She hated the curls. They were girly, pretty. Everything she wasn't. That's why she fought so hard to tame them. Tried to banish them. But it didn't always work. A little moisture, and there they were. Like most things in her life, she couldn't will or wish them away.

But for today, she had encouraged them. Because they ere girly, because they softened her. The slick lawyer had told her it would help. The slick lawyer had told her a lot of things. Except why he had helped. She was pretty sure it had to do with screwing somebody over. But she didn't really care. She had wanted to make amends, and she didn't think that she had been making any progress where she was. So, when the lawyer had come to her, she had just gone with it.

When she had looked into the hammered piece of tin that she called a mirror that was secured to the wall across from her cot, she had had second thoughts about the hair. But she had done it. Because the lawyer had said so.

And he must have known, because she was standing there, wasn't she? Standing outside, with the wind blowing her damned dark curls around her face. And there were no chain link prison fences in sight.

She felt like a fraud, standing on the courthouse steps in a skirt suit, with the dark curls softly framing her face. But she was free. And now she could make amends. She could start on the path of her redemption.

"Faith?"

She turned towards the slick lawyer, watched as he ran his right hand through his hair. He did that a lot. Did things with his hands. Faith thought about that Not hands. Hand. The right one. Almost like it was new, and he was still savoring that newness. Overused, in the way one would play a new CD non-stop for the first little while. Until the novelty wore off. She thought it strange. But there were strange things about her too. And he never brought them up. So she never voiced her curiosity about the hand.

"Yes Lindsay?"

"Did you need a ride somewhere?" He looked sincere, and Faith once again wondered at his motives. Wondered, but didn't ask. Everyone had their secrets. She certainly had hers. And she didn't want Lindsay to know them. That's why she wouldn't take the ride. Where she was going was part of her secret, and part of her redemption. And Lindsay wasn't a part of that.

"No thanks." The brunette nodded to the backpack at her feet. "It's not like I have a lot to carry." She chuckled. It came out rough, and cynical. She'd have to work on that. "Besides, I'm sure you have better places to be." She took a deep breath, wondered how to say what she had to say next." I don't know why you did this for me." She held up a hand to keep him from answering. "And I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. But thanks."

She shook his hand, having noticed that he enjoyed that, and swung her backpack to her shoulder. "See ya, Lindsey."

"No offence, Faith, but if you're going where I think you're going, I don't think I want too."

She laughed at that. And although it came out rusty with disuse, it actually sounded genuine. And she smiled a small smile, leaving the lawyer standing there on the steps.

Lindsay stood and watched. He watched her go. If things worked out as foretold, she would both clear his debt, and be his payback.

*          *          *          *          *

"Charles?"

"Hmm?" The tall man raised dark head from the suitcase he was packing to look across the bed at his girlfriend. He felt awkward, standing there, in Wes's apartment, Packing Wes's clothes.

And he was angry, although he didn't let her see it. They were taking time out of the perfect day that he had planned, the day that Cordelia gave them off, to do this. For Wes. Wes had betrayed them. And Fred was still sticking up for him. He wanted to do this as quickly as possible.

He looked at Fred, and that just made things worse. Gunn was sure that Wes had pictured Fred in his bedroom. And Gunn figured that it hadn't been in this context.

Fred was looking at the book on the bookstand.

"Should we bring him something to read? But maybe he won't have time. They might check him out soon." She shook her head. "No. Books are a bad idea. It'd make him think of work, and work would make him think of Angel. And he should just rest, and get better. No, no books." She turned slightly, picking up a CD case. "Maybe music?"

She was so sweet, his Fred. Constantly trying to make things better for others. Even this. But Gunn was little concerned. She seemed to be trying too hard with the watcher. Did she feel something more for friendship then this man? This man, whose name no one else was even speaking? Gunn hoped not, especially considering what he had to do today to keep her safe. She looked up from the bag they had finished packing, and smiled. Gunn decided he didn't care how she felt about Wesley. She had chosen him, and that was all that mattered.

*          *          *          *          *

The door to his apartment was slightly opened, almost as if somebody had pushed it closed behind them and the latch hadn't caught. She should knock. Faith was fairly certain that if she knocked, the door would swing inward. But she decided to knock anyway. She wasn't the break and enter kind of girl. At least she was trying not to be.

Faith raised her hand to knock. That's when she heard the voices. Her hand came to rest on the door, and it swung open further. And the voices became clear. Two voices, male and female. Maybe she had the wrong apartment. But that's when she heard the words.

"Do you think Angel will ever forgive him?' The voice was feminine. Light, with the soft drawl of a southern accent, not Cordelia.

"I'm sure he will sweetie, it just might take a hundred years." Husky, tough, like the street kid that Faith had been. Faith was tempted to stick her head around the doorframe to see him. The muscles under her skin, over her muscled, twitched with it. With the urge to throw open the door, and leap in headfirst. But she fought it. Instead she listened to the little voice in her head that told her to get a handle on the situation, before she went in with guns blazing. Strangely enough, that little voice sounded a lot like Wesley. It sounded more like him with his every visit, his every phone call. Another one of Faith's secrets. She had seen Wesley since, well since "the incident", as he had taken to referring to it.

*          *          *          *          *

She didn't know what has prompted that first visit. When they has led her to the seat behind the glass, the mockery of a visiting room, she had been expecting Angel.

Truth be told, Faith hadn't been expecting anyone. Ever. Prison had a way of robbing you of expectations. And Faith had had very few to begin with.

When they came in that first time and led her to the visitor's room, trudged her  down the hall in that ugly orange jumpsuit, she had thought that it was Angel again. She really hadn't expected him to ever come back. But he had said he'd keep in touch. She had wanted to know how Wesley was holding up. What she had done to her watcher was one of her biggest regrets.

But when the guard had led her over, had pushed her down into that chair with what seemed like the force of the world, the face staring back at her from the other side of the marred plexiglass wasn't the vampire. It was the watcher.

The face of her greatest shame.

Sure, she had killed a man. But that had been a slaying accident. And there were other things. But nothing so heinous as torturing the one person in the world that she was meant to learn from. To grow with.

Sure, he had turned her into the council. But prison left you with a lot of time to ponder, and Faith had come to the conclusion that Wes had done it for her. To make things right. To keep her safe. That's the kind of man he was.

She had no idea why he had come. And even less of a grasp about why her heart had expanded and had seemed to beat for the first time in months at the sight of the forgiveness in the eyes behind those respectable British spectacles.

How could he forgive her? And why did it matter so much?

She never really knew why he had come that first time. He seemed to be dealing with something that had been deeply buried. Something in his own self that he had to overcome.

He told her he forgave her, and something seemed to lift off of his shoulders. Just a little, but noticeable enough.

When he got up to leave, she was sure he had gotten whatever it was he had come for., and she was pretty sure that he would never come back.

Faith would never know what it was that had made her speak. Would she someday discover what that was, that ache that had welled up in her heart, that had forced the words past the sudden constriction in her throat? Words that she has never had had any intentions of thinking, let alone saying. Words that had leaked past her lips, escaped without volition. Words soaked in a voice filled with tears, and a lost child's re-found hope.

"Would you be my watcher again?"

The words had stopped him in his tracks, had forced his eyes back to the glass. Had made him meet the stare of an oh so lost slayer. And that's when it began. With occasional visits, weekly phone calls, Wesley had become her watcher again. And the slow evolution began. The transformation into the person that she was trying to become. A person with strength. Not just of body, but of mind, and of heart as well. A person who accepted who and what she was. Who was willing to give her life to her destiny.

That's why she was standing outside of Wesley's apartment, instead of on the nearest steamer to Canada. She wanted to be his slayer again.. She was his slayer again. Someday she would have to ask him why he said yes.

So she was at his place to report to her watcher. And it was his words that ran through her head as she stood there listening to the voices.  "Sometimes using your mind is more important than using your fists."

She needed to know what was going on. Questions ran through her head as fast as a freight train, with the same force behind them. Who are these people? Where was Wesley, Why were they there when Wesley was not?

Faith recalled her watcher telling her that they had new employees at Angel Investigations since she had been there. And a new office, in a hotel. And that Angel had flaked for a while, and that Wesley was the boss. So, were these them, the new employees?  They knew Angel, and Wesley, obviously, since they were in his apartment without him.

Why would Angel need to forgive Wesley? Faith needed answers, and she intended to get them, without her fists.

She searched her mind, through all of the new knowledge Wesley had been trying to fill her with.  She fumbled for their names as she pushed open the door, knowing that Wes had told her.

They had come to her when she stepped into the living room, and she had to fight to retain them as she heard the women's next words.

"We should get back to the hospital."

Hospital? By this time, the pair was fully in Faith's field of vision.  Hospital? The word through her mind, burned like acid. That didn't mean it was Wesley. Then she caught sight of the bag clutched in the hand of the tall black man. And her heart stopped. Her brain nearly shut off. But she forced it to attention. The man, Gunn, she remembered, he had a bag. For the hospital. Full of Wesley's things. So he wasn't dead, anyway.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but did you say hospital?" Faith asked, as she tried very hard not to stutter. Thinking instead of fighting was much harder the n Wesley had made it out to be. She'd have to tell him that, when she saw him. But to see him, she would have to find him.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Charles, hush," said the woman. Fred, Faith remembered. Wes had always gotten a certain look on his face when he mentioned her. Faith had figured that Wes was dating her, or wanted to. But as the slayer looked at the restraining hand that Fred had laid on Gunn's arm, it was obvious they were a couple. And she wondered how Wesley felt about that. And if he hurt, Faith would hate these people for that. And she didn't know why.

"I know that I came in uninvited, but the door was sort of opened." She brushed a curl out of her eyes, and remembered she was still wearing her disguise for the court. She quickly made a decision. These people didn't know who she was. If they worked for Angel, and Wes was I some kind of trouble with the vampire, then maybe they shouldn't know.

"I'm Wesley's, um, cousin." She would have to stop stuttering. Liar's stuttered. It wasn't a great start, but it wasn't violent either. It'd do. "Sarah. Sarah Pryce." Faith decided that she'd never be able to pull off the stuffy British name. But Pryce was part of it, and believable for an American relation whose branch of the family had shortened the last name. Her heart thudded against her chest like a cadged beast. It wanted to get out and fight. But she wanted to be good, wanted to try it Wes's way.

"Did I hear you folks say hospital?" Faith cringed. She never used the words folks. She must have been trying too hard.

"Oh, um,' the other woman stammered. "Hi. Sorry, I'm Fred, and this is Charles." He glared at her. "Gunn, Charles Gunn. Everyone just calls him Gunn though. Did Wesley know you were coming? He didn't say anything. Then again, he can't talk . . ."

Faith cut her off with a sharp look and an upheld hand. It was almost as effective as slamming her against the wall, which was what Faith would have normally done. The severe look was not a bad technique, but Faith doubted that it would have the same affect on vampires. But she was learning that you generally didn't have to be as rough with people as you had to be with the undead.

"Can't talk? And did you say hospital?"

Fred looked like she was going to speak again, but Gunn beat her to it.

"Yeah, Wes got um, attacked a couple of nights ago." The man seemed to picking his words very carefully, trying to keep it as normal as possible. It seemed as if it was something to do with work, and Gunn had no idea how much "Sarah" knew about Wesley's work. Gunn would be shocked to learn just how involved "Sarah" was in the supernatural.

"It was a kidnapping. They took the baby he was watching."

The girl cut in then, like something cosmic was pulling the strings, compelling her to give Faith the information that she wanted. And Faith was in for a shock.

"They took our boss's son Connor. Well, Angel's not really the boss anymore, but the company is named for him. Wes is the boss. But, I guess not anymore, because Angel's a little mad at him. Well, more than a little, I'd say . . ."

Faith cut her off again, with the hand. No words. Because all the words were stuck halfway. Her mind spun. So many thoughts, and none at all were coherent. Just one phrase that bounced around her frozen brain. Angels baby. There was something seriously not right with this situation. What in the hell had her watcher been keeping from her?

The words 'That's impossible' pounded in her head, in her throat, wanting to escape the prison of her lips. They stuck on that heavy spot that she tried to swallow. It gave her time to think a second, but luckily, that's all it took. She couldn't be shocked. She couldn't hit, and force, and demand answers. She wasn't Faith, the rogue slayer. Not to them. And would Wes tell his cousin that his boss was a vampire?

Maybe. But probably not.

When she could speak, what Faith said instead was, "Can you take me to see my cousin?"