WARPED REFLECTION

(Part Thirty-six)

By Ruth Quist

Rating: T (for language and violence, same as show)

Disclaimers: This fan fiction is copyrighted (2004) by the author. No infringement on the rights of Mutant Enemy, Inc., Greenwolf Corp., Lazy Dave, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Twentieth Century Fox Television, UPN or The WB, or any other legitimate holders of copyright for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, or any other characters contained therein is intended. This material is produced entirely for the entertainment of fans. No profit is made.

"Honey, you just keep talking to him," the nurse spoke cheerily to Fred as she adjusted an IV drip.

Fred looked up at the nurse's words, barely managing a bemused "Huh?" The night was passing in dreary monotony, only the monitor breaking the silence with its blessed regular beeping.

The nurse finished and looked at Wesley briefly and said to Fred, "Whatever you're saying, sweetie, it's helping. His oxygen levels have been steadily improving since you started talking. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to talk to the doctor about removing the tubes." The nurse beamed at Fred, who beamed back.

As the nurse moved away, Faith teased gently, "You sayin' sweet nothings in his ear?"

Fred said with some spirit, "Of course." Both women smiled and Fred adjusted Wesley's blanket watching each change of the numbers on the monitor that came with each rise and fall of his chest. By now, she knew which numbers needed to go up and which needed to go down—and which were just right.

Faith carefully kept her eyes on the magazine she wasn't reading as she commented, "Ya know, I'm thinkin' if he's getting better because of you talking, he must be in there," she looked up and tapped her head with her finger meaningfully, "you know what I mean?"

Fred looked at Faith hopefully, "Do you really think so?"

"Speakin' from experience," Faith shoved her chair back so it balanced precariously on its two back legs, "—and believe me, I've got a lot of the whole unconscious-slash-coma thing under my belt—in my opinion, if he weren't there, he wouldn't care, and if he didn't care, he wouldn't be getting' better." Faith rocked her chair back and forth as if testing the limits of the chair's defiance of gravity.

Fred, her eyes wide, looked at Faith and then at Wesley. The physicist couldn't stop herself from asking, "I was wonderin'…what happened between you and Wesley, Faith. Charles mentioned there was some kind of history between you, but he wasn't sure exactly what kind." She spoke hesitantly, "Were you two…an, uh, item?"

Faith laughed harshly; then she spoke and her stark words shocked Fred, "I tortured him, Fred. Beating, knives, fire, the whole five torture groups were on the agenda." Faith kept her eyes down, fascinated by her hands for some reason as she dropped the useless magazine and admitted, "I got to three of them before Angel stopped me." Despite Fred's horrified gasp, Faith plowed on as if this was an ordeal she must endure (one of many necessary for redemption), raising her eyes to face Fred's wrath directly, "I tortured him and the next day, he helped Angel save me when he could have just turned me over to some council goons that came to take me out," she looked at Fred with asperity, "permanent-like. Ya know what I mean?"

Fred knew what she meant, "How can he…"

Fred didn't know how to ask, but Faith understood, "How can he work with me? How can he get beaten one day and help me the next?" Faith dropped the chair down softly, so as not to disturb her watcher. She said with a sort of wonder to her voice, "Because he's a good man. A real watcher—not like one o' them voyeuristic bookworms—but a real watcher. Because he can forgive. Not then, because nobody can just let that ride unless they're stupid—and he's not stupid." Faith gripped the handrail tightly, trying to contain her emotions so she could get her meaning out, "But like Angel, he can believe in possibilities, in something that might not be there today, but might be there tomorrow. So he saved me then and, later, when he wanted to save Angel, he got me and worked with me. And now," Fred thought she saw a hint of moisture in the other woman's eyes that added a glittering intensity to her words, "he can forgive."

Faith let go of the handrail and looked at Wesley, speaking fiercely, "The world is better for having people like Wesley Wyndam-Pryce in it. We can't afford to lose him." Faith looked away and so did Fred, giving the slayer a moment to compose herself. Faith leaned back again with studied nonchalance, finishing almost carelessly, "So you keep talkin', cause I learned to believe in possibilities, too. And I believe he's hearing you."

Faith started rocking again and pretending to read. Fred watched her for a moment in a combination of awe and astonishment. Then, Fred gripped Wesley's hand and spoke softly again—speaking of endless possibilities.

…..

She pressed her face between the rails at the top of the stairs—unnoticed as usual. Something was wrong. Mummy had gone in and out of the nursery endlessly. Then came the visits from the doctor; the grim whisperings before his rapid steps into the nursery followed by more urgent whisperings after his exits. Then came the sure-fire sign that something was wrong; Father came back early. Father never came back early. She listened from her invisible spot on the stairs as the doctor talked, using mostly words she couldn't understand, try as she might. All she could do was take note of them to try to look them up later in the dictionary as father expected her to do. That aside, however, she could understand the whiteness of her mother's face and the even grimmer than usual set of her father's jaw. She knew something was wrong with one of the twins and it was confirmed when the doctor finally said, "I'm sorry. He may never walk." She knew what that meant. She had to cover her mouth with both hands to stop herself from gasping aloud. The doctor then continued with something that was probably meant to be soothing, "It is for the best that you've separated them. Wouldn't want both of the little nippers placed at risk."

At the words, her father tensed, his hands fisted, and he turned away abruptly.

The doctor had pulled out a journal and said gently, "I know this is very distressing; however, I need his name. For the record, you know," he prompted softly.

Just as abruptly as he had turned away, her father turned back, and spoke harshly, "His name is Wesley…Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." Mary felt a momentary exultation, it was the other one. Not the heir. She almost immediately felt guilty for feeling that way. It wasn't Wesley's fault that he was the other one. Her father mostly referred to the boys as the twins. But when he referred to them by name, it was invariably Winston and the other one. She knew what being the other meant. It meant not being noticed, unless it was for something bad. It meant never doing things right. After all, she was another other too. Her mother gave a small sob and stepped up to her father, trying to speak. But he shook his head and patted his wife on the shoulder awkwardly, saying, "Better go to bed. The nurse has things in hand for now. You'll need your strength tomorrow." Her mother stood for a moment, uncertainly, and then, at a look from father, she slowly walked up the stairs to their bedroom. Mary scrambled to hide in one of the alcoves set at regular intervals along the long hallway, scooting back to hide in the shadows created by the dim lighting. After her mother had closed the door, Mary crouched down, moving gingerly up the rail again to peer down at the two men.

As her father showed the doctor to the front door, Mary resolved that Wesley and her would be 'others' together. She was much older. After all, she was seven and knew how the world worked. He wouldn't face things alone like she had. He had her.

"I'm glad to hear that Wesley's doing better," Giles stirred his coffee as slowly as he spoke. They were having a quiet meal in her hotel dining room before she went back upstairs and he went back to work.

Mary smiled as the waitress finished pouring her coffee and moved away. "Yes, perhaps he'll be off of the oxygen by the time I get there. Although, I don't think I'll be able to go until morning."

"How did your conversation go with your father?" Giles asked mildly, but his eyes brightened with interest.

"Oh, about as well as any similar conversation could go with my father," Mary paused for a moment thinking, "or perhaps any conversation at all—with him." She tilted her head and smiled wearily, "There was much gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair (his) and other grotesque male chauvinist pig rituals. However, no ritual sacrifice of maidens was required, so all is well. I'm far more concerned that he not go to the hospital. That's the last thing Fred and Wes need right now. It's taking a lot more manipulating than I expected to keep him away, though. Fortunately, the solicitor is hitting some major snags back home, so that's helping." She twirled a lock of her blonde hair absently and picked up her cup of coffee. After a sip, she asked, "So, how's it going on the Winston front. Any clue yet where he's hiding?"

Giles cleared his throat and turned his cup round and round in its saucer, "No, not really. We have a few leads but nothing concrete as yet." He looked up at her and then back down at his cup, "What are your immediate plans? Have you been exiled or are you still staying at the hotel with your father? Do you need other accommodation?"

Mary smiled, mischievously this time, "Is that a roundabout way of asking me to move in with you?"

Giles looked horrorstruck, "No! Of c-course not! I-I simply thought I'd l-lend a hand if you needed it. I never m-meant to imply…"

Mary pushed at his shoulder playfully, "Calm down, I have no illicit designs on you, Rupert." Giles avoided the need to speak by taking a calming sip of coffee but choked at her next words as she peered thoughtfully at him, "Not yet, anyway."

Mary patted his back considerately while he coughed, as she made soothing noises. Giles thought there was altogether too much levity in her tone for his comfort.

He waved off her 'assistance' and looked at her carefully, his voice firm, "Are you avoiding answering my question? Do you need help?"

Mary sighed and sat back, fiddling with the handle of her cup, "No." At his look, she said firmly, "Really. I'm still staying with father at the moment, but if I have to move, I assure you, I have sufficient resources to do whatever I wish. However," she smiled with disconcerting perceptiveness, "speaking of avoiding questions, why do I have the feeling you're avoiding mine about Winston?"

Her gaze made Giles feel like he was a particularly interesting specimen of insect about to be skewered for display as he prevaricated, "Why, um, would you ask that? I've told you the truth."

"Perhaps," Mary conceded, "but I…" Giles' cell phone rang and he fumbled it out and open, grateful for the interruption. That is, until he realized that it was Angel on the other end. His guarded conversation with the vampire did nothing to reduce Mary's suspicions and, as he was agreeing to meet Angel to follow up a strong lead, he could see that leaving was going to be very problematic—if the stormy look on her face was any indication.

"You've discovered Winston's whereabouts, haven't you? Mary's voice was deceptively calm as he hung up. She sounded very like her brother—or, even worse, her father—at that moment. Echoes of the days under his unfortunate tutelage came to mind.

Giles sighed, "No." He hesitated briefly, then continued reluctantly at her obviously growing anger, "We may have found someone who knows where he is though. We thought it would be better to try to deal with this ourselves while everyone else is so involved with Wesley's condition."

Mary nodded, "I agree that Fred need not be bothered with such details and I'm certainly not going to argue that Wesley hasn't been through enough, not to mention his total incapacitation at the moment, but why attempt to exclude me? I'm his sister. I have a valid right, even need, to protect him."

Giles protested, "This creature has special abilities that make everyone vulnerable to attack mentally. You know what it was like at the warehouse."

"Yes, but you obviously aren't letting that stop you?" Mary pointed out.

"True, but watchers and their slayers and apparently the undead have some protection from this thing," Giles looked at the tablecloth with apparent fascination.

"Rupert, I'm a watcher," Mary reminded him tersely.

"I know that. I-I…oh, damn," Giles frustration made him uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Finally, he sat back in resignation, "Angel would have to call at this moment." Leaning forward again, he made another stab at explaining himself, but could only say lamely, "I d-didn't want you to get hurt."

Giles winced at the hurt evident in her angry reply; pain he had inflicted, "You sound just like my father! What were you thinking, Giles,"

Giles winced again as he had gone in her estimation from Rupert to Giles in just seconds. He rubbed his still healing forehead, as he said ruefully, "I imagine I was thinking just like Angel. I wanted to protect someone I care about."

"Protect me! That's my father's excuse, too. That's it, isn't it? Protect the pathetic women and children. I'm too weak and incompetent to defend myself." She pushed her coffee cup away furiously, as her sarcasm grew, "Is that how you see me working in this brave, new council you've been talking about? Getting you and the other men coffee and files and telling you all what great big men you are, while you do the important work?"

Giles face whitened at her words, "No! No. I…I didn't mean it like that."

She looked at him sourly, "Then how did you mean it?"

"It's just…," Giles mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

"Yes?" she pressed.

Giles blurted out, "I lost someone I loved before. She…she was killed because…she was close to me. I just…I didn't want…" He clutched his coffee cup so tightly that Mary was afraid he might shatter it.

Mary put her hand over his, loosening his grip as she spoke, softening her tone, "We're in a dangerous business, Giles. By all rights, both of us should have died when the council blew up." Giles looked up and met her eyes stoutly for the first time since the conversation had begun, listening to her words intently, "We could die and that's just the way it is. Should I stop fighting for what I passionately believe in because of that?"

Giles released the endangered cup and intertwined his fingers with hers, "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself. I've just seen so much death and destruction that I wanted to try to protect some small precious part if I could. I just didn't want to risk someone I…uh…"

Mary leaned closer, her hand gently gripping his, "I love you too, Giles."

He looked startled and then his eyes began to shine with some inner realization and he smiled.

Mary smiled back, softening her next words, "Don't you think I would be devastated if you died running off with Angel to 'protect' me? Either of us may die at any time. It's part of the lifestyle we've chosen. But know this, if I die, I will have died the way I wanted to live; because I'll have really lived. Not some kind of half-life like my mother but really lived. I'll have no regrets and I hope that you will feel the same."

Giles nodded, unable to speak.

"The only thing I would regret is if we lied to each other about how we feel. Wasted any more time because we don't really have the time to waste," Mary's smile grew mischievous again, "considering our advanced age."

Giles wasn't up to feeling humorous about the conversation yet, as he said soberly, "That was one of my greatest regrets with Jen…" Giles paused, uncomfortable at mentioning Jenny Calender's name.

"The other woman you loved?" Mary asked gently.

He nodded, his eyes down.

"She knew, Giles."

He looked up uncertainly, "How can you know that? You never even met her."

"I can see it in your eyes. Your eyes never lie—not about the truly important things. They are like beautiful windows to your soul. Your love shines out more expressively than words, as if you were shouting it to the world." She cupped the side of his face gently, "If I can see it, how could she not?"

She added offhandedly, "Of course, we women like words too."

"I d-do love you, Mary. I didn't think I'd ever love anyone again, but I love you." The smile that broke on his face was rare, genuine, beautiful.

So was hers as they moved in to kiss.

Giles said tongue-in-cheek, finally ready to lighten the tone, "That was a pretty big crush you had on me at the Academy, wasn't it?"

Mary replied offhandedly, "Oh, just a schoolgirl thing. After all you were the perfect antithesis of father and his suppose criteria for a 'good' boyfriend. I use to fantasize dating you and then telling him." Both grinned at the thought. Mary continued more seriously, "But I knew a good thing when I saw one, even then, which is pretty amazing if you consider my 'daddy' issues. No one I met along the way ever met up to my ideal." Giles blushed. "I think I always knew, deep inside, that no one else would do—even though you didn't know I existed."

Giles warned, "I will face risks without you. Like you say, it's part of the job."

"So will I," Mary agreed. "As long as we respect each other and face things together honestly, even when we're apart, we'll be fine."

"Together," Giles agreed.

"Together," Mary echoed.

Outside, a large city went about its business, traffic roared and honked, but inside, they were alone, together.

To be continued…

Author's note: Good news!. I'm far enough ahead that there shouldn't be any delays on the next two updates. I'm trying to get ahead enough so that I can keep updating regularly when school starts. We'll see. By the way, sorry about forgetting to change the chapter number last time. I don't use a beta, so all mistakes are mine, mine, mine! Oops!

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Thanks to Rainbow's End! Yes, the time is drawing near for Winston and Daddy dearest to get there respective backsides kicked! We still have a little way to go, but we're almost to the final storyline (2 chapters from now). Thanks for hanging in there. I'm happy to answer reviewers. I appreciate the reviews as it's the only pay I get (besides inner satisfaction at learning to write better), so answering them seems only fair. Glad you like Faith and Mary, cause there's quite a bit of them in this chapter. Thanks to Spuffyshipper! Short but sweet. Thanks to gopie! Much of Gunn will be explained next chapter. Good catch! I think they always portrayed him as a man who had feelings of inadequacy because of his background but presented an image of competency. This attempts to crystallize these feelings and deal with them. Selene's gonna be back! Bet on it. Thanks for comparing me to someone else you really like! Magic hands thing is important! Maybe not in the way you're thinking though. More later (quite a bit later). Yeah, couldn't resist the Gollum thing, Peter Jackson's movies are great. I will try to remember to mention what the better question is when it comes up in the plot. One hint, it's very similar to yours. Definitely more plot and twists coming. Thanks for explaining the bunny!