Part 4 - A Visit
Faith padded down the corridor of C Wing with her escort, another orderly called Stan. He was always nice to her, not like the other one, the one in her room. She shivered at the thought of the other's vacant eyes, thick lips, the way he leered at her; she was sure he touched her when she was asleep, when he thought she wouldn't know. But she was sure he did.
Her slippers sushed quietly on the wooden floor. Stan walked behind, keeping an eye on her, though she'd tried to tell him there was no need. She wouldn't do anything, hurt anyone, even though she knew she had the strength and speed, things they would never have. More than they knew, perhaps. But the compulsion to kill, to hurt, was gone and she'd resigned herself to this. And perhaps, if she showed herself to be alright now, continued her good behaviour, her sentence in this place - she made a face - would be reduced. She wasn't sure if the Council would have any say over that, or whether it would be down to the hospital staff themselves. But now, at the moment, as part of the hospital security, she couldn't just wander round on her own. She sighed. At least her rating had been relaxed from "dangerous". Then, she'd been cuffed and hobbled and nearly carried to meet her visitors, and it had been in the secure area, with thick sheets of glass between them, communicating by
telephone. But several meetings with the hospital shrinks had convinced them she could be trusted, and now she just had an escort, was allowed to walk, free from restraints.
They passed doors on either side as they progressed, one or two open but most shut. She looked quickly away from the open doors; the occupants of those rooms were strapped to their beds, sometimes lying still in drugged stupors, sometimes thrashing, trying to free themselves. C Wing was the high security wing and her room was still there despite her relaxed status from "dangerous".
Faith unconsciously began to walk faster, waiting impatiently when the orderly stopped to unlock security doors as they passed through the hospital, through different wings, on their way to the day room. She lived for these visits. She was now allowed two a week, and they were all that kept her going. She even had permission to shower on those days and wash her thick, dark hair. Giles had come once or twice, reporting that the Council's delegation had returned to England, asking if she'd had any more dreams about the "bad thing." Faith had simply shaken her head. Her nightmares were back, some the usual ones, some not. But nothing like the one on the bus.
* * * *
She smiled in anticipation as they entered the day room, soundproofed to keep out the general din of the hospital, even though it was faint, here, away from the inmates in their locked rooms. It was where the almost normal patients were allowed to come, to watch television, to play board games or read books, under the watchful eye of attendant orderlies in a nearby nurses' station. It was empty at this time of day, set aside for people who dared to visit those relatives who'd been struck down by mental illnesses. There were very few of them, and Faith seemed to be the only one who had regular visits. Today, again, only Buffy and Willow stood there when she entered. She glanced at Stan for permission; he smiled slightly and nodded, then retreated to the station where he could watch TV and keep any eye on them all at the same time. Faith needed no urging; she ran across the room and flew into Buffy's open arms, hugging her tightly, inhaling the faint perfume of her, feeling
the silkiness of her hair. Buffy hugged her back just as hard, but concerned at the same time. Faith was so thin. After a moment, she stepped back, releasing Faith. Awkwardly, Willow stepped forward; she and Faith hugged briefly. Never truly friends, but both trying, now.
They were silent for a moment, all looking at each other. Buffy broke the silence, smiling warmly at Faith, though slightly frightened by the odd glitter of her eyes, the strained expression on her face, even though she smiled and was pleased to see them.
She asked the same question she always asked. "How are you?"
Faith tried to laugh. "Well, B, this is OK, waited on hand and foot......hell, could be worse." She grew serious. "But there's this guy. He's so gross. I think - I know he - touches me. When he thinks I'm asleep. He was in my room today." She shuddered. "And my dreams are - getting stranger. Something's - watching me. I feel it. Don't know what it is, but it's there."
Willow looked up. "Shouldn't you report him or something? And your dreams.. Isn't there anything else?" she asked. "I mean, have you actually seen anything it could be? Or is it just the watching feeling?"
Faith shrugged. "Who'd believe me? He works here, I'm just a crazy," she said bitterly. "And I don't know about the dreams. It's just there, is all. You guys are the research department, you figure it out." Psychotic tendencies might have been removed, but Faith was still Faith. "So, what have you guys been doing? How's Xander, and Anya? And Giles, how's he?" she asked, eager to hear of things outside her walled hospital prison.
Buffy and Willow began to talk, giggling and finishing each other's stories of the Scooby Gang, laughing at things that Faith hadn't been part of. Faith smiled though and watched their animated faces, smiling when they smiled, laughing when they laughed. But she still felt alone, deep inside. Her heart ached as she watched Buffy, golden skinned and beautiful. The time passed quickly, as it always did on their visits, and finally Buffy checked her watch.
Both she and Willow had been absently rubbing at their arms for some time without noticing the goosebumps that had risen, as the room grew steadily colder. The overhead light had also begun to flicker, pulsing, now dim, now bright, now dim, now bright.... Buffy paused uneasily, glancing at Willow then up at the ceiling. She looked at her watch.
"We should go," she said gently, glancing up from the watch face. "Faith? It's that - FAITH?" Neither of them had noticed that Faith had become silent. She sat, stiff in her chair, beginning to shudder, eyes wide and staring, face white. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath came in short, panting bursts.
Buffy and Willow exchanged frightened glances; Buffy began to rise to her feet. The room was much darker than it had been before, the light suddenly blinking out completely. As Buffy stood up, the air felt suddenly thin and strange; she swayed, thrusting out her arms, trying to keep her balance as black flowers bloomed at the edges of her vision. As the blackness overwhelmed her, she felt herself falling, tilting to one side. When she hit the floor, Willow falling next to her, she felt nothing.
Faith padded down the corridor of C Wing with her escort, another orderly called Stan. He was always nice to her, not like the other one, the one in her room. She shivered at the thought of the other's vacant eyes, thick lips, the way he leered at her; she was sure he touched her when she was asleep, when he thought she wouldn't know. But she was sure he did.
Her slippers sushed quietly on the wooden floor. Stan walked behind, keeping an eye on her, though she'd tried to tell him there was no need. She wouldn't do anything, hurt anyone, even though she knew she had the strength and speed, things they would never have. More than they knew, perhaps. But the compulsion to kill, to hurt, was gone and she'd resigned herself to this. And perhaps, if she showed herself to be alright now, continued her good behaviour, her sentence in this place - she made a face - would be reduced. She wasn't sure if the Council would have any say over that, or whether it would be down to the hospital staff themselves. But now, at the moment, as part of the hospital security, she couldn't just wander round on her own. She sighed. At least her rating had been relaxed from "dangerous". Then, she'd been cuffed and hobbled and nearly carried to meet her visitors, and it had been in the secure area, with thick sheets of glass between them, communicating by
telephone. But several meetings with the hospital shrinks had convinced them she could be trusted, and now she just had an escort, was allowed to walk, free from restraints.
They passed doors on either side as they progressed, one or two open but most shut. She looked quickly away from the open doors; the occupants of those rooms were strapped to their beds, sometimes lying still in drugged stupors, sometimes thrashing, trying to free themselves. C Wing was the high security wing and her room was still there despite her relaxed status from "dangerous".
Faith unconsciously began to walk faster, waiting impatiently when the orderly stopped to unlock security doors as they passed through the hospital, through different wings, on their way to the day room. She lived for these visits. She was now allowed two a week, and they were all that kept her going. She even had permission to shower on those days and wash her thick, dark hair. Giles had come once or twice, reporting that the Council's delegation had returned to England, asking if she'd had any more dreams about the "bad thing." Faith had simply shaken her head. Her nightmares were back, some the usual ones, some not. But nothing like the one on the bus.
* * * *
She smiled in anticipation as they entered the day room, soundproofed to keep out the general din of the hospital, even though it was faint, here, away from the inmates in their locked rooms. It was where the almost normal patients were allowed to come, to watch television, to play board games or read books, under the watchful eye of attendant orderlies in a nearby nurses' station. It was empty at this time of day, set aside for people who dared to visit those relatives who'd been struck down by mental illnesses. There were very few of them, and Faith seemed to be the only one who had regular visits. Today, again, only Buffy and Willow stood there when she entered. She glanced at Stan for permission; he smiled slightly and nodded, then retreated to the station where he could watch TV and keep any eye on them all at the same time. Faith needed no urging; she ran across the room and flew into Buffy's open arms, hugging her tightly, inhaling the faint perfume of her, feeling
the silkiness of her hair. Buffy hugged her back just as hard, but concerned at the same time. Faith was so thin. After a moment, she stepped back, releasing Faith. Awkwardly, Willow stepped forward; she and Faith hugged briefly. Never truly friends, but both trying, now.
They were silent for a moment, all looking at each other. Buffy broke the silence, smiling warmly at Faith, though slightly frightened by the odd glitter of her eyes, the strained expression on her face, even though she smiled and was pleased to see them.
She asked the same question she always asked. "How are you?"
Faith tried to laugh. "Well, B, this is OK, waited on hand and foot......hell, could be worse." She grew serious. "But there's this guy. He's so gross. I think - I know he - touches me. When he thinks I'm asleep. He was in my room today." She shuddered. "And my dreams are - getting stranger. Something's - watching me. I feel it. Don't know what it is, but it's there."
Willow looked up. "Shouldn't you report him or something? And your dreams.. Isn't there anything else?" she asked. "I mean, have you actually seen anything it could be? Or is it just the watching feeling?"
Faith shrugged. "Who'd believe me? He works here, I'm just a crazy," she said bitterly. "And I don't know about the dreams. It's just there, is all. You guys are the research department, you figure it out." Psychotic tendencies might have been removed, but Faith was still Faith. "So, what have you guys been doing? How's Xander, and Anya? And Giles, how's he?" she asked, eager to hear of things outside her walled hospital prison.
Buffy and Willow began to talk, giggling and finishing each other's stories of the Scooby Gang, laughing at things that Faith hadn't been part of. Faith smiled though and watched their animated faces, smiling when they smiled, laughing when they laughed. But she still felt alone, deep inside. Her heart ached as she watched Buffy, golden skinned and beautiful. The time passed quickly, as it always did on their visits, and finally Buffy checked her watch.
Both she and Willow had been absently rubbing at their arms for some time without noticing the goosebumps that had risen, as the room grew steadily colder. The overhead light had also begun to flicker, pulsing, now dim, now bright, now dim, now bright.... Buffy paused uneasily, glancing at Willow then up at the ceiling. She looked at her watch.
"We should go," she said gently, glancing up from the watch face. "Faith? It's that - FAITH?" Neither of them had noticed that Faith had become silent. She sat, stiff in her chair, beginning to shudder, eyes wide and staring, face white. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath came in short, panting bursts.
Buffy and Willow exchanged frightened glances; Buffy began to rise to her feet. The room was much darker than it had been before, the light suddenly blinking out completely. As Buffy stood up, the air felt suddenly thin and strange; she swayed, thrusting out her arms, trying to keep her balance as black flowers bloomed at the edges of her vision. As the blackness overwhelmed her, she felt herself falling, tilting to one side. When she hit the floor, Willow falling next to her, she felt nothing.