Twist of Fate: Chapter 26
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
"Mr. Lyle?" Willie called, breaking into the man's jumbled thoughts.
Then, as his eyes met the watery, nervous hazel eyes of his favorite computer technician, a wicked grin lifted his lips. "Mr. Broots!" he cried, lifting the bag of melted ice from the lump on his head and tossing it carelessly to the side, watching as the man jumped at his words, his eyes dancing back and forth between himself and the Slayer, still sitting poised off to the side. "Just the man I wanted to see!"
"M- Mister Lyle," Broots croaked, shuffling forward and trying not to wince as Lyle clapped him on the back - hard.
"Now Broots, what can you tell me about Sydney?" he asked, and by the way that the man's eyes widened slightly, it was evident that Sydney was not the name he had been expecting to roll off of his tongue.
"Sy-Sydney?" he squeaked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. "I-I don't understand. Sydney?"
"Yes, Broots, Sydney," Lyle confirmed with a frustrated sigh. "The man who clocked me with the butt of a gun and then ran off with our recently-returned Pretender."
"Sy-Sydney? W-with Jarod?" Broots parroted, his eyes widening as he nervously began twisting his hands before him. "B-but I.. he-he didn't say. I-I haven't s-s-seen him," he stammered.
With a long suffering sigh, Lyle wearily pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting nothing more than to stop the man's sniveling - which was when he raised his head, a new sparkle in his eye. "Now Broots, how is that daughter of yours?" he asked, his smile growing as he draped an arm casually across the quaking man's shoulders. "Debbie, right?"
Instantly Broots felt a quiver of fear snake through his body like a shot of liquid ice. "B-but.. I-I-I don't know anything!" he protested, furious with himself for his weakness but unable to stop. Lyle didn't even have to make an open threat for Broots to know that the man could and would do anything to his little daughter to get what was needed. But this was Miss Parker and Sydney he was talking about - the only friends that he had in this world.
With a small smile, Lyle slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim phone, flipping it open and pushing one button. His eyes never leaving Broots, he brought the device to his mouth. "Yes, I want you to send someone to pick up Mr. Broots' daughter, Debbie-"
"No!" Broots interrupted, his shaking disappearing under a wave of anger - anger at himself for what he was about to do. Yes, it was his only friends he was talking about - but on the other hand, it was Debbie. "All I know is that Sydney was asking about Miss Parker this morning. That's it. That's all I know," he said in a hurried rush, his eyes locked on the hand that held the cell phone to Lyle's ear. For a moment, he thought it was all for naught until the hand shifted, pulling away from Lyle's ear as the man cursed quietly beneath his breath.
With narrowed eyes, Mr. Lyle moved away from Broots and lifted the phone to his ear once again. "Belay that last order. Instead, I want you to find out what my dear sister has been up to," he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "Find her."
Stricken, Miss Parker locked eyes with the Pretender before she slowly turned away, breaking contact as she forced her face back into an impregnable mask. If there was one thing that Miss Parker was always in control of, it was how she portrayed herself - affecting how others perceived her. And there was one thing that Miss Parker never let others see, at least when she could help it - and that was her pain. In this instance, her pain consisted of a wave of guilt as she realized that she was most likely too late. Too late before she had even begun. And even as the despair swept through her tall frame, Miss Parker felt a wave of anger burn away the weakness - an anger that was all too easy to find focus. She had always known how evil her brother was. How twisted. Yet she had never imagined that he would go this far. Never this far.
Yet Miss Parker failed to hide her reaction fast enough and Giles felt panic consume him as he pushed away from the counter. "What?" he demanded, his voice echoing loudly in the small room. "What are you talking about? What about Buffy?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly on his slayer's name.
Sighing, Sydney slowly lifted a hand to still the man's frantic questions. From the desperation in his green eyes, Sydney knew that he had found a fellow spirit in this man - both in a position to take care of their wards, yet not supposed to care... and unable to stop themselves. "Mr. Raines used to be a colleague of mine - a doctor at the Centre. A very different doctor than myself - one that is not guided by morals or medical compunctions," he explained, his words soft. "He has used series of drugs and unorthodox experimentation in the past to create such amazing successes as a human clone... and such horrific results as Angelo," Sydney murmured, a frown pulling at his lips at the boy no one was able to save - another victim of the Centre.
"Angelo first came to the Centre as a little boy named Timmy," he continued, pushing his dismal thoughts aside, "a young and gifted empath. But when Raines was through with him, his drugs enhanced the aspects that the Centre desired and destroyed the personality of Timmy until the man we call Angelo was all that remained."
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xander slowly shook his head. "But... it can be reversed, right?" As a thick silence fell over the room, Xander turned desperate eyes to Giles and then back to Sydney before finally landing on Jarod.
"It.. it has been done before," Jarod admitted, thinking back to the little boy that they had almost been too late to save. The one that Angelo had saved, forever forsaking his chance to regain what Raines' drugs had taken from him. "But I'm not sure that it could be repeated. There are too many varia-"
"It's doesn't matter," Giles interrupted, startling everyone with his words as he pushed away from the counter, his gaze sweeping over the friends and strangers alike that littered his small apartment. "At least, not now," he amended as Xander angrily stood to meet him. "We need to focus on getting Faith out of that-"
"Like hell we-"
"We do not have time to waste sitting here arguing! The Council is on their way, may have already beat us there, and unless we get there first then Faith will die and a new slayer will be called," Giles cut in, his voice harsher than he had intended as the boy stepped back as though slapped. "Xander, I don't like it any better than you, but this is what Buffy wanted," he murmured, watching as the anger burned in the youth's dark eyes even as once more Xander showed restraint and somehow managed to bite back his sharp retort. Sighing, Giles quickly turned and nodded towards the psychiatrist. "Now, can you help us or not?"
"If I can use your phone, then I believe I can start making arrangements now," Sydney replied, waiting for the man's nod before slipping out of his long, heavy jacket. "The rest of you should try to get this girl out of the hospital and back here to the apartment for now - I'll handle the remaining details."
As one, the group slowly stood and began gathering jackets and congregating in a mass before the door. "I'll drive," Oz offered, dangling his keys and eyeing the five other people that would be accompanying him on the trip. His van would be needed to fit them all, as well as Faith once they staged their rescue... which brought up a good question. "Uh... did anybody ever decide how we're getting her out?" he asked, stilling Giles' hand on the door.
"Well-"
"Giles," Jarod began, a bright light burning in his eyes as a grin all too familiar to Miss Parker lifted his lips, "what does a Watcher normally wear?"
With a staccato of hard soled shoes and three-inch heels, the three individuals moved briskly down the hospital corridor, their long dress coats swirling around their legs. As they neared the nurse's station that stood guard over the patient hallway beyond, one person stepped forward from the trio, clearing his throat softly to gain the woman's attention.
"Yes, can I help you?" the nurse asked, her eyes raking over the men's battered faces and over the cold, impassive face of the woman that accompanied them. All were unfamiliar to her and she found herself slowly straightening her shoulders under the one's piercing gaze. It felt as though she were being judged in some manner.
"Yes, if you could please escort us to the room of Miss Faith," the leader spoke in a clipped British accent, his brown eyes turning away from hers and staring pointedly down the hall where he knew their destination lay.
Instantly suspicious, the woman felt her eyes narrow as she once more took close stock of the visitors. The man who had spoken was tall, probably in his thirties, with the brief hint of a dark tie visible through the top of his long coat - and a face that was smattered with bruises and swelling. The other man, while slightly shorter than the first, was older, probably mid-forties, with a sprinkling of gray dotting his short hair and glasses perched atop the tip of his nose - a face that mirrored the other man's battered appearance. The woman who accompanied them, on the other hand, was a woman whose features seemed cut from the finest glass, skin pale and clear, thin lips painted dark and cold eyes that seemed to see right through her. The three made an impressive, if not battered, front. "Who are you?" she asked, her weary tone betraying her suspicions.
For a moment, the tall man's eyes narrowed before he nodded briskly at her. "I am Mr. Jarod Workshire," he said, his accent betraying his British origins as he turned and nodded to the woman beside him. "And my associates are Miss Parker, and... I'm sure you've heard of Mr. Giles," he added, smiling slightly as the woman's eyes widened slightly, confirming his own suspicions as to her identity.
"Certainly, Mr. Giles," she acknowledged, stammering slightly as she held herself even taller, "the Watcher of the other Slayer," she murmured before her eyes creased slightly. "But what on Earth has happened to the two of you?"
Relaxing slightly, Jarod leaned forward, almost imperceptibly as he gave the impression of camaraderie with the unknown woman. "Well, surely you've heard of the disappearance of the other Slayer last summer."
"Of course," the woman quickly confirmed, a small frown playing at her lips. "That's why the Council has finally come for Miss Faith - to call the next."
"Exactly," Jarod replied, his eyes crinkling as he smiled broadly at the woman, the consummate actor. "And in the meantime, myself and Mr. Giles have been working on the Hellmouth, doing what we can - but to be honest, we need a Slayer, now more than ever. Which is why we're here for Miss Faith."
Confused, the nurse slowly shook her head, her short hair bobbing around her shoulders. "B-but I don't understand," she stammered, her eyes dipping down to look at a folder that was opened on the desk before her. "Where is Mr. Travers?"
"Mr. Travers?" Giles asked quickly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yes, I just got off the phone with him and he said that he and the others were just pulling up."
"We're the others," Jarod filled in smoothly, smiling slightly at the ruffled woman. "Mr. Travers is waiting for us down in the car," he fibbed, turning up the charm a notch or two as the woman seemed to debate the validity of his words. "We brought clothes," he added as Miss Parker lifted a small bag of sweats before her.
For a moment more the nurse struggled with the decision before she shrugged casually. "Very well, then," she said, a faint smile finally lifting her lips. "If you'll follow me," she instructed, placing the file on the desk before her and beckoning the others to trail her down the corridor, finally stopping before an open doorway. "Now, if you gentlemen will wait out here while Miss Parker and I prepare Miss Faith," she added, missing the small look that was shared between the woman and Jarod before Miss Parker followed the nurse into the room.
Several minutes later - minutes that felt like hours to Jarod and Giles - the nurse reemerged, waving the men in distractedly. "Now if you will just wait right here, I'll go find us an orderly to help with a bed," she added before disappearing further down the hall towards a service elevator that sat at the end.
But even as the nurse was calling the elevator to their floor, Giles was already in motion as he hurried into the room and to Miss Parker's side. Before him on the bed lay a shell of the rogue slayer, her skin pasty white with dark circles lining her closed eyes, hair limp and framing her hallowed face. Yet the only thing that mattered to him was the fact that Buffy's old training clothes seemed to fit the girl, at least well enough to get her out of there. Grunting, he quickly lifted the comatose Slayer into his arms, silently grateful that her bed rest had emaciated her form enough to allow her to be less of a burden than in the height of her glory. Currently, she weighed almost the same as his own slayer.
"Giles," Jarod called out, finally abandoning the accent as he nodded from his position by the door, "we've got company," he finished, his eyes locking on the four men that were waiting at the nurse's station - the four men that looked prim, proper, and all too British.
"Travers," Giles confirmed, joining Jarod at the door, the slayer cradled in his arms as his eyes swept over the small group - eyes locking with the dark eyes of the head of the Watcher's Council. Cursing, Giles tightened his hold on the girl as Travers' eyes widened in recognition, his words lost to them as he and the others surged forward.
"Time to move," Miss Parker urged, pushing the guys from behind and into the hallway in the direction that the nurse had disappeared. Seconds later they were off and darting down the corridor as fast as they could move with Giles' heavy burden, Jarod taking the lead. For a moment, it felt like old times, Miss Parker's coat swirling around her legs as she kept her eyes focused on the Pretender's back before her, her heels echoing loudly on the hard linoleum, sounding like the rapport of gunfire. But it wasn't old times. Now, she wasn't running after Jarod, but with him. And this time, there was much more at stake than her father's praise - now, they held a girl's life in their hands. And most likely, theirs as well.
Eying a crowded tray of supplies, Miss Parker paused long enough to send the cart toppling to the ground, scattering the floor with medical instruments and hopefully providing their pursuers enough of an obstacle to hasten their getaway. Panting, she reached the hallway's end in time to slip through the closing elevator door, tumbling against Jarod and the bewildered nurse as a hand made a frantic grab for her, quickly pulling fingers back as the elevator door closed with a resounding thud behind her.
Cursing, Mr. Quentin Travers watched the lights above the elevator for the briefest of seconds before his eyes caught on the door behind them, clearly marking their means of pursuit. "The stairs, damnit, take the stairs!" he ordered as he himself dove at the door, the steel crashing open as he hurtled down the offending passageway. It would be a cold day in hell when he allowed a certain Mr. Rupert Giles to get the better of him.
He had no idea how the ex-Watcher had learned of their intentions concerning the Slayer Faith, but he had the bloody wrong idea if he believed that he could get away with interfering. He or his strange friends.