A/N I know that it has been MONTHS since I updated this story, but, as some of you know, I've been having a rather eventful time in my personal life. I've been writing again, and hope to be able to post this more often. I hope that some of you are still reading it. And I dedicate this chapter to my ASSB support team. I don't think I'd be breathing these last two weeks without you.

Importance of Words

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Faith had taken what had been a cute, comfortable, post-hunting outfit on Fred, and had turned it into an outfit that had every male in the suddenly quiet gym looking up and taking notice.

Wesley saw why it was that she had taken the knife with her. The leggings were now very short, and on Faith, who was larger, though not in a bad way, then Fred, very tight.

The t-shirt, which had been a comfy fit on Fred, clung to Faith's larger frame. And it was now missing its sleeves. And a considerable amount of it's length, so that it showed off a large amount of the skin of Faith's flat stomach.

As Wes looked at his charge, all of his faculties seemed to desert him. All of the moisture vacated his mouth, leaving him feeling like a man that had wandered a vast desert for a large amount of time.

The book in his hands, useless as it was, suddenly slipped through his nerveless fingers. It hit the floor with a loud thump, snapping Faith's attention away from the ponytail she was reforming in her hair to her watcher. She hadn't even noticed the stares of the others that were scattered around the gym.

And when she saw that Wes had dropped his book, she was suddenly worried for his health and hurried to where he sat.

The few other men in the gym, all of whom had been intently watching the slayer, went back to their own activities. Even from across the room, those other men knew they had no chance as they saw the look of concern that the brunette had had in her eyes for the man she now rushed to.

"Wesley? God Wes, are you okay?!" Faith tried to keep the panic out of her voice as she knelt and picked up the book he had dropped.

Wesley cleared his long unused throat and got to speak before Faith could stop him.

"Faith, I'm fine. Just dropped my book."

"Well you look a little pale and it's not like you to . . . " Her voice drifted off as she realized that she was responding to something that Wesley has said. "Hey! You spoke! You shouldn't be speaking."

"The doctor said to limit the use of my voice, Faith. Not to stop speaking all together. You hadn't let me before now, that's all."

He looked at her again, what she had turned Fred's clothes into, and fought to divert that attention in his mind from the body of his slayer and the sudden tightening in his gut.

"Fred will be angry at what you've done to that shirt. It was one of her favorites."

"Wes, do you really give a shit at what Fred would think at this point?" The slayer's eyes snapped with anger. These people, the ones that Wesley had considered family, hadn't even bothered to call to see how he was, if he was still alive.

"Faith, they have every right to be angry with me."

His slayer started pacing in agitation in front of the bench where he sat.

"Bullshit Wes!!! If Angel can forgive me when I killed people, humans. I tried to kill him. A few times. He'd forgive you. And you didn't do shit to the rest of them."

"Faith, you don't know the whole story."

"Damned right I don't!" She whipped her head around to gaze sharply into his eyes. "And you promised you'd tell me when you could talk." She stopped pacing and stood in front of him, arms crossed defiantly. "And you can talk, so start talking!"

This was a conversation that Wes had not been looking forward to. And to tell her here, of all places. Well, he had promised, and she had waited long enough. He took a breath, resigned to relating the details of his greatest humiliation in the workout area of a run down gym, when his salvation came, in the form of the strawberry blonde man striding towards them, looking as if he had a purpose.

The young man stopped a few feet from Faith.

"I'm Rich Redstone," he introduced himself. "I heard that you're looking for some self defense lessons for the young lady?"

* * * * *

Fred was extremely frustrated. Things were just not how they were supposed to be.

She has tried to have her talk with Cordelia. Cordelia was the heart. Cordelia was the glue. Cordelia was the one that was supposed to hold things together.

But was that heart doing its job? No. Cordelia refused to even speak to Wesley. No one would speak to him.

At the same time, though, could Fred really blame anyone else for what was going on without taking some of the blame on herself? It's not like Fred had tried to talk to him herself.

Fred knelt on the floor, leaning back from her scrubbing, and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

How in the world was she going to put her family back together? At this point, she couldn't even clean the lobby floor.

* * * * *

Wes sat on the bench and watched Faith spar with her new "self defense instructor".

The former, and, with the return of Faith, once again watcher was impressed by how well Faith had done with keeping up her slaying abilities and reflexes while in prison. It couldn't have been an easy thing for her to do.

But she was out there, sparing like a pro. In fact, she was being a little overzealous. Wes was sure that he gentleman with her now would soon become suspicious.

"Faith," he rasped, trying to get her attention. His voice was rusty enough that he had to call out to the dark slayer another couple of times before she heard him.

She pushed a stray curl out of her face as she turned, and the movement strained the already taught fabric of her t-shirt, and Wesley felt his mouth go dry.

It took him a minute to remember what it was he wanted, and then he summoned her over.

"What's the what, watcher man?"

"It's good that you kept up with your calisthenics while you were away, Faith, but I am quite sure that you are making that young man suspicious."

"One, less words. You should be resting that voice." When he went to interrupt her, Faith cut him off with the hand movement he was beginning to learn meant that the girl would not accept any arguments.

"And two . . . "

Before she could finish the sentence, the young man who she had been training with appeared behind Faith.

He ran a hand through his strawberry blonde curls as he looked at the conversing pair.

"What's up? Is there a problem?"

"No, Mr. Redstone. No problem at all. I was just discussing with Faith . . . "

"How she was being too tough and she should tone it down a bit? It's okay, she told me." Wesley turned to Faith, shocked that she would reveal such a thing to a complete stranger, when he continued. "You her parole officer or something?"

"Her parole . . . ? Faith!" Wesley was relieved that Faith had not revealed her status as a slayer, but was still surprised that she would have brought up her time in prison.

"What? I was in the joint. I did good! I did my time, paid the price, etc. What's to be ashamed?" She turned to the man who stood beside her. "He's not my P.O." she told him with a snicker, "Thank the gods! He's more of a mentor, kind of, I guess."

Wes looked at the exchange, feeling lost, and tried to question the slayer again. "Faith! Don't you think . . .?"

"Wes, he noticed I was a bit further along then self defense, so I told him why I was so tough." She looked back at Rich. "Gotta learn quickly to take care of yourself in jail, or someone else will try to do the job for you."

She turned back to her watcher, thankful for the look of comprehension that was starting to filter into Wes's eyes. "So, since I don't need self defense, Rich is going to teach me to kickbox!"

"Yeah, Faith told me about her martial arts background. With that, it shouldn't take her long."

"Well, that might be beneficial, for you to have some structure and discipline, considering." Wes looked towards the window at the now setting sun. "But we should perhaps continue this another day? It looks to be about time to head out. And we have a conversation to finish."

"I guess you're right, wa . . .Wes. Thanks Rich. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Whenever you can, drop back in. Nice to meet you Faith, Wesley."

"You as well, Mr. Redstone." Wesley stood up, and shook the young man's hand.

"Rich, please. Well, I'll see you both again." He shot a glance at Faith. "Soon, I hope? Take care out there, it's almost dark."

With that cryptic parting comment, Rich Redstone turned and headed for his office.

Faith looked at the mess of books and papers still spread around Wes and bent to gather them up.

"C'mon and help pick this up, watcher boy. We have a talk that needs having."