TITLE: Life Revised
AUTHOR: isisgoddess2000
EMAIL: isisgoddess2000@hotmail.com
RATING: R for language.
SPOILERS: Anything and everything Faith, general knowledge of Season 6 events through Normal Again.
SUMMARY: Faith sends Buffy a letter, requesting a visit.
FEEDBACK: Yes please!
DISCLAIMER: Joss, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. own all, not me.
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask first.
The letter came without warning. In the middle of life, or getting back to it. Things starting to slip into place, routine, the daily grind. But it was good… sort of. Then this. With no explanation. Just some directions and instructions for visitors, and a little post-it note: "Please come. June 9, 2:00. It's important. Faith." Cryptic much? Even ignoring the obvious; visiting a prison? In L.A.? Setting foot in that city never ended well. If this visit took place, and that's a big if, there had to be some ground rules. No dad, no Angel. There and back, day trip, no stops. Better not to think about it, because it wouldn't be happening anyway. Probably. Maybe. Besides, what could be so important? Knowing Faith… But that was the point, right? Of prison? It had been two years. She had only first met the younger slayer three and a half years ago. People change. She had confessed, gone willingly. And there was no doubt in Buffy's mind that Faith could have left that place any time she wanted to. Slayer strength. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Anyway, all that old anger? It was the habit of another girl. One who was self- righteous and sure which lines weren't to be crossed. That Buffy would never visit the younger slayer in prison. But this Buffy, the resurrected one, she just might. She might have some things to say to Faith.
And it was this line of thinking that led her to this place, these halls, remembering the smell of the truck, the feel of the shackles when the council had kidnapped her. As Faith. Wondering what it must be to spend years inside these walls. Buzzing, clanking, yelling… crying? And these were the sound of a Sunday afternoon, being led through hallways as to avoid the general population on the way to the infirmary. Was she sick, injured, dying? Time to play confessor to a fevered last utterance? And had Faith repented enough to earn peace afterward? Jesus, shut the fuck up with that! To think that, to propel it into being… just stop. But keeping the mind racing helps to block out the other things that threaten to surface, memories of a different time, a different life, a different girl. But they were both different now. How far to the goddamn infirmary anyway? Twists, turns, halls, sliding metal doors…
"Here you go." Said the guard. They had stopped in the middle of a hallway, a row of doors, glass on top. Blinds closed. "You go on in and I'll be at the end of the hall. There's a red button on the wall next to the bed. Press it and a nurse will come running."
"Will you?" Mouth so dry she wasn't sure how the words had managed to come out. And were her palms sweaty?
"That won't be necessary."
"Is she… handcuffed?" Sure, jump to your death with hardly a second thought, but visit some girl who'd tried to kill you – and vice-versa – and lose your lunch. Makes sense. Perfect Buffy-world sense.
The guard chuckled. "No."
"And you'll be down the hall? All the way… there?" Of course, Faith wasn't just some girl. Let's at least be honest about that much.
Another chuckle. "Nervous?"
"No! Not… nervous. Just… cautious. Track record and all."
"Trust me, she's not getting out of that bed."
And with that the guard left. Shoes squeaking as she walked, keys tinkling together, clanking as they collided with the nightstick hooked into her belt. A turn into the small office they had passed, and Buffy was alone. Guess that guard didn't know what had happened the last time someone said Faith would never get out of a bed. Why had she decided to come here?
Forcing all those thoughts away, mind deliciously blank as she stepped toward the door, slayer senses going at full throttle. She had known Faith was in this room the moment she entered the prison. Could have closed her eyes and still found her way down this hall. She shut them now, attempting to pick up any sound on the other side of the door. Girl in the next room praying, rosary clicking amidst the whispers. Coughing and wheezing at the end of the hall. The guard singing under her breath in that tiny office as she started her paperwork. But from this room… heart monitor beeping. Very fast. Very, very fast. A slayer's heart was slower, big muscle from all the fighting (killing), taking its time to circulate blood. God, something was wrong here.
And it hit her quite suddenly that Faith knew she was standing there. That slayer sense wasn't hers alone. That the same action was being performed on the other side of this glass – listening, waiting. And waiting seemed pointless now. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the room.
"Wondered how long you were gonna stand out there."
TBC
AUTHOR: isisgoddess2000
EMAIL: isisgoddess2000@hotmail.com
RATING: R for language.
SPOILERS: Anything and everything Faith, general knowledge of Season 6 events through Normal Again.
SUMMARY: Faith sends Buffy a letter, requesting a visit.
FEEDBACK: Yes please!
DISCLAIMER: Joss, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. own all, not me.
DISTRIBUTION: Please ask first.
The letter came without warning. In the middle of life, or getting back to it. Things starting to slip into place, routine, the daily grind. But it was good… sort of. Then this. With no explanation. Just some directions and instructions for visitors, and a little post-it note: "Please come. June 9, 2:00. It's important. Faith." Cryptic much? Even ignoring the obvious; visiting a prison? In L.A.? Setting foot in that city never ended well. If this visit took place, and that's a big if, there had to be some ground rules. No dad, no Angel. There and back, day trip, no stops. Better not to think about it, because it wouldn't be happening anyway. Probably. Maybe. Besides, what could be so important? Knowing Faith… But that was the point, right? Of prison? It had been two years. She had only first met the younger slayer three and a half years ago. People change. She had confessed, gone willingly. And there was no doubt in Buffy's mind that Faith could have left that place any time she wanted to. Slayer strength. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Anyway, all that old anger? It was the habit of another girl. One who was self- righteous and sure which lines weren't to be crossed. That Buffy would never visit the younger slayer in prison. But this Buffy, the resurrected one, she just might. She might have some things to say to Faith.
And it was this line of thinking that led her to this place, these halls, remembering the smell of the truck, the feel of the shackles when the council had kidnapped her. As Faith. Wondering what it must be to spend years inside these walls. Buzzing, clanking, yelling… crying? And these were the sound of a Sunday afternoon, being led through hallways as to avoid the general population on the way to the infirmary. Was she sick, injured, dying? Time to play confessor to a fevered last utterance? And had Faith repented enough to earn peace afterward? Jesus, shut the fuck up with that! To think that, to propel it into being… just stop. But keeping the mind racing helps to block out the other things that threaten to surface, memories of a different time, a different life, a different girl. But they were both different now. How far to the goddamn infirmary anyway? Twists, turns, halls, sliding metal doors…
"Here you go." Said the guard. They had stopped in the middle of a hallway, a row of doors, glass on top. Blinds closed. "You go on in and I'll be at the end of the hall. There's a red button on the wall next to the bed. Press it and a nurse will come running."
"Will you?" Mouth so dry she wasn't sure how the words had managed to come out. And were her palms sweaty?
"That won't be necessary."
"Is she… handcuffed?" Sure, jump to your death with hardly a second thought, but visit some girl who'd tried to kill you – and vice-versa – and lose your lunch. Makes sense. Perfect Buffy-world sense.
The guard chuckled. "No."
"And you'll be down the hall? All the way… there?" Of course, Faith wasn't just some girl. Let's at least be honest about that much.
Another chuckle. "Nervous?"
"No! Not… nervous. Just… cautious. Track record and all."
"Trust me, she's not getting out of that bed."
And with that the guard left. Shoes squeaking as she walked, keys tinkling together, clanking as they collided with the nightstick hooked into her belt. A turn into the small office they had passed, and Buffy was alone. Guess that guard didn't know what had happened the last time someone said Faith would never get out of a bed. Why had she decided to come here?
Forcing all those thoughts away, mind deliciously blank as she stepped toward the door, slayer senses going at full throttle. She had known Faith was in this room the moment she entered the prison. Could have closed her eyes and still found her way down this hall. She shut them now, attempting to pick up any sound on the other side of the door. Girl in the next room praying, rosary clicking amidst the whispers. Coughing and wheezing at the end of the hall. The guard singing under her breath in that tiny office as she started her paperwork. But from this room… heart monitor beeping. Very fast. Very, very fast. A slayer's heart was slower, big muscle from all the fighting (killing), taking its time to circulate blood. God, something was wrong here.
And it hit her quite suddenly that Faith knew she was standing there. That slayer sense wasn't hers alone. That the same action was being performed on the other side of this glass – listening, waiting. And waiting seemed pointless now. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the room.
"Wondered how long you were gonna stand out there."
TBC