Disclaimers and story info live at Chapter 1.
"Quinton? You've talked to Quinton? I guess that shouldn't surprise me. He always shows up when you don't expect it."
"No shit. By the way – nice job, B. You've got him by the balls. All of them."
What the hell did Quinton have to do with anything? Come to check out the latest exhibit of the slayer freak show? Or abscond with the exhibit in hand? "You shouldn't trust him. He and I may be on agreeable terms now, but what he did to me, had Giles do to me-"
"I was there, remember? You told me all about it. Cruciamentum. And I don't trust him. I was as shocked as you are when he showed up. But he got me this private room, a doctor who knows about a slayer's anatomy, and he got you in. I mean, it's almost impossible to get a new visitor approved. Especially to the infirmary. Risk factor."
"Quinton didn't just come by with "A Slayer's Guide to Pregnancy" and a box of diapers. There's more to this than you're telling me."
"Yeah, there's more. A lot more. Hope that chair is comfortable. But first – I've got to get up for a minute." With that Faith threw back the thin white sheet and slowly swung her legs over to the side of the bed. Toes barely touched the floor. She leaned back a bit on her hands, counterbalancing the weight in front. "You know what I really miss?"
"What's that?"
"Being able to paint my toenails. No nail polish allowed here. Not that I could anyway. I don't even remember what my feet look like. Isn't that strange?"
"Oh, that's strange? Let me tell you a little story about strange. It all starts with a cryptic letter in the mail…"
"Yeah, well, what should I have written? 'Got knocked up, come to L.A. and hear all about it?' Besides, I can do cryptic. I'm good at it. You can't have multiple watchers and not learn a thing or two about cryptic."
"True. I thought you weren't supposed to be getting out of that bed."
"Not without a nurse, but I need some water."
"You stay put. I'll get the water." She stood, grabbed the pitcher from the stand at the foot of the bed, and filled the little dixie cup beside it. "This going to be enough?" Raised eyebrows as she handed the cup to Faith.
"Yeah, thanks. I have to pace myself. Don't want to head out to the bathroom just yet. And when did you learn how to play nursemaid?"
"Got some practice with my mom."
At this the younger slayer's shoulders dropped, eyes glued to the floor as Buffy reclaimed her chair. "I know coming from me, it's- And I know I shouldn't even- But I am so sorry about your mom. Joyce was… I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
Faith sighed heavily and shook her head. "I should've been there last year. Glory was a two-slayer job."
"Angel fill you in on that?"
"He gave me the play-by-play. But I knew. I felt it in my gut when it happened, when you jumped. I sat up in bed and knew you were gone." Two pair of eyes briefly locked. "Must be a slayer thing. Did you know when the other-?"
"No."
The room filled with unspoken words as the fetal monitor continued to thud quietly. The shock had worn off; situation blazing in reality, but a surreal quality remained. Remorseful Faith? She'd caught a glimmer of it before, thrust back into her own body at the church… Not that this was any stranger than a pregnant Faith.
"There's some things I need to say to you. About before."
"You don't have to-"
"God dammit, B!" Okay, this was a little more familiar. "How can you just sit there? Why did you even come here? Don't you want to scream or yell, or at least tell me to fuck off?!"
Shadow of a smile passed across her face before answering. "Maybe I should. But when I was… gone, I was at peace. And all of it, with you, it was finished. That anger died with me." Even a resurrected Buffy was surprised to hear these words. The dead girl inside, clinging desperately to memories and rage, shrunk back a bit more. Maybe this would be the final blow to send her packing.
The strangeness only multiplied as Faith attempted to discreetly wipe a tear from her cheek. "Pregnancy hormones. Fuck."
Smile came to light. "You really should watch the language, you know. That baby has ears."
"Well, she's heard it all by now."
"Jesus. She?"
TBC
"Quinton? You've talked to Quinton? I guess that shouldn't surprise me. He always shows up when you don't expect it."
"No shit. By the way – nice job, B. You've got him by the balls. All of them."
What the hell did Quinton have to do with anything? Come to check out the latest exhibit of the slayer freak show? Or abscond with the exhibit in hand? "You shouldn't trust him. He and I may be on agreeable terms now, but what he did to me, had Giles do to me-"
"I was there, remember? You told me all about it. Cruciamentum. And I don't trust him. I was as shocked as you are when he showed up. But he got me this private room, a doctor who knows about a slayer's anatomy, and he got you in. I mean, it's almost impossible to get a new visitor approved. Especially to the infirmary. Risk factor."
"Quinton didn't just come by with "A Slayer's Guide to Pregnancy" and a box of diapers. There's more to this than you're telling me."
"Yeah, there's more. A lot more. Hope that chair is comfortable. But first – I've got to get up for a minute." With that Faith threw back the thin white sheet and slowly swung her legs over to the side of the bed. Toes barely touched the floor. She leaned back a bit on her hands, counterbalancing the weight in front. "You know what I really miss?"
"What's that?"
"Being able to paint my toenails. No nail polish allowed here. Not that I could anyway. I don't even remember what my feet look like. Isn't that strange?"
"Oh, that's strange? Let me tell you a little story about strange. It all starts with a cryptic letter in the mail…"
"Yeah, well, what should I have written? 'Got knocked up, come to L.A. and hear all about it?' Besides, I can do cryptic. I'm good at it. You can't have multiple watchers and not learn a thing or two about cryptic."
"True. I thought you weren't supposed to be getting out of that bed."
"Not without a nurse, but I need some water."
"You stay put. I'll get the water." She stood, grabbed the pitcher from the stand at the foot of the bed, and filled the little dixie cup beside it. "This going to be enough?" Raised eyebrows as she handed the cup to Faith.
"Yeah, thanks. I have to pace myself. Don't want to head out to the bathroom just yet. And when did you learn how to play nursemaid?"
"Got some practice with my mom."
At this the younger slayer's shoulders dropped, eyes glued to the floor as Buffy reclaimed her chair. "I know coming from me, it's- And I know I shouldn't even- But I am so sorry about your mom. Joyce was… I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
Faith sighed heavily and shook her head. "I should've been there last year. Glory was a two-slayer job."
"Angel fill you in on that?"
"He gave me the play-by-play. But I knew. I felt it in my gut when it happened, when you jumped. I sat up in bed and knew you were gone." Two pair of eyes briefly locked. "Must be a slayer thing. Did you know when the other-?"
"No."
The room filled with unspoken words as the fetal monitor continued to thud quietly. The shock had worn off; situation blazing in reality, but a surreal quality remained. Remorseful Faith? She'd caught a glimmer of it before, thrust back into her own body at the church… Not that this was any stranger than a pregnant Faith.
"There's some things I need to say to you. About before."
"You don't have to-"
"God dammit, B!" Okay, this was a little more familiar. "How can you just sit there? Why did you even come here? Don't you want to scream or yell, or at least tell me to fuck off?!"
Shadow of a smile passed across her face before answering. "Maybe I should. But when I was… gone, I was at peace. And all of it, with you, it was finished. That anger died with me." Even a resurrected Buffy was surprised to hear these words. The dead girl inside, clinging desperately to memories and rage, shrunk back a bit more. Maybe this would be the final blow to send her packing.
The strangeness only multiplied as Faith attempted to discreetly wipe a tear from her cheek. "Pregnancy hormones. Fuck."
Smile came to light. "You really should watch the language, you know. That baby has ears."
"Well, she's heard it all by now."
"Jesus. She?"
TBC