See Part 1 for disclaimers and story details.

Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for the fb! I truly appreciate your generosity. It makes my little heart float on a cloud all day. I hope you enjoy Part 2 as much. A special thanks to Lynette for taking the time to read this over, even though she's not a big Faith fan. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.

Part 2

Four hours and a battery of tests later found her sitting on a bed covered in white sheets waiting for her husband – she was still having trouble processing that one – and the doctor to return. The air conditioning whirred quietly, keeping the room just a little too cold.

She couldn't believe she'd lost three whole years.

The last thing she remembered before waking up in Jack's house was killing a racgang demon with Buffy. It had led them all over Cleveland and into the suburbs before they'd cornered it and put it out of its misery. But with its death, something within Faith had finally had enough. Enough killing, enough dying, enough blood and mayhem. Finally, simply enough. She'd handed her axe to B and walked away, ignoring the confused questions the tiny blonde had pelted her with.

And then woken up three years later. Jack's wife.

Her thoughts flew back to when the doctor, Brightman, had begun her examination. She'd gently run her hands over Faith's head looking for any bumps or soreness, a running stream of questions flowing out of her mouth.

"And you didn't hit your head last night or this morning?"

Faith's eyes had flown to meet Jack's and the guilt there had her curling her hands around the edge of the bed hard enough to leave imprints in the metal rail. He'd opened his mouth and she'd known what he was going to say. She beat him to it. "No. I didn't." A soft smile of thanks curved his lips upward, sending waves of heat through her body. Quickly, she turned back to Brightman. "I mean, I don't think so. I might have hit the headboard in my sleep, but that wouldn't cause this, would it?"

The other woman had agreed it probably couldn't and had continued her exam. Jack had stayed in the background, eyes always fixed on Faith and every movement she made.

So now she sat, waiting. Jumping off the bed, she prowled around the room. What was taking so long? This was supposed to be some kind of high speed military hospital. Couldn't they work faster?

The sound of footsteps caught her attention and she froze, listening intently. They stopped outside the door, but it didn't open. Muffled words floated toward her, one softer, lighter – probably Brightman, she guessed – one deeper and very familiar. Jack. She strained her ears, using every bit of Slayer sense she possessed and suddenly it snapped into focus.

"You're saying it's really Faith."

"Yes, sir. Every scan matches. Brain waves, blood type, fingerprints, even the initial DNA test is a perfect match."

"So what happened? Why is she missing three years of her life?"

"I have no idea, General. There's nothing wrong with her. As always, your wife is in perfect health."

A long pause had Faith taking a step toward the door. Had they walked away? And why did they have her DNA? Had she given it to them? All good questions to add to her growing list.

"What about, you know, low key type stuff?"

What the hell did that mean? What was a low key? And what kind of stuff did it have?

"The only way to test for cloning is the DNA. Unlike the tiny discrepancy yours showed, hers is perfect. Even after the full results are in I don't think anything will show up."

Cloning? She had to have heard that one wrong. Faith could hear his sigh through the door and halfway across a room.

"So basically we're screwed."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. At least he was able to keep a sense of humor about everything.

"I'm sorry, sir. Maybe it'll correct itself."

"And how often has that happened over the years?" Without waiting for a response, Jack pushed the door open and met Faith's startled eyes.

Thinking quickly, she dialed back on the Slayer hearing. "What's the verdict?"

"There is none," Brightman announced, setting the folder she carried on the bed. "You're as healthy as the last time you were here."

"You're telling me you did all those tests and we have squat?" A snort of laughter from Jack surprised a smile from Faith, but it faded almost immediately. "There has got to be something. People don't just go to bed one night and wake up three years later." Except she didn't even remember going to sleep after walking away from Buffy and the racgang demon carcass. As much as she was hoping for a medical reason to appear, she was starting to believe the answer had to be a mystical one. And there was no way she was going to share that theory with Jack. He had given no sign he knew about her as the Slayer. His concern he might have hurt her that morning seemed to confirm his lack of knowledge.

Why had she never told him? How had she kept it hidden? Wouldn't a husband notice mysterious bruises and cuts? A quiet voice spoke up from the back of her mind. There wouldn't be any cuts or bruises if she'd stopped patrolling, stopped hunting vampires and demons. Is that what she had done? Turned her back on her calling? She'd grown tired of the killing, yes, but to just give up permanently? Had she really done that?

"Not usually, no." Brightman's voice yanked her out of her thoughts. "But medically there is nothing wrong with you. I'm sorry." The doctor picked up the folder and turned to look at Jack. "General, I'll call you when the final results are in."

Jack nodded, hands shoved into his pockets. "Thanks, Dr. Brightman. I'll have my cell on me all day."

"Faith, it was good to see you again."

Cocking her head to one side, she raised an eyebrow. "Wish I could say the same." Brightman smiled, either at the words themselves or the flat tone, and walked out the door. Turning back to Jack, Faith shrugged. "What do we do now?"

"Go home?"

It was a tentative question. The hint of wariness that had been in his eyes since she'd first opened her mouth that morning was gone. In its place was a skittishness she had a feeling he'd deny with his last breath. "Sure. I got nowhere else to be." She returned his smile, a tiny shiver of reaction pulsing through her.

The walk through the hospital was filled with a companionable silence. Faith was surprised she didn't feel the need to cram the space with chatter. She'd never been one for quiet before. But something about Jack relaxed her, made her feel like it was okay to be herself. And herself had a few questions he just might answer now that Brightman had cleared her of being a whatever it was he'd been afraid of this morning. Might as well start with a big one. "So. General, huh?"

"Yeah," he muttered, steps speeding up slightly. "Someone's got a bad sense of humor."

Was the big, bad military man actually embarrassed? Matching him stride for stride, Faith looked over to see the tips of his ears turn a bright red. He was. Definitely something to remember for later. "And this someone with the bad sense of humor has you running deep space radio whatever?"

"Deep space radar telemetry," he corrected, shooting her a quelling look she wasn't sure he really meant. "And I still can't talk about it."

"Can't? Or won't?"

"Both." He stopped beside the large truck, keys dangling from one hand. "But mostly can't. I never have been able to understand exactly how we do what we do."

Laughing at the unrepentant look on his face, she rested her hands on her hips. Their banter was as familiar as her reflection and came without thought. "And they put you in charge?"

"Ha ha. I oversee the personnel, not the experiments. I don't have to know how to explain anything." With a self-satisfied smirk, he clicked the button on the remote to unlock the doors.

Still smiling uncontrollably, she reached for the door handle only to find Jack's hand already there. Before she realized it, he'd helped her up into the tall cab with a hand at the small of her back. Faith met his eyes, startled. No one had ever opened a door for her, let alone helped her into a vehicle. Yet the gesture had been automatic for him, of that she had no doubt. "Thanks," she said quietly, forestalling the apology she could see brewing on his face.

With a small smile, he closed the door and started around the hood to the driver's side. Her throat burned just the tiniest bit as she watched his lanky form round the bumper. She swallowed the sensation down impatiently. Jack's gentlemanly inclinations didn't have any bearing at the moment. She had to find out how she'd gotten into the future, who had done it and how she was going to get back to her time. Those were her priorities.

But her determination wavered when he was buckled in next to her with the keys in the ignition. If he'd just started the damn thing and driven them back to the house she wouldn't have faltered, she was sure of it. Reaching over with one hand, he snagged hers, pulling it to his mouth and settling a gentle kiss on the knuckles. Only nerves steeled by years as the Slayer kept her from yanking her hand away in shock, though his action was as far from an attack as she could imagine.

This time he got the words out. "Sorry. Habit." Refusing to meet her eyes, he dropped her hand and turned the ignition with a sharp snapping motion.

The truck roared to life, ending the sudden uncomfortable silence. Faith couldn't take her eyes off him. His jaw was tight, the tendons prominently displayed as if he was clenching his teeth together. Her hand, where his lips had touched her skin, burned white hot. Damn it, she had her priorities. Why did Jack have to keep doing all those tiny husbandly-like things, throwing her off balance? And why did she have to like those tiny husbandly-like things? Why did she have to like him?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she tossed her priorities out the proverbial window and grabbed his arm to keep him from putting the truck in gear. "Jack." She waited for him to look over at her. "Just act like you normally would, like you did yesterday and the day before. You know, before I went all Rip Van Winkle. And your habits? They're okay. Really."

He didn't believe her. "I touch you a lot, Faith. If you're going to freeze up every time I'd rather not."

Ouch. Okay, that's what hurt Jack sounded like. "You heard Brightman. There's nothing wrong with me. This may be a lasting thing and if it is I'd rather make the best of it. We're married. We touch. I'll get used to it." As soon as the words escaped she winced. "That didn't come out right."

Surprisingly, a ghost of a smile relaxed his face. "Actually, it did."

"So we're good?" She didn't see how he equated her foot in her mouth with something resembling coherent, but she wasn't going to argue with success. "You pretend nothing's wrong and I'll let you know if I'm not comfortable?"

"Yeah, we're good." He squeezed her hand, still on his arm, and the smile widened. "Now can we go home?"

Waving toward the windshield, she leaned back into the seat. "Drive away." Faith studied him as he maneuvered through the parking lot and out onto the street, not bothering to pay attention to the turns he took. He handled the big vehicle with an easy confidence she was starting to associate with Jack in general. She didn't think much shook him, although that morning's surprise had done a pretty good job of it.

"Crap."

Tensing at the quiet curse, she automatically opened her senses, eyes scanning the road around them for any threat. "What? What crap?" When she saw nothing but normal Saturday type traffic, she turned back to catch his sideways glance.

"The team's supposed to come over tonight."

She was sure if anyone else who knew Jack was sitting in her place right then they would have understood what he was talking about. "The team?"

"My team," he clarified. "Okay, they're not really my team anymore, but they are. You know?"

Not bothering to conceal her smile, she nodded, body relaxing fully. There was no threat, at least not a physical one. "As much as that didn't make sense, I got it." And she did. While the Scoobies always had been and always would be B's 'team', Faith had liked to pretend they were hers as well. "Why is it supposed to come over instead of is coming over?"

"You sure? They can be a handful under normal circumstances."

"If you're talking ten you're on your own. Three or four I'm pretty sure I can handle." Yep, that was definitely laughter in his eyes.

"I'll remind you of that statement later tonight."

Despite the teasing words, Faith could see he was pleased with her willingness to make an effort. She settled against the seat again, arms crossing over her chest. "So give me the four-one-one already. The least you can do is give me some advance warning."

He pulled up at a stop sign before searching her face intently. He must have found what he was looking for since he nodded, signaled and cruised around the corner. "Okay, pay attention. There'll be a quiz later. Carter is the one who can explain how we do what we do, but don't bother asking unless. . ."

TBC