author: Lucinda

rating: Y-14 for violence

eighth in the 'My Daughter' series

main characters: Faith, Angel, representatives of the Watcher's Council.

disclaimer: Angel and Faith are the creation of Joss Whedon for the series BtVS and/or Angel the Series. Tom and Caine are the creations of Marvel comics.

distribution: with the rest of the My Daughter series.

notes: AU after Faith turned herself in during S1 Angel/S4 BtVS.

Faith thought about the recent twist in her life as she stared at a small crack in one of the blocks of the wall. There weren't too many choices of what to stare at while in a prison cell, it was either a concrete block, the concrete floor, the plate of polished steel that served as a mirror, or the off-white ceiling tiles. She wasn't paying attention to the wall anyhow, she was thinking about her father.

Tom Cassidy. He was many things; a wanted criminal, Irish, and a mutant. She hadn't really expected her father to be anyone like him. She'd always known in a vague sort of way that her dad was Irish, that her mom had split from him because of some differences. To be honest, her mom had sworn that he was a criminal, a hard-drinking, lying thug who always took the path of least resistance. Of course, she'd assumed that her mom might have been a bit bitter, or biased.

Not that she'd turned out much better. Faith didn't really drink, but she'd killed. Stolen. Tortured for information. Hardly an exemplary life. Her mom had split to 'spare her her father's criminal ways', but she really doubted that this was what her mom would have wanted.

"Faith, you've got a visitor." The guard looked bored, swinging the metal bar absently. "You might want to check your hair, it's a suit."

"A suit?" Faith pushed herself of the bunk, and glanced in the mirror, smoothing her hair. "I don't know any suits, who could it be?"

"I wasn't told who or why," the guard commented. "I'm just glad that you're not one of the trouble-makers."

"Fine, I guess I'm ready to see the suit," Faith muttered, frowning at her set of prison clothing. She really didn't think that she'd make a good impression dressed like a felon, even if that's what she was.

She followed the guard down the blandly gray hall, into an elevator that went down to the ground floor, and down another hall before they entered the small area for supervised visitation. Faith sighed as she moved towards the chair by the specially treated glass. She didn't know what they did to it, but it was nearly unbreakable, certainly bullet-proof. On the other side was a middle-aged man in a bland brown suit, with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a brown leather briefcase. He was nobody that she recognized. She sighed, knowing now that either he was a middling lawyer hoping to use her for a point, a reporter looking for a juicy story, or a Watcher.

"Faith Wilkins? I'd like to ask you a few questions." The man's voice held a faint accent, and his eyes were full of disapproval.

She dropped into the chair, and gave him a predator's baring of teeth. "I'm Faith, who are you?"

"My name is Samuel Dobson, I represent the Council." He paused, glancing at the guards and pointedly not saying what Council he meant. In his mind, there was probably only one that really mattered anyhow. "I have been sent to ask you a few questions about your assault on the Headquarters."

"Excuse me?" Faith blinked, glaring at the man in confused anger. "My what? I've been right here in the nice concrete cell, and I haven't assaulted anything worse than a cockroach ever since I got here. Start with explaining what this assault is, and move to why you're talking to me about it."

"Your assault on the Headquarters in London. Last week? Does this sound familiar yet?" The man's sarcasm was thick, and he was giving her the look that said he viewed her only as a flawed weapon.

Faith leaned back in her chair, and shook her head. "I've been here for months now. They haven't even let me out to visit a doctor, let alone leave the country. I guess you'd best look elsewhere for the responsible party, because it's not me."

"But Mr. Travers was attacked in his own office!" Dobsen looked affronted.

"Look, while I know that my record's not squeaky clean and shiny, that's something I didn't do. I would have taken great pleasure in paying him a visit, and there would have been a few words, but I haven't left the prison." Faith glared at him, and then smiled before adding, "I didn't do it. Go away."

"But... but..." Dobsen sputtered, glaring at Faith and then turning to glare at the guard. "She must have done it! Or called someone. Who else would have bothered?"

"Have you met Travers?" Faith asked, trying to look innocent. "I can't be the only person he's annoyed. Unless something's happened to B, she was even less happy with him than me."

"Miss Wilkins has been here for six months. She has not been permitted to make any unsupervised phone calls, and has made no calls. Her visits have all been supervised, and have not included any planning of assaults." The guard was frowning now as well, and glaring at Mr. Dobsen.

Dobsen stood up, and grabbed his briefcase with a weak scowl. He turned and stomped away, his shoes squeaking slightly on the floor.

"He was a representative of the Council?" Her guard asked, still frowning. "The same Council who produced most of the evidence against you?"

"Uh-huh." Faith replied, not bothering to admit that she had actually killed those people. "They don't like me very much."

"Hmmm..." Shaking her head, the guard sighed. "I suppose now that that's done with, we might as well take you back to your cell."

Faith nodded, and decided not to ask any of the questions that she now had bubbling in her mind. She was really curious about this assault on Travers, though she suspected that her dad might have had something to do with it. She also had the feeling that the guard might be planning something.

That evening, a few phone calls were made to lawyers. Requests were made to carefully review all the evidence that had been gathered against Faith. A few murmured comments about that day's visitor elicited a promise that every piece of evidence would be inspected to ensure that it hadn't been planted by a group of outsiders.

None of the people talking about Faith's legal situation could figure out why a British historical society would be so concerned with the fate of one American girl, especially one who wasn't known for being anywhere near museums. They did agree that it seemed a bit unusual, possibly even suspicious.

One lawyer, a Ms. Lilah Morgan, even mentioned that if there wasn't sufficient untainted evidence, Faith Wilkins might even be granted a release, possibly even a delayed judgment of 'not guilty due to insufficient evidence.'

The wheels were turning. Nobody asked what had greased them.

End My Daughter's Innocence.