Fic : Untitled Faith thing (1/?) (FR13)
Couple of things to note. Firstly, this story is something I pick away at during my lunch break and various free moments at the office. This means small chunks and variable output. Secondly, it's a Faith fic. In my fics, there tend to be pairings. If I 'ship any girl in the B-verse, it's with Xander. This is because Giles is the father figure and incest is squicky, Angel and Spike are clearly perfect for each other already (they can share hair care products!) and Robin has all the personality of a stunned trout. So there are going to be some Faith/Xander moments in here. Sorry. Thirdly (yes, I know I said a couple of things, shut up), there's going to be an OC. A fairly major role in the story. Again, sorry if that doesn't do it for you. At least I'm having fun :)
Right, with all of that said, on with the fic...
Title: ???
Author: nemo_gravis
Rating: FR13
Disclaimer: BTVS and all related characters are owned by Joss Whedon and others. I'm just playing in their sandbox, no harm intended, no profit made.
Summary: Faith discovers something unexpected about herself.
***
Hospitals suck. Even private ones. Faith hates them with a fiery passion. She's hardly the only one at the NWC, of course. Buffy won't go near the places anymore. Giles has had so many concussions by now, the ER gives him the frequent flyer discount. And Robin… Most people have a problem with hospitals. Nothing weird about that. No reason to get jumpy.
Faith's sitting in one of the second floor waiting rooms, thumbing through old magazines and desperate for a smoke but the old harridan at the reception desk down the hall keeps glaring at her through the open door and it's freeze-your-ass-off cold outside so no joy there. She's just got to bear with until the damn doc finishes reviewing her file and gives her the all clear.
Time was, you only had to deal with doctors after things went pear-shaped. After getting bitten, gouged, gored, stabbed or poisoned. The usual day at the office for a slayer. Nowadays, though, things are different. Now there's a dental plan and a 401K. Now there's a company newsletter edited by that moron Andrew. Now there's health insurance. And so now, according to Monica and the other girls in Admin, she has to get the doc's OK and all the right forms signed, sealed and approved before she can get back out in the field again. And Faith is itching to get back into the field. So she waits, and she reads stupid articles about 'how to please your man' from fifteen years ago and she tries not to twitch or jiggle her leg impatiently.
"Miss Lehane?" a voice asks. A man in a white coat is standing in the doorway, clasping a clipboard. Hallelujah.
"Yeah."
"If you'll come with me."
She nods briefly, tosses the magazine back on the table and moves to follow. He leads her down the hall, past the old battle-ax at reception and around the corner, to an office with a huge fish tank and a bunch of folders piled up on the desk.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," he says, rounding the desk and taking a seat.
"No problem," she lies. "It's not like I had anything better to do." He gestures to one of the chairs in front of him and she moves to sit.
If he noticed her sarcastic tone of voice, he doesn't acknowledge it. "I realize this process has been a bit of a logistical nightmare for your organization. But it's not everyday Holbrooke and Lowe are asked to underwrite a policy as large as the one for the NWC. I'm sure you can appreciate their need to make sure all the I's are dotted and the T's crossed."
"Seemed like everything was working fine 'till now."
Doc still doesn't blink. "Yes, well, from what I am given to understand, it's all part of the on-going review of company assets. Basic procedure after a recent corporate merger." He flips open one of the files in front of him, frowns, plucks another from the pile and checks that. "Ah, yes." He checks the computer screen and enters something quickly. "So, let's see… Lehane, first name Faith… Age 28… Residing here in London…"
In the aquarium, one of the fish is busy chasing the others. It's one of those Japanese fighting fish, or looks like it anyhow. The kind that kill everything in the tank with them. The other fish are giving it a wide berth.
The doctor looks back at her file and then back at Faith. An attempt at a smile scuttles across his face and dies before it can reach his eyes. "Well, everything seems to be in order. All of the tests came back fine. You appear to be in excellent physical condition."
To his credit, he doesn't emphasize physical, but she knows her psych eval has to be in her file too. Having given the shrink as much honesty as she thinks his tiny brain could handle, she's reasonably sure it makes for some interesting reading material.
"Although, I see here you've had three major surgeries in as many years?"
"If you say so."
"Oh, come now! Pneumothorax after a perforated lung-"
"Car crash. Never got the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road."
"Your left leg had to be practically rebuilt last spring."
"Pilates are a bitch."
He blinks. "And the torn throat following some kind of vicious animal attack?"
"Company picnic. Shit got crazy."
He stares at her for a second. "Those are some hefty procedures, Miss Lehane." She resists the urge to shift uncomfortably in her seat. The doc shakes his head. "Anyone else would be lucky just to be alive today. Based on some of these records, it's amazing you can even walk, let alone run. Which you can, of course. A mile in, oh! Under three minutes, I see."
Faith bites her lip. She'd tried to slow herself down as much as possible.
"I would say this was unheard of were it not for the fact that other members of your organization seem to have gone through similar experiences with much the same outcome."
"How did B do?"
"Excuse me?"
"Buffy. Summers. Big boss lady. How fast did she do the mile?"
"Oh. Um. I'm not at liberty to discuss other people's results with you, I'm sure you understand."
"Right. Just with the suits who sign the checks."
He coughed. "Be that as it may, I see nothing here to disqualify you from coverage."
Faith heaves a sigh of relief. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until then.
The doctor rummages in one of his desk drawers and pulls out a pen. "Not that it has any real bearing," he remarks as he starts to scribble, "but I did notice your medical records only go back eight years."
Faith shrugs. "The town I was living in back in California… There was an earthquake and the place basically fell apart. Everything down the sinkhole."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It was big news for a while. I guess my records are still somewhere in the files at Sunnydale General but that's kind of at the bottom of a lake now."
"Huh. Well, it's probably for the best."
It's Faith's turn to blink. "Excuse me?"
"Any facility that fails to deliver even the most basic standards of care is better off closed, in my opinion."
"How do you…? What do you mean?"
"The scarring, of course."
"Scarring."
"Yes." He's not getting the reaction he's expecting. "On your lower abdomen?"
Her hand drops to the knife wound. She's been hurt a hundred times, both before and after Buffy stuck a blade in her gut, but that's the only one that left a scar. Just one of those quirks of slayer healing.
"Oh. Yeah." Faith coughs. "What about it?"
"It's the principle of the thing, I suppose." He goes back to his scribbling. "On their worst day, one of our first year obstetrics interns could have done a better job."
The words are coming out, they're forming sentences and everything but she's just not getting the memo. "A better job…?" Wait a minute. "Obstetrics?"
"I've seen better C-section scars in third world countries."
… "WHAT?!"
***
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Note: Yeah, I'm a little rusty. Hope the strings aren't too visible. I haven't done much in the way of research for this beyond a cursory check to see if the scars could plausibly be similar. If in reality they couldn't then just consider this an AU where Buffy stabbed Faith in a different place, 'kay? Thanks.
S'all for now. Next bit soon. Thursday? We'll see.