Twenty-two
vacate is the word...vengeance has no place on me or her
cannot find the comfort in this world
artificial tear...vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers
vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere...
a truant finds home...and a wish to hold on...
but there's a trapdoor in the sun...immortality...
as privileged as a whore...victims in demand for public show
swept out through the cracks beneath the door
holier than thou, how?
surrendered...executed anyhow
scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor...
a truant finds home...and a wish to hold on too...
he saw the trapdoor in the sun...
immortality...
i cannot stop the thought...i'm running in the dark...
coming up a which way sign...all good truants must decide...
oh, stripped and sold, mom...auctioned forearm...
and whiskers in the sink...
truants move on...cannot stay long
some die just to live...
ohh...
Will stalked into the emergency room at the Allen Hospital, furiously angry. The EMTs hadn’t let him ride with the ambulance, making him follow behind. And since he didn’t have his own vehicle, he’d wasted precious time commandeering a ride from one of the guys from the Anti-Crime Squad. Now his instincts were really screaming at him and every moment wasted put Buffy in even more danger.
He didn’t know where she was, but the credentials hanging from a chain around his neck gave him entry without any further hassles. The nurses at the admitting booth waved him through and one, a young male, with curly dark hair and of mixed heritage pointed him to where the other officers were gathered.
Peeking past the curtain, Will fully expected to be greeted by Buffy’s tired features. Instead he was faced with Alanna, Gunn’s sister, who smiled tiredly. “Hey, Will.”
“Alanna?” Will stepped around the curtain. “What’re you doing here?”
She lifted her arm. Blood covered the sleeve of her shirt, which the nurse was in the process of cutting away. ‘Got clipped by the bad guys.”
Concern flooded him. “Your brother know?”
“Nope. And I’m not gonna tell him.” She grinned. “I’m gonna let you do that.”
He shuddered theatrically. “Great. Now I’m really a dead man.” He paused, looking around. “You the only one?”
Alanna didn’t hide the grimace as the nurse started washing her arm. “No. Girl’s in one of these rooms.” She looked down at the wound. “Hey, that hurts.”
“If you’d hold still, it won’t hurt as much.” The nurse patted her arm. “It won’t be long before the morphine kicks in and you won’t feel anything.”
“Morphine?” Alanna questioned the nurse.
“Doctor’s got to get the bullet out. You’re lucky, because it missed everything, but it’s still going to be painful. You should be up and around in a week or so.”
“A week? No, that’s not good.” She was shaking her head, and Will backed out of the room to give them a bit of privacy, and to find Buffy.
He stopped at the group of officers, not waiting for a break in their hushed conversation to interrupt. “Where’s the witness?”
“She’s in x-ray.” A cop with a sergeant’s bars answered, pointing with his hand to the left. “They just took her in. They think her ankle’s busted.”
“Thanks.” Will headed in that direction, shaking his head. He didn’t care enough to berate the uniforms for not guarding her closely, since he doubted anything would budge them from where they were. Not considering one of their own had been shot. Granted, she wasn’t in any danger – barring any infection – but still, the NYPD tended to look after their own.
Will leaned against the wall, head lowered, but eyes watching the hallways. His brain was on over load – and he was almost regretting his earlier phone call to Rupert, but there was nothing to do about it now. He’d called and the old man had actually sounded relieved and happy to hear from him, which was a switch from his usual exasperation. Will knew they sometimes clashed, but Giles was a good man, and despite their sometimes different approaches, they were very much alike. Both chafed at the restrictions placed on them by their chosen professions, though they realized the restrictions were necessary.
It wasn’t long before the technician was wheeling Buffy through the door and she looked so small and forlorn, that Will had to force himself to maintain a professional distance. As it was, the technician is the one who noticed him first and he stopped, pausing at the scowl on Will’s face.
“Detective?”
“S’all right.” Will motioned them forward, not daring to meet Buffy’s eyes, but his hand brushed over her arm as the technician wheeled her forward and a brief smile lit her tired features.
Together, he and the tech got her settled back on the gurney, and Will waited patiently while the nurse repositioned an IV line and checked her vitals again. “When’s the doc due in?”
“We called the orthopedic resident. As soon as the x-rays are ready she’ll be in to talk to you.” The nurse didn’t bother to address Buffy, directing her comments at Will instead. “It shouldn’t be too long.”
“Thanks.” He watched her go, trying to think of a way to stay with Buffy – as long as it was going to take to put away the remnants of Reilly’s organization. Will didn’t turn until Buffy had called his name, and from the tone in her voice, she’d been trying for a while.
“Will? What’s going to happen now?” She was picking at the light blanket covering her, watching him from beneath her lashes.
“Dunno, kitten. ‘Spect my bosses are gonna want my take on all this, plus whatever you can remember.” He shrugged. “After that? ‘M not entirely sure. Could be they’ll call your mum.”
“What?” She looked up at him. “No. No. I don’t want anyone calling my mother. I won’t go back there. I’ll leave again. I swear.” Buffy could barely hold her head up, everything was so achy, but she wasn’t ever going back to her mother’s house. Not as long as Ted was still there. “You can’t make me go.”
A short bitter bark of laughter emerged from him. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. They can make you do whatever they want. If the Powers that be send you home, home’s where you’re going.”
He didn’t want to disillusion the girl, but if Social Services felt she was safest back home, then that’s where she’d end up.
“Why can’t I stay with you?” She was pouting, something he suddenly couldn’t tear his gaze from.
“Ah. . .” Stop looking at me with those big eyes, pet. I can’t handle it. . . “Well, for one thing, I’m not married.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Her eyes were a mossy green, and he found himself staring into them.
“The only way they’d let me take you, kitten, is in a parental capacity. An’ . . .” He couldn’t finish the thought. Daren’t finish the thought. As it was, he shouldn’t have even been thinking the thoughts. She was barely sixteen. And he was far, far too old for her.
That effectively sucked the wind from her sails. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” He was picking at his nails, refusing to look at her.
The enclosed area was quiet for long minutes, and Buffy fought tears – angry, pain filled – tears that she didn’t want to let slip. But she couldn’t fight them, along with the pain and fatigue pulling at her and finally she just gave up. Her hands came up to cover her face and Buffy hiccuped once, suppressing the sobs. She didn’t give in until his hand brushed her hair back and dropped lightly on her shoulder. “It’s alright, kitten, go ahead.”
“I’m scared.” She sniffled. “And tired. And everything hurts.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He pushed her back gently. “Put your head down an’ close your eyes. I’ll be right here.”
“You promise?”
Oh sweetheart. . . don’t . . . “Yeah. Already promised you I wouldn’t leave you.”
“Columbia Presbyterian.”
“Which one?”
“Allen Hospital.”
“Fuck. Uptown.”
There was a pause on both ends, then the second voice asked, “How many?”
“Right now? Six. Including Pratt.”
A second pause while the information was digested. “Do it.”
“Done.”
Buffy was just drifting off to sleep when loud voices penetrated over the soft hum of constant machinery and beeps of monitors. At first Will didn’t register the noises, because he was sitting next to Buffy, watching her, her hand tucked in his, and his mind was miles away. She looked so small and young, her hair a dark brown against the pale sheets and her bruised skin. Poor chit’s been through so much. . . how can we put her through any more? Can’t see it doing her any good ‘t all.
Damn Angelus. Damn him to all the hells for getting her – for picking her out of all the hookers he could’ve picked up that night. Why was it Buffy? Why her?
Was it because she looked like his wife? Was that the reason? Or was it something darker, something nastier? Because she barely looked old enough to have a babysitting job, much less be out walking the streets. Will tilted his head, checking to make sure her eyes were closed. Good. She’s sleeping.
Gently extracting his hand from hers, Will moved his chair back. Wouldn’t do to be caught holdin’ hands with the chit. Not good form, William. He snickered, hearing the last bit in Rupert’s clipped, precise tones. Not good form at all, old man.
So lost in his own head, Will paid no attention to the noises beyond the quiet curtained area he and Buffy were behind. It wasn’t until the noises intruded on his thoughts did he think to check out what was happening. He quietly slid between the curtain, eyes scanning left and right. Spike stopped short, his breath deep and hastily indrawn. Holy fucking hell. . .
He knew she did know him, couldn’t know him. But there was no mistaking the look of concentrated anger in her dark eyes.
Cordelia Reilly Chase Harris was one pissed off lady.
And yet that wasn’t what had him drawing his weapon.
The person stalking behind Cordelia Harris had him palming his weapon, preparing to aim and fire without warning. His partner – Faith Lehane – was right behind her, eyes scanning the emergency room restlessly. If. . . Will couldn’t think. All leads, all his intuition had led to this moment, and he wasn’t entirely surprised.
Faith raised her head, catching his eye and she blinked, once, and then slowly, imperceptibly shook her head.
“You know, I pay you better than this. The information you gave me said my husband – ex-husband – was here. Why the hell would you bring me here if he wasn’t?” Cordelia rounded on Faith, her tone acerbic and rushed. “I don’t even know why I care. Except that perhaps it was the same bitch that murdered my brother.”
Without waiting for a response, she continued her diatribe. “So far, Faith, you haven’t proven to be much of a bodyguard. And why the hell those idiots think I need a bodyguard is beyond me. I’m not involved with my brother’s business. Never have been.”
Will watched, his heart thundering in his ears, as Faith drew Cordelia further away from where he and Buffy were. He’d thought. . . He couldn’t believe Lehane was in this deep, and nor could he believe she’d just saved his ass. Feeling like he dodged a bullet, he exhaled deeply and watched them round the corner into another corridor.
The tension between his shoulders relaxed, but only minutely. That itch between his shoulders and on the nape of his neck was still throbbing and even the near miss with Cordelia Harris hadn’t eased it. He was missing something. . . something vital. It was clear now, that whoever was supplying the information to Reilly’s organization was well placed. Very well placed. And despite Faith’s apparent diffusion just know, Will wasn’t prepared to rule her out. But labeling Faith as the double was too easy. Almost as if. . .
He was being played. The sudden realization made him grit his teeth. Someone was deliberately placing Faith in front of him as the mole. But who?
See, that wasn't so long, was it? C'mon guys, show me just a little bit of love, please? I've got the next chapter just about ready to go, and the next after that. Should be posting again sometime next week, if everything goes according to plan. Blessed Samhain, (Happy Halloween) Much love and thanks for the reviews you've all left me so far.