Fic : Untitled Faith thing (6/?) (FR13)
So here's the next bit. A few answers here. More questions too.
All parts are found here.
The previous part is here.
***
"Well," says the tech, checking his tablet computer before looking back up at her, "Everything seems to be in order."
"Aside from a couple of third degree burns and a bullet hole here or there," Faith comments dryly.
"Ahem. Yes. Aside from those things."
"When can I lose the extra wiring?" She jerks her head up at the IV drip and the bag of O-neg on the stand beside her bed.
"In a few hours at least," he says. "You lost a lot of blood before we had you stablized. Insisting on us treating the others before you didn't help matters."
She shrugs, wincing slightly when the movement jars the stitches.
"Give him a break, Faith. You nearly didn't make it." Across the way, Harris is enjoying a bowl full of ice cream. You'd think he just had his tonsils out rather than been treated for severe concussion, burns and whatever else. Nothing life-threatening, though. The old Harris luck still seems to be holding on that score.
The tech looks pleased that at least one person in the room realizes the seriousness of the situation. "It's true. If your allergies to the drugs we used in the surgery hadn't been on record, we might not have been able to reverse the situation as quickly as we did."
She doesn't quite roll her eyes at him. It's not like she doesn't know how close she came to buying the farm this time. It's not that she doesn't appreciate the save. It's just hard to see it as anything more than a hard day at the office. Maybe that means she's sick in the head, she's not entirely sure, but that's just how it is. Granted, the bullets? Those were new. The burns not so much. And as for the allergies, she's had to put up with those since a certain ill-fated treatment in Sunnydale ER sent her to the coma ward for the following seven months.
She tries to look like she's pathetically grateful to still be in the land of the breathing but it's more effort than she's really capable of delivering at the moment. No one is buying it anyway. "I'm kind of surprised you still had my file to begin with. I mean, after what happened... Last year, the old place, the infirmary got hit pretty bad. I heard Andrew raving about data loss and hard copies going up in smoke."
The tech positively bristles with indignation, clutching his touchscreen doohickey to his chest like it's a wounded bird in need of special care and attention. "Maybe some services might have experienced such problems, but we take things altogther more seriously here, I can assure you." He sniffs. "All of our files have multiple back ups in many different secure off site locations. Miss Rosenberg was kind enough to provide both technical and magical safeguards above and beyond those affected to the more mundane data networks."
"Huh."
"I'll leave you both to get some rest." The tech nods at Xander and shoots her a look before heading out, leaving the two of them alone as the last of the team still in recovery.
"Go Red, I guess," she comments to no one in particular.
"She sure saved our butts today," Harris agrees.
Faith blinks. "Yeah, about that... What the heck were you doing out there today, anyway?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Harris. Giles was saying something about Hong Kong or wherever-"
"Singapore."
"Yeah. There. How'd you wind up romancing the stone with the rest of us?"
Harris looks annoyed. "I don't know."
"Say what now?"
"I don't know. Really. The guy in Singapore was a bust, just a middle man who'd already sold the scroll I was supposed to retrieve on to some local bigwig in Thailand of all places."
"So?"
"So... Look, I've got this friend. Well, contact. More of a pen pal, I guess. Someone I helped out of some trouble with a gang of gunrunners a few years back..."
Faith frowns, not seeing how this is leading anywhere relevant. "O-kay?"
"He's... He kind of lives in Burma. Not far from the border into Thailand. I went to his compound to-"
"Compound?"
"What?"
"You said compound."
He shifts uncomfortably in place. "And?"
"A compound. As in just another word for a modern-day fortress. What does this contact of yours do exactly?"
"He's a trader."
"A trader in Burma." She looks at him. "Near the Thai border. Who plays with gunrunners and has a compound."
"Yes, Faith, what's your point?"
"He the one who gave you the dynamite?"
"As a matter of fact-"
"He just happened to have that shit lying around, did he?"
"Look, can we please get back to my story?"
"You're pen pals with an arms dealer. Does Willow know?"
"No." He glares. "And no one is going to tell her."
Faith raises her hands in silent surrender, or tries to anyway. The bad arm hurts too bad.
"As I was saying," he continues, "the guy who bought the scroll was a bigwig in Thailand. Big in several, uh, international trading consortiums. Drugs, slaves, money and guns. My contact knew him, had a beef with the guy. He gave me all the info I needed and the dynamite and gasoline to help me cause some mayhem when I got there. I was all set to head out and cause a ruckus but then, next thing I know, before I'd even got two miles down the road, bam! Suddenly there's Faith 'Tomb Raider' Lehane right in front of me, facing off against the armies of darkness."
"Screw you, Harris. There's no way."
"I swear. Point A to point B, instant connection. You sure you didn't do anything? Summon anything? Make a wish?"
"Wish for you? In your dreams."
"Well, I've got nothing. No clue how it happened."
Someone clearing their throat by the door gets them both to turn around. "M-maybe I do," says Willow.
***
<< (06) >>
NB: Aaand, there you go. Short and to the point. Or maybe not. There's stuff in here that will quickly bcome crucial to the story, and it's probably not what you think :)
The formatting on this is all over the place, I know. My computer is still playing up and this is un-beta'd. I'll try and fix things later. TTFN!