AUTHORS: dru as Faith & Evil Willow as Xander (Go worship the goddess that is EW!)
SERIES: Mile High Club
PAIRING : Faith/Xander
RATING : NC17 (highly smutty
with plenty of salty goodness!)
DISCLAIMER : We do not own these
characters. We just like putting them in lewd positions!
NOTE: dru and EvilWillow started
this, but dru finished it! Please, enjoy!
=====================================================================
PART
ONE
COULD
IT BE ANY HARDER TO GET A FUCKIN' CAB IN THIS CITY??
I
mean, JESUS! I haven't been back in four fucking months and god dammit I wanna
get back to my place!
"IS
THAT SO HARD TO ASK?!" I scream into the empty road. Then I glance at my
watch. It *is* pretty late, 3:30 am. But this is freakin' Chicago! Not to
mention the fact that I'm freezing my ass off!
I
finally see one coming and I walk out onto the road. It screeches to a halt and
I run around. "Thanks. 550 West please." And I sit as I open my bag
up, not like I expect there to *be* anything.
Anything
except cash.
Lots
of cash.
Cash
is good.
I
grab a twenty and throw it at the driver. "Keep the change," I mumble
and look up at the building. I remember why I didn't really *want* to come
home. Not like it's much of a home for...
I
take a deep breath of the cool Chicago air and go up to my place. I throw the
door open and promptly secure the five locks. Can't be too careful, even if you
*are* a slayer.
I
take my cell phone out of the bag. I have messages.
At least I know who they *won't* be from anymore. I
haven't checked in... so long. A month. He stopped calling a month ago. I
wonder where he is tonight...
I
think I'm drunk.
No, on
second thought, I'm okay. I look up at the bartender. "I beer another
want." What's that look for? I got all the words right, didn't I? Pretty
sure I did. Ow. Thinking too hard hurts the brain.
"Hon,
I'm cutting you off," she says with a pity-smile. I hate pity smiles. They
make me feel like puking.
Or
maybe that's from the two glasses of vodka at bar one, two glasses of beer at
bar two and three glasses of whiskey at bar number three. And... I think that's
all. I've lost count.
"Well
yer just no fun," I frown at her and get to my feet. But I don't think
that I'm going to be able to walk out to my car. My legs seem to have gone on
strike.
"Jimmy!"
OW! Loud noises are very, very bad. The bartender... Darlene... must've read
that on my face, because there's the pity-smile again. And there's Jimmy.
Well,
shit. Jimmy's the bouncer. But what the hell did *I* do to deserve being beat
up??? Oh, he's just helping me outside. That's nice. And he even called me a
cab. That's nice, too. I like Jimmy. And I think I just said that out loud
because *he's* giving me a weird look
as he helps me in the cab.
Damn,
I'm so drunk. I just want to go home and sleep... for a few weeks. But we can't
do that when we're not moving. I look up at the driver, and he says,
"Well?"
Huh?
Oh, yeah. He's not psychic so he needs the address. Hey, there's a thought!
Cabbie's should be psychic; that would make things *so* much easier. Especially
when you can't remember your address. Shit.
Then I remember the business cards in my wallet. I throw
one at him and then decide to take a nap while he figures out how to get there.
"Hey,
Faith, it's me. Again. I was just... calling. But... I guess you don't... wanna
talk to me. So... I'll just stop... you know where to find me."
I
press end as his last message plays.
I
can't bring myself to delete them. It's not like I didn't *want* to-
But I
couldn't. It was no good.
But
now... things have changed.
I
need him. I'm just wondering if he'd toss me out.
I
guess there's only one way to find out. I'm just scared to show my face. Four
months. He left at least twenty messages and I didn't reply to one. Didn't even
answer the phone when I saw it was him calling. I guess I'm just no good at
this kind of stuff. But now it's different.
I
pull his card out. One I've practically slept with every night since... since
our trip to L.A. I tracked down his apartment the last time I was in Chicago. I
was only in and out, but I managed to take an hour and find him.
I'm out the door before I can talk myself out of it. He
really needs to know. I really need to explain to him why I never called.
"I
gotta be sick now," I warn the taxi driver. Wow, really fast reflexes. I'm
glad I had my eyes closed because I sure didn't want to see that swerve across
what felt like four lanes to the side of the road. I open the door and empty my
stomach.
Fuck.
You'd think I'd feel better now, but I don't. And I should remember that, since
I've been getting drunk, puking and ending up with a hangover from Hell every
weekend for the past four months.
But I
don't. I just keep doing it. Every weekend. Sometimes only Friday, sometimes
all three nights. And why do I keep doing this to myself?
I'll
tell you why. It's all because of a woman. And not just any woman, at least I
didn't think so at the time. No, I thought she might be *the* woman. Stupid me,
to believe in fate, destiny... happy endings.
Well,
I know better now. Those things are all lies. And I owe it to Faith, to have
taught me that.
Of course, she won't answer the phone so I *can* thank
her... but that's probably for the best.
I
have no problem picking the locks. Even though it's in a great neighbor,
spacious apartment, he really doesn't have much security.
I've
never come in. I tried knocking but no one was home. But I'm here. So I sit in
a chair in the corner of the living room and look around in the dark. I could
see myself here. With him. If he doesn't kick my ass out, which he has every
right to do. He probably thinks I whored him again when in fact *I'm* the one
that's a whore. I sold myself.
And
for what? For nothing important. I know that now.
I
just hope I can explain that to him, that he'll *let* me explain it to him. He
needs to know what I have to say. It's his right to know.
I
sure pick the wrong times to be noble.
And I'm about ready to leave and chalk my two hour wait to
'what was I thinking' when I hear the key in the door. Shit. Here goes.
Stupid
... fucking .... key. Oh. I guess if the key doesn't fit, it's the wrong one.
Okay. There's the key. Of course, if the doorknobs would stop moving around
this would go a lot smoother.
Finally!
I open the door and decide the bedroom's too far away. The couch is perfectly
comfortable. And I've lived here for years so there's no need to turn on any
lights. "DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" Ow, again, my head. And Ow, my fucking
SHIN! I kick the offending coffee table and all that's left to say is OW MY
BROKEN TOE!
It'd be funny if it happened to anyone else, I realize
this. But I'm not laughing. There's the couch. Nice couch. Now I can sleep. And
oh shit. I have to be on site tomorrow. Fine. I'll just take a bottle of
Tylenol before I go to work.
Great.
He's
drunk. He's fucking drunk! *I* need t-
No. Perhaps this is someone telling me to leave it alone.
I don't deserve to be happy anyway. And he doesn't deserve the baggage I bring.
I
stand up slowly, although he's probably unconscious by now. I quietly make my
way past the couch silently praying he's asleep. I just need to get out of
here. He doesn't deserve the trouble I bring and I don't deserve him. But...
No. I'm almost to the door when-
"Faith?" I swear I can smell her perfume.
"Great, I'm imagining things now. It's a good thing Faith dropped me,
because I am *really* proving what a loser I am."
FUCK.
I freeze.
Did
he actually see me? I don't think so. But... he's awake.
I
stay still to see if he actually sees me, for some confirmation that he'll be
asleep soon.
I thought I could do this, but I'm weak. I always have
been. I don't face my problems. I run from them.
"I'm even too much a loser to just kill myself and get
it over with. No, I have to go for very slow alcohol poisoning. Yeah, I'm a
*real* catch for the women."
"Xander,"
I say with a pained voice.
SHIT. I quick cover my mouth hoping he didn't hear me.
And
now I'm hearing her. And seeing her. Yeah, it's official, I've lost my fucking
mind. I suppose it was bound to happen, eventually. I just never thought it
would be something like this that would do it. I figured demons or magic... but
no. Not Xander the loser. No, I'm brought down by just a woman.
Not
just a woman.
Faith.
Oh well, might as well enjoy the insanity. "Hello
figment of my very drunk probably insane mind," I say with a smile.
He
thinks he's imagining me?
I
walk over to him and drop to my knees in front of the couch. I reach out and
touch his face, unable to stop myself. I've wanted to touch him for so long...
four long months.
"Hi, Xander." I reply.
God, I
wish this was real. And it feels real. But it must be a dream. Even though I
don't remember falling asleep, but... well, when I'm dreaming I don't know I'm
dreaming and OW. Too much thinking hurts the head even when I'm dreaming.
"Hey,"
I say. I reach out to tangle my fingers in her hair and it's as soft as I remember.
I
really wish...
But it
isn't. I *know* that. She's not here; she doesn't want me. And I can't do this
to myself. It hurts enough already, just being without her. But this... this is
so much worse because I'm going to wake up tomorrow and it'll all have been a
dream or a drunken illusion. And I can't handle that.
I pull my hand away and close my eyes. "Go away.
You're not real; you're not here; you're just a dream. A really nice dream but
I'm waking up *now* before I tell you... Before I wake up alone again and lose
what little sanity I have left."
I
know he's talking to his imagination, but it's *me*. And I start crying.
And
babbling.
"God, I'm so sorry." I confess. "I wanted
to call. I wanted to come over. I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you
and touch you... so bad. But I couldn't. They wouldn't let me, but I'm free
know and I want- no, I need you. God, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Xander.
Before I go, *please* forgive me." I plead through my tears.
And
now I *know* this is all a dream. Because it's really everything I wanted to
hear... at least in the past month when I realized she wasn't going to answer
my calls. I went from angry to sad to... whatever this is.
"There's nothing to forgive," I say, rolling onto
my back because it hurts to see how beautiful she is, when she's not really
there. "You did the right thing
because you deserve so much better than me. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm the
loser."
"No, you're wrong. Please, Xander. Forgive me. I need
you to forgive me." I reach out and touch his shoulder, "I'll leave
later, but let me stay. Let me sit until you're asleep, please, let me stay.
Let me see you once more, please, Xander. I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have
come. I shouldn't be here. You deserve so much more than me. Please, tell me I
can stay, just for a little while."
"I can't forgive you if because I'm not upset with
you. But stay if you want. Doesn't matter. It's hurt like hell for the past
four months and I've survived. I guess I can stand a few more hours."
"I'm
so sorry, Xander," I say before getting more comfortable and resting my
head against his chest as I close my eyes. "God, I'm so sorry."
I'll just stay a few minutes, until I know he's asleep
I
can't help myself, I run my hand through her hair again. So soft. And this
feels so right. I can *almost* make myself believe it's real. Almost.
But I
don't think I'll be able to sleep. Oh, wait. I *am* asleep. So I guess that's
not something to worry about.
I wish
I'd remembered to set the alarm on my watch before I fell asleep. Oh well.
Jeanie will probably call me. She knows by now that I need an extra wake-up
call for the weekend jobs. If it weren't for her, Andy would've fired my ass. I
don't know *why* she helps me, when I'm such a loser...
A loser who babbles even in his dreams. Sleep now. I mean,
stop dreaming, now. Whatever.
God,
his hand felt to good in my hair. Sent shivers up my spine the way he touched
my scalp so gently.
His
hands... are beautiful. I remember that.
I'll just stay a few more minutes, until his hand falls
from my he...
PART TWO
<RRRRRIIING>
"Fuck."
<RRRRRIIIIIING>
"OOOOWWW!"
Pounding in and on my head. <RRRIIIIING> "Shut the fuck up,
please?" Yeah, because phones are able to respond to voice commands.
Shitshitshitshitshit!
I
stumble to my feet and trip over something on my way to the phone. I must've
knocked something over last night before or after I tripped on the coffee
table. I'll deal with it after I stop the PHONE FROM HELL!
"WHAT?!"
I yell into the receiver. And can I just add: OW!
It's Jeanie, of course. But she's not my favorite person
after she gets done with what she has to say. I sigh and run a hand through my
hair. "Jeanie, Hon, I love you. Really. But please don't *ever* EVER call
me to tell me a job's been canceled. Trust me when I say I'm too hungover at
the moment to remember what job you're talking about, anyway. So I wouldn't
have worried about it if I hadn't gotten your call."
Great, now she's upset. "Jeanie.... Jeanie!" Why
me? I interrupt her tirade about 'how
ungrateful I am' to say, "Not now. I'll see you Monday." I hang up
the phone again without waiting for her reply. Okay. Now... I need a Tylenol...
or twenty.
First
thing I notice, not the most comfortable of places, but I've had worse.
I
dreamt of Xan- screaming? Someone is screaming? Where am I?
I wipe my eyes and open them, things are still hazy. Are
those feet in front of my eyes? I try to focus as I look up to where the feet
are attached to legs... and stomach and chest and... head... Xander.
Okay...
I was expecting to pick up a lamp or something. Not a Faith. When did she get
here?
I
vaguely remember a really nice dream but... Oh. It wasn't... Oh.
I rub
my eyes to make sure. Then I pinch myself. Twice. She's not disappearing. I
need to sit.
Damn, I can't make my brain work when my head feels like
it's being pounded by that a really big hammer. "If you're real, I don't
suppose you'd do me a huge favor and go in my kitchen and get the Tylenol
bottle off the counter and bring it back to me, would you?"
Xander.
It's Xander.
Shit.
I didn't leave last night... I fell asleep.
I
haven't been able to that in four months.
Or in
like, ever. But it's only bothered me in the past few months.
"I
can do that." I reply as I wipe my eyes once more and stand up. I avert
his eyes and brush past him into the kitchen. So much for avoiding that
awkwardness. So much for running away. It's a little late for that- unless...
I walk to the window in the kitchen. I manage to crack it
a little. Yes. I can get out. I'll just go. He'll think he imagined me. I start
to open it a little more and resign myself to the fact that yes, I *am* a
coward.
<RRRRRIIING!> DAMN IT! I jump up and forget about the
coffee table. "SHHHHHIIIIT!" I yell, grabbing my other shin as I sit
back down. This... is pathetic. I give up. I'm not sure, but I think I'm gonna
start crying. Oh, maybe not. Laughing. I suppose that's appropriate since I
*have* lost my mind.
Oh, God. My head. "Faith?" I call, wondering if
she can hear me over the phone. "I really, really need that Tylenol,
please."
Shit.
I
close the window and grab the bottle and a glass of water.
I walk back out to find him sitting on the couch.
"Here." I hand him the bottle and turn to leave. Just a quiet exit
because this is *not* how I planned on telling him.
I swallow two of the pills before I say, "Leaving
again? Gosh, this feels really familiar." She turns back to me, probably
to apologize again but I'm not in the mood for it. "Don't. Don't say a
word unless you can tell me why you showed up here last night. Just to see if I
was miserable enough? Well trust me; I was. Am."
"No. I... I meant what I said. I wanted to explain.
But..." I look down at the floor. "I wanted to apologize. But-"
I bite back the tears and look at him. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"You
didn't hurt me," I shrug. "*I* hurt me. I should've known better than
to expect that my life was actually looking up. So really, it's not you I'm mad
at. It's me.
"I
mean, really, thinking about it, *I* was the one who brought up the possibility
of us being more than what it was. And I pushed you to agree, when you didn't
want to.
"So it's okay. But you want me to forgive you? Okay.
You're forgiven. And don't worry, I won't beg you to stay this time."
"Xander,"
I wipe my eyes a little, "I meant every word I said, on the plane and on
the ground, *and* last night. I meant *every* word.
"I
got all your messages and... I was going to call. Things were hard the first
couple weeks and I just didn't have time, honest. And then I was about to call
'cause I had a weekend free, but then I had to go to China. The deal went sour
and I was hiding for a while and that's when I found ou-
"I decided to try and get out, of the business all
together. It just took tim-" I don't even wanna go into the details of
what it was or how I got into the business, let alone how I got *out*. It just
makes me that much more of a whore. "I guess I just needed to tell you
that and..." I trail off. I'm not ready yet to tell him *that*.
"And
then leave, right?" I ask. "You didn't need to explain anything,
Faith. Sometimes things just don't work out and it's not your fault I took it a
little too hard."
I laugh. "I guess that's an understatement, though,
isn't it? You must've been worried for a while there you had your very own
obsessive stalker. Well, don't worry. I got the message. And I am - will be -
okay with it... eventually."
"My own obsessive stalker?" I ask, confused.
"Yeah... the phone calls?" I say. "I didn't always leave a message so I
guess you wouldn't know how many hun-
Anyway, I..." I guess I can admit this much. "I'm glad that
you broke in," I smile. "At least I know you're okay and I *was*
starting to worry about that."
"I've listened to those messages about a hundred time
each," I confess.
"Why?" Now I'm confused. I've never been
brilliant anyway, but it's so much worse with a hangover.
"'Cause you were the one person to treat me like a
human and I... I *missed* you. I wanted to hear your voice again." I look
away and whisper, "It reminded me what I was fighting for."
"If you missed me, why didn't you just call me
once?" I wonder. "Or answer the phone? I *know* you couldn't have
been gone every time I called your home." I know I'm just reinforcing what
a loser I am but I can't help it. I need to know what I did to make her stop
wanting anything to do with me.
"The
people I worked for, the things I was involved in... it was dangerous. If
they'd heard me talking to a friend... you would have been in danger. I didn't
want everything that you'd worked for to be destroyed because of me. I'm sorry.
I tried to find a safe time to call, but... once they knew that I was trying to
get out, they made it that much harder."
I
look up at him, "I couldn't stand it if you were hurt. I couldn't stand if
the fa-" I cut myself off from *that* and just look at him.
"Are
you saying that...do you still want... are you still..." Okay, obviously I
need to work on one sentence at a time. The hangover makes me less coherent than
usual.
That
hopefulness in his eyes is like a dream. "I'd still," I reply.
"I'd really still."
I
pinch myself again. "Ow."
Okay, I'm awake.
"Faith, I can't take another disappearing act. You saw, last night,
how I handled it after last time. So if you're not sure, I really can't do
this."
"Xander, I... it was hard, the past few months. It
was dangerous, and probably stupid, but I did what I had to do so we could
maybe have a future. I have cash too. Enough to take care of the b-"
"The b-?" I ask. "What's a b-? And please
don't make me play a guessing game because I have a really big really loud
hammer pounding in my head courtesy of my poor attempt at alcohol poisoning
last night."
Fuck.
Shit.
Fucking
shit.
FUCK.
I
can't *not* tell him now. But I can't let him think that the only reason I came
here was because of the b-
"Xander,
there's something else... something that made me *want* to change what I'd been
doing. I'm not here *because* of it, not solely. And if you don't wan-"
Shut
up, Faith. Just say it.
"Xander, I'm pregnant."
TBC
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