Disclaimer: The characters, settings etc belong to Joss Wheedon, Mutant Enemy et al. Am not making money just having fun.
Season: Future - year or so after the end of Season Seven
Distribution - Want, take, have, but do please let me know
Feedback: Good? Bad? Boring? Tell me.
This is in response to Cindy B’s challenge, the details of which will be listed at the end of last chapter.
Giles stood at the arrivals gate patiently waiting for the passengers to disembark from their flight. He checked his watch, at least the plane hadn’t been delayed, so assuming that there would be no hold ups going through customs he could make it back to the office in time for his three o’clock meeting.
Surrounded by friends and relatives buzzing with excitement at seeing their loved ones it was impossible not to get caught up in the infectious atmosphere of goodwill. He banished thoughts of work and let his mind drift over memories of the person he was waiting for.
It had been a long while since they’d last seen each other, both caught up with forging new lives and occupations in two very different countries. He hoped that she was happy, she’d been through enough to deserve that, Giles wondered if he’d be able to tell were she not. There had been times in the past when he’d had not the slightest clue about her concerns and motivations.
With happy squeals of recognition people began to surge through the gate. He saw her first, she stood looking around blankly for a moment, scanning the crowd for someone familiar. He was gratified to see her face light up with a broad smile when she saw him. Giles stepped closer, then after a moments hesitation lent forward and kissed her cheek.
‘Hello Faith.’
‘Oxford! Good to see you man.’
Faith smiled up at him, then as she glanced around, her expression drooped in disappointment. Giles caught the look.
‘Is something wrong?’ He asked, concerned.
‘Certainly is.’
Faith gave the arrivals hall a final glare.
‘I was kind of hoping all British guys were going to be as fine looking as you.’
A woman stood near-by checked Giles out approvingly.
‘If only they were, dear. If only they were,’ she said to Faith, who smirked at Giles’ obvious discomfort at being subject to scrutiny.
‘Chill, c‘mon. Learn to enjoy these moments. Flirt a little, mix it up.’
‘Thank you for your wholly unwelcome advice,’ said Giles dryly.
‘Lighten up.’
Giles reached down for Faith’s bag, she grabbed his wrist.
‘I’ve got that - Slayer strength, remember?’
Giles shook his head and picked the bag up.
‘Decent manners,’ he said firmly, as together they went out to the taxi rank.
*****************
Faith was now sat in Giles’ office, sipping appreciatively at a can of Diet Coke. She both liked and trusted Giles, but was unable curb the desire to act up a little in such a formal, authoritarian setting, so she had lifted up her legs, slammed her boots down on the desk and tilted her chair back. The effort was wasted, Giles made no reference to her posture and simply carried on questioning her about the success she and Wood were currently enjoying on the Cleveland Hellmouth.
‘It is so useful t-to have an updated report from the field. You’ve done well, exceptionally well. I’m so pleased you are able to be here and talk to the potentials. Learning from an active Slayer, however brief the tuition may be, will really boost morale.’
He flashed her a quick smile, making Faith feel ridiculously pleased. She removed her feet from the desk and decided to change the subject.
‘So what’s the deal with this place anyway?’
‘Deal?’
‘You and Wood both refer to it as The Office. This place is huge.’
She gestured expansively at the artwork, stylish furniture and a general luxury of their surroundings; something which she had been impressed by throughout her tour of the new Watcher’s Council.
‘Are you a gazillionaire or something?’
Giles laughed at the idea.
‘Not personally, no. The Council does possess significant financial resources…’
‘That’s been spent on bad paintings and fancy chairs,’ Faith butted in.
‘…a small percentage of which has gone towards p-providing outstanding resources and accommodation for The Council to train and function to the best of everyone’s abilities.’
‘So the old one was crappy?’
‘Entirely.’
The phone on the desk buzzed.
‘Hello. Did I press the right button?’
A slightly confused sounding voice echoed out of the speaker.
‘Yes, Mark. You did,’ replied Giles without bothering to hide his annoyance at the voice’s vague interruption.
‘Ah good.’
‘And?’
‘Oh yes, it is three o’clock. Everyone’s in the conference room, should I tell them you are busy or tell them to wait or tell them…what should I tell them?’
‘Nothing. I’m on my way.’
Giles tapped at the phone, cutting the hapless Mark off.
‘Who was that?’
‘That is the result of doing a favour for an old friend who wanted his son to do something useful between school and the Household Calvary. He managed not mention that the boy is an idiot.’
Faith giggled. Giles pulled some papers from a drawer, quickly scanned the top page, then started to walk out.
‘I’m sorry I have to go. Mark will show you to your room, assuming he’s capable of navigating his way around a building that he’s worked in for two months.’
‘No sweat. Where’s Kennedy at?’
Giles turned to face Faith, leaning against the door frame.
‘I have no idea about individual schedules.’
‘I’ll just follow the noise, I hear she likes to sound off.’
Giles sighed.
‘Yes, you could say that. She does show some promise, but seems entirely resistant to the idea o-of training due to the fact she fought with us. We can’t make her understand that the danger is constant and constantly evolving.’
‘That so? Think me and her should do a little bonding.’
‘Fine,’ said Giles absently as he hurried away, although had he paid full attention to Faith’s tone of voice it might have caused him to wonder exactly what she had in mind.
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