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09 June 2005 @ 01:34 pm
Collecting Insurance  
This is insane. I shouldn't be here. Should've shaken the dust of this state from my heels days ago. There's no telling when they'll catch up to me - and they will catch up to me - guess it just depends on how long they want to keep me turnin' on this spit they got me on.

I laugh at that, they've got me on? More like I've got me on. No one to blame for this but me.

Had a chance to walk away once, almost took it too. But then something made me stay. I knew what I was getting into - hell, what I was already waist-deep in - but still I stuck around.

Now though, now I can't stomach it any longer.

I glance down and see I've been flexing my hand without even realizing it - my right hand.

Strange that I'd get an attack of the scruples now, I saw innocent kids slowly bled to death at the whim of a client and never batted an eye. Seeing Brad in that glass cage, being used the way he was, I knew that could've been me. Guess I'm selfish after all.

We were interns together, we were buddies, then I must've done something that got me fast tracked. Youngest Junior Partner in the history of the largest and most powerful firm in this or any other dimension. And Brad wound up as spare parts.

The rattle of a cage door rolling open drags my attention back to the here and now. They won't take kindly to me leaving, definitely won't like me siding with their sworn enemy to bring down part of the firm. They will hunt me down. They will find me.

Luckily, I got some insurance.

A voice crackles over the intercom and she steps out blinking in the sunlight.

"430019, coming out."
faith_misplaced on June 9th, 2005 12:59 pm (UTC)
The sun catches my eyes, making me squint to see the figure waiting for me. Definitely not Angel, 'cause hey, no flamey death goin' on. Might be one of his crew I guess, won't be Wesley. Not after all I did to him.

He coulda killed me in that alley, still not sure why he didn't. I deserved it.

But then Angel showed me that what I deserve and what I get are two wildly different things. I don't get to die yet, that's the deal. I get to atone for what I did. I get to start to make amends.

That's the whole deal with this prison thing, I don't have to be here - hell knows I could walk out any time I wanted, but I don't. I didn't. I'm paying, and if that means spending the next 25 years in a 4 by 6 room then so be it.

So why am I out?

I'm starting to make out some of the details now. Jeans, shit-kicker boots, t-shirt and flannel shirt combo. Definitely not Wesley.

As I step forward my prisoner number echoes around me for what I want to be the last time. And then I see who it is.

The Lawyer.

I stop and turn round, but the gate's rolled shut again, locking me out.

"Hey!" I shout through the bars, "Let me in. I'm goin' nowhere with him."

No answer, the clerk just looks bored in his bullet-proof kiosk and shrugs at me. I'm not getting back in.

My mind races, I can't go back to working for them, I won't. Not now. I square my shoulders and turn to face him, resolute.

"Might as well turn round and leave, 'cause I aint coming back."
lost_lawyer on June 9th, 2005 02:09 pm (UTC)
I smirk a little as she makes her stand, still got the same fire she had when we first met. Still as stubborn.

I lean back against the door of my truck, getting comfortable.

"Good to see you too Faith. So glad you remember me." She scowls and it just makes me grin even more.
faith_misplaced on June 9th, 2005 02:17 pm (UTC)
He settles back like he's got all day. Didn't expect him to leave, but then I didn't expect him to settle in for the long haul either. Huh.

I take a look at the truck he's leaning against - hella different from the limo his bitch 'associate' toured me round LA in. The truck is one of those old classics, the kind that'd give some of the petrol-heads I've known a hard-on. It's definitely a fixer-upper - can't even tell what color it's supposed to be underneath all the rust.

I narrow my eyes a little, the flatbed's packed with hold-alls and I can see a guitar case in the cab. Like someone's planning on getting out of town and not coming back.

Something's seriously wrong with this picture.

After a few minutes of standing glaring at him, during which his grin never falters, curiosity gets the better of me and I walk over to him.

"Nice wheels." I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "They really know how to treat you right over at W & H don't they?"
lost_lawyer on June 9th, 2005 05:48 pm (UTC)
I control the surprise as she walks over to me, somehow I expected it to take a lot longer than this.

"Put it this way, they certainly know how to take care of their employees. It's what you might call, a job for life." I let the grin drop from my face as I gesture round at the truck. "This? None of this has anything to do with them."

She frowns and looks around, looking for the trap maybe.

I've spent the last five hours practicing how I was going to play this, how I was going to convince her I need her help.

Everything I prepared goes out of the window as I catch her eye.

"Faith. I want out. And I need your help."
faith_misplaced on June 9th, 2005 08:13 pm (UTC)
I raise my eyebrow and look at him. He expects me to believe that? Doesn't look like he's lying but then he's a lawyer, lying's like breathing for him.

"Well, I want in. Wanna help?" I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to the prison behind me. Truth is though, I don't really want back in. Seemed like a good idea at the time, doing my time, paying my dues. But truth is prison wasn't doing any good for me.

I'm a Slayer. I should be out there, trying to make the world safe.
lost_lawyer on June 9th, 2005 08:45 pm (UTC)
I drop my head to the side, keeping eye contact.

"Do you really?" I ask, letting just a little sarcasm drip into my tone. "Wouldn't you rather be out, fighting the good fight?"
faith_misplaced on June 9th, 2005 09:56 pm (UTC)
Damn, he's good. I knew law school took a good few years, guess they spent most of the time teaching them how to read people because damn if it doesn't seem like he's reading my mind.

Something about the way he's looking at me, evaluating me, seems odd. He's not all doey eyed or anything, but there's something there I don't remember seeing - no, there's something missing. The mask, the veil. He's not hiding anything.

He means what he's saying.

"And what - you're telling me you've switched now? You're one of the good guys?"

lost_lawyer on June 10th, 2005 06:40 am (UTC)
The sneer on her face drops a little and I allow myself a little moment of self-congratulation. Still got it.

Years spent learning how to twist jurors round to the client's point of view left me with a real sense of how to tell when people are wavering. Faith's doubting her opinion of me right now, whether she knows it or not.

Time for the closing statements.

"I'm getting out, I quit. Took a good chunk of the firm's interests in LA down." Okay so that's an exaggeration - destroying the transplant section is only going to be an annoyance and they'll probably have it up and running again in a new location by now. "I don't expect you to believe me, so here. Take this. Ask them about me."

I reach into my pocket and take out the cell phone - not the top of the range one I had a few days ago, that was company property - and hand her it along with a business card.

I can see her eyes widen as she sees the design on the card. The stupid little lobster-like scribble. She takes them both and turns away, chewing her lip. For a minute I think maybe she's not going to make the call, that she's going to just keep walking. Then she stops, looks up at me, and starts dialing.

The smile works its way back onto my face.