Author: Scarlet Rose
Pairing: Kate/Faith (slash F/F)
Rating:
Summary:

Faith shudders in the crisp, cool night air, but doesn't think to close the window. She paces by the doorway, eagerly awaiting her lover's homecoming. Heels clicking staccato on the floor, empty pulses ringing in the hollowness of her heart. Void, until her dear lover comes back.

Faith hates nights alone. While solitude has always been her guide, she never admits to anyone how much she hated the blackness of night swallowing her with its stillness. She'd kept as much company as she could in the past, though none could ever take away the frightening void of the night. At least, until she'd met her.

Met her in a cold, sterile hallway lined with criminals. Whores. And that's what she was. Drained of life, devoid of conscience, she lived by the minute and didn't fret over needless things. A few years of confinement had changed that. Light suddenly seemed much better when it wasn't dulled by concrete slabs the color of slate. Air tasted sweeter when you weren't sharing it with so many other people. Freedom was a lot more free when you weren't always looking for the next high- whether it be sex, drugs or violence.

When Faith had met her, she'd hated her. Hated the prim look of blond hair caught in a bun, of solid and sensible black suits. She'd always come to visit her, which had given Faith a laugh. At first, she'd tolerated the woman because...well, she didn't get many visitors. Then, because she found the woman was intelligent. And quite funny, if given to the right mood. When she'd gotten out, the woman had met her.

And she had been all Faith had. And while Faith couldn't pretend that she still wasn't wild inside, given to spontaneous specks of rage and unadulterated fear, she was learning to give in. Give in to the sensation of being loved, of loving in return. Both had issues with trusting people- not given to spurts of unquestioning honesty. But the other woman had given her a chance, and Faith had taken it.

But when her lover had to go on business trips, Faith loathed the darkness that came after twilight. Locking the deadbolts with solid thumps, she'd sit inside her guilded cage, locked until her girl could come and set her heart free again. Fearful if she stepped out that solid door, her life might dissolve into a sea of broken pieces and she may never see the other woman again. And she hates the dreams. When she sleeps alone, without the warmth of the body she loves next to her, she becomes fretful.

Dreams of white men in lab coats, and mint green hospital gowns, and torturous needles that hold serums too powerful for even Slayer strength to counteract. Feels fear slide like acid down her throat, into her stomach, congealing into pieces of melted steel. When she wakes, body sliding on the combination of silk and sweat coating the bed, she reaches for the nightstand. Clutches the cross her lover keeps there, in the hidden drawer.

Faith has lost faith in higher powers, but the cross makes her feel safer. It's a piece of her girl to keep with her, to lay next to her. She searches her murky memory to pick out good memories of her and her lover- to get her through the night. And makes it to the next morning.

Finally, she hears a key in the lock. Stops suddenly, muscles tightening and relaxing. Fearful, until the tall and strong woman that she loves walks through the door. Looks critically, frowns at the mess of blackness under her eyes, revealing her girl's own sleepless nights. Watches as a suitcase slips to the ground, hitting it with a resounding bang. One that doesn't resonate in her heart- it's filling up already- too full for pain. But still, Faith waits.

Not one to give her emotions full view, she waits for her lover to come to her. And as she does, taking Faith into her arms, hands sliding like warm satin down her back. Faith sighs, shudders. She has become soft. She would do anything and everything for this woman. For her, she'd rip open her heart, lie freezing in an empty apartment waiting for her to return, and crawl through nights full of terrors and despair for moments like these.

And so, she returns the favor, arms sliding around the other woman's neck, sifting through the tousled yet soft strands of hair. Tangles her tongue with her lover's, tastes the coffee with vanilla she'd consumed earlier. Gently whispers her lover's name like a prayer.

"Kate."

And gives in.