fredless: (Profile : Thinking Thoughts)
[personal profile] fredless
It'd been a bit of a week.

Ok, it'd been a bit of a month.

And really, Fred was refusing to quantify any most time than that because there was no telling what she'd have to label it then. But all she could think was things were getting worse. Lorne was shill recovering, and she could tell he was doing his best to still mask how he was struggling. And honesty it wasn't what he did but why he felt like he had to that kept her up at night. He'd been broadcasting just for a day and they'd been all but run over. (And a bit drunk) What must he be going through, every day, with whatever they were broadcasting at them.

She did didn't fully understand what they'd done to Charles. And not understanding anything was high on Fred's lists of dislikes. Angel was still clearly rattled by what'd gone on with Spike. And Spike? He was still working on remembering he needed to go opening doors again. And he seemed like he might be just a bit rattled too. To add to all of it, Fred was more than willing to admit she'd been a little bit frustrated that all her attempts to recorporealize Spike had been one-upped by a box of air. Heavy or not, if what Harmony said was right. By the time she'd finally got her sensors on it to attempt to get some sort of reading? There's been nothing. Or rather, the absence of anything.

And the one person who might've understood her rambling on about just how hard -- no how universally impossibly it was to generate that kind of nothing? Was fresh back from his sabbatical and still avoiding her.

Or at least talking to her.

Which as much as Fred understood it? She was just as much done with it too. More than done actually. Which left her riding on the elevator for a good twenty minutes straight until Wesley was finally waiting on the other side of the door.

She leveled a gaze at him, curious if he would try and find a way to excuse himself out of this one.

Date: 2014-03-02 07:07 am (UTC)
myassisnotpansy: (intense lineface)
From: [personal profile] myassisnotpansy
Fred was staring at him. Wordlessly. It was, in many ways, exactly the look he dreaded. Her challenge for him to come up with a single thing he could say to make it all right. To make any of this right. And that was his whole history with her, wasn't it? Missed connections, wrong turns. Guilt for things he'd done and not, and could not beg her forgiveness for. Not least because he knew should would give it. And he would not deserve it, so how could he ask?

He should have left after that incident with Billy, should have let her find her own way because he could explain away the darkness but it didn't make it any less his. No, he'd not killed his father. But he may as well have. And he had hurt Fred, over and over. The worst part was that she did not recognize it. She was the most clever person he'd ever met, and she did not need his protection.

Except from himself.

"Oh," he said eloquently, as the door remained open. "I'm going down," he said quickly, not realizing at all that that had been the direction she'd been traveling to begin with.

Date: 2014-03-05 06:11 am (UTC)
myassisnotpansy: (I too have manpain)
From: [personal profile] myassisnotpansy
That was part of the problem. Maybe they could be honest with one another, but who Wesley was was not someone he honestly wanted Fred around. That said, he was trying his best not to be disrespectful.

"I won't stop you," he said quietly. Fred was a strong woman. He wouldn't not have loved her as he did, were she not. She could do as she pleased--it only meant he would be that much more vigilant, to ensure he did not let her down.

Very well. An elevator ride. He could do this. He'd endured worse. Though lately, not without the buffer of Angel or Gunn or some other presence. But it was just an elevator. Nothing sinister, surely.

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Fred Burkle

May 2015

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