England (TM)

[Locked to Friends List]

I wanted to call everyone and email them and I really meant to do all that but the more I kept thinking about things the more important it seemed that I should go. Maybe it was getting the presentaion done. I went to bed and all that was gone, so nothing was left but to keep thinking about Buffy.

So anyways...yes. I'm going to England. I have a flight booked for just over six hours from now. I would have worried about passports and IDs and all of that, but someone or something dropped them off at my desk over two weeks ago. Before I even knew I would need them, at least like this. And I mean something in the nicest possible way, it's just Wolfram and Hart has a very open hiring policy.

So I'm all done packing here. I just need to swing by the office and leave a few notes, plus pick up the equipment I'm pretty sure I will need.

So I'm off to try. Please feel free and call, I'll try and remember to keep my cell charged.

Flight

Fred now owns about two weeks of clothes, half of which are now shoved into the suitcase that still has several of its stickers and pricetags. At least it will make it easier to spot, since it's in black, with two wheels, and owning of nothing else even remotely distinctive. It's just the kind of suitcase that is dangerous to check, because there are so many thousands of them out there. Only Fred had made her decision rather quickly, and once that was done just the idea that she had to get the luggage was distracting enough.

Because it would have to be checked. Fred's carry-ons consist of several pieces of borrowed equipment, all of it labeled much more formally, the needed paperwork to clear customs and security all tucked inside. The vials and slides packed and gently placed where she is most sure they won't be damaged.

Soon she is at the airport, politely making her way through the nessecery lines and machines. Whenever Fred can she shares a smile with a harrowed worker or a fellow traveler, or the opinion that all the fussing and growling and frowning only makes things worse. It might be a distracted smile truthfully, but it is a smile.

It's only when she takes her seat that Fred truely begins to fret, wondering if this is really what she should be doing. After all, Boston was only just how showing the glimmers of something like a possible home. But it was Buffy. And that was just a word to Fred, but it came close to being one of the biggest words there could be. This was the Buffy Angel had loved so much, and the Buffy Cordy and Wesley had remembered so fondly, and the Buffy that had been Willow's friend, and now Kara's friend too. And such a person shouldn't be past tense in her head, but still it keeps happening no matter how Fred argues with herself.

That's why there has to be England.

By the time she lands there Fred is more than a little pulled and frayed herself, unable to sleep from all the thoughts and the arguing. She still would have liked to go right to Buffy's, after all she has the address from when Kara was there, but it's getting late. And then she really isn't sure what she will find there. Fred just hopes that when she gets there in the morning, nothing there is the worse for the lost time. After piling all her belongings into a cab, Fred gives the driver Wesley's address there and allows her eyes to shut for a few moments. As much as she promised, she still hasn't bothered with her phone since landing. She just wants to get there. In the directional sense, and with whatever she might be able to do to help. That sort of there.

Only a few lights are on, and when Fred knocks lightly on the door and finds it unlocked she feels an added sense of chaos, something that might have anything to do with Buffy at all. But she's so very tired, and it's so very hard to tell. Leaving her bags at her feet Fred locks the downstairs door and make her way through the house until she finds Wesley. And she's right -- it's chaos. After talking through and offering whatever she could, Fred slipped out of the room as unnoticed as possible, hands trailing over new walls in curiosity, and for support. Finally she finds an empty room and an unused bed. Curling up on top of the covers, Fred sets the alarm on her phone for four hours later, and drifts to sleep with it still in hand.

((open to the London household))