fredless: (Poof by azuremonkey)
[personal profile] fredless
Mama had a bad habit of picking up used puzzles and games from yard sales. And it wasn't that bad, not really. 'Cepting for the part where she never could seem to remember what games were already sitting back home in the hall closet. It's how they ended up with three Monopolys and two very battered versions of Life. That, and a whole heck of a lot of puzzle three or four pieces shy of completion. You'd spend the whole of a weekend hunched over the kitchen table, trying to work through one. Only to get to the very end, staring at those spaces where the table shown through.

Almost, but not quite.

That's what it feels like, she thinks. Almost. But not quite.


But not...what's she missing?

They're talking about her. Fred's pretty darn certain of it. But the fact that they're not talking to her, explaining what all those reports and readings are saying? Well that's more worrisome than the variety of needles they're already insisted on sticking her with and why is it...

Why was it so hot?

Wesley was going to have her head.

She was going to have to tell him he'd have to wait for her to be finished with it first.

It really was ridiculously warm.

Fred wondered if Mama still had those puzzles in the hall closet.

Life.

Almost. But not quite.

Date: 2015-05-16 10:20 am (UTC)
demonologist: (Default)
From: [personal profile] demonologist
"Lorne didn't tell on you," Wes countered, his smile deepening briefly at the thought of it. Lorne was a little more flamboyant and prone to gossip than most people, but he was loyal and an exceptionally good friend.

Then his expression sobered as he took in Fred's more insistent gaze. He contemplated glossing over what he knew, seeking to ease Fred's worry. But he knew that he owed her the truth. After everything they'd been through together, how could he deny her that?

"It's bad." Which, perhaps, was an understatement, but he trusted her to look past his words to infer their meaning. "They don't know what's wrong yet, but believe me, they're going to be moving heaven and earth to get to the bottom of it. And if they don't, they'll have me to reckon with."

It wasn't a boast, it was the truth. Nothing meant more to him in that moment than finding out what ailed Fred and making it right again.

"There's no conclusive data as to whether it's a poison or virus or something mystical, but we're going to find out. We'll beat this and...you'll be good as new. We have the whole firm's resources at our disposal, after all."

He squeezed her hand, trying not to falter too much at the last part. Because in his mind, he couldn't help but blame Wolfram and Hart for what was happening to her. This had to have been an attack - not an accident - his gut instinct told him.

Date: 2015-05-17 10:39 am (UTC)
demonologist: (S5 - attraction)
From: [personal profile] demonologist
"No. They're not," Wes acknowledged softly, his gaze never leaving hers. "You're a survivor. You always were."

He'd never forgotten the moment he'd first seen Fred in Pylea; standing there with blood dripping from her upraised hand. Afraid and yet not afraid. Distracting Angel from his blood-lust, drawing him away from his and Gunn's position. She'd saved them both that day.

"A fighter." His eyes shone for a moment, allowing his admiration for her inner courage to show plainly on his face. He usually held his emotions in tighter check; his default way of coping with situations.

But not today.

Today he didn't feel quite so in control of himself. His expression then took on a slightly more disapproving mien.

"Which probably means you're going to insist on leaving this bed at some stage, I expect." He knew Fred was the sort of person who could never leave a puzzle alone, he was much the same way. They both needed answers, time was very much of the essence. His own department was already scrambling to investigate the source of her illness. They would most likely need the scientific team to delve into the problem as well. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit over-protective of her.

It couldn't be helped.

"Promise me you won't over-exert yourself."
Edited Date: 2015-05-17 10:44 am (UTC)

Date: 2015-05-19 10:17 am (UTC)
demonologist: (fantastipink)
From: [personal profile] demonologist
Afraid that he was putting too much weight on the bed, Wes shifted backwards slightly, trying to give her more space. If the charts were correct, she was in considerable discomfort. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at her complaint, remembering the banter from weeks before. He couldn't quite manage another smile, however.

"Someone really ought to," he agreed, reaching out to adjust/fluff them as best he could. Then his expression sobered again, despite his intent to keep things as light as he could.

"Can you think of any unusual events in the past few days? Points of possible contagion."

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Fred Burkle

May 2015

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