"Connor..." Wesley rasped as he faded in and out of consciousness.
"Just relax and lie still, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce...." soothing voices told him over the insistent beeping of hospital machines.
His eyes fluttered shut.
"I...I'm back..." Wesley muttered, shamefaced as he slipped in the Hyperion's door.
Cordelia glanced up. "Wesley... How are you?"
"I'll live. For now." He stepped down the stairs, dropping his duffel on the floor. "Is--"
"Angel's upstairs. Has been since he returned without Conner."
He winced at the name. "Please... If I could just explain. It's more complicated than it seems."
"Wsley," Cordelia said seriously, leaning over the desk to look into his down-turned haggard and gaunt face. "You took his son. He can never get Conner back. Or have another one."
"He was going to kill his own son, Cordelia! All that time in my office? I was translating and trying to find a way around it! The prophesy--"
"What about the prophesy?"
Cordy's gaze shifted to the stairs.
Wesley froze, turning slowly, wincing as his eyes fell on Angel. The man looked, if anything, worse than Wesley.
Angel ghosted down the stairs towards him.
"Angel, please..." Wesley whispered piteously. "I--"
"My son, Wesley?" He cocked his head dangerously, face screwed up in agony.
"Angel, I--"
And then Angel was in front of him. "My son, Wesley?"
"It wasn't what you--"
"Angel," Cordy murmured softly, her eyes steady on him, hoping to draw attention.
"Wesley." Angel leaned forward to his face, making his gauntness painfully clear, bags under his eyes, cheeks hollow.
"I'm...sorry.... Oh God, I can't tell you how sorry I am..." Wesley choked out
"My... my son... my Conner," Angel whispered, his voice breaking. His hands fisted in Wesley's shirt, Angel's head dropped to the other man's chest as his shoulders began to shake and quiver violently. For several minutes, there was only the sound of Angel's sobbing.
Hands shaking, Wesley slowly wrapped his arms around him, hugging the man, his own dry sobs echoing quietly.