By Misty Flores – mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly – and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.
Additional Notes on previous chapters.
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CHAPTER TWELVE
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Late Night Friday – The Hyperion Hotel
The headache was now a dull throb. With each beat of her pulse, she still felt it, in every heartbeat. Swallowing hard, she massaged at her neck with trembling fingers, offering Faith a shaky smile as she slid off the bed. "I think I should go home," Cordelia said. "I shouldn't be here when he wakes up."
The Slayer held a dark gaze on her, leaning back against her pillows with practiced ease, despite the turbulence that Cordelia knew she must have been feeling. "Yeah, 'cause the running? Working wonders, Cor."
"Oh yeah, you're one to talk," Cordelia snapped, and immediately winced, turning her head away to avoid seeing the expression on Faith's face. What was it about this girl that brought out the inner bitch? The silence was awkward, until Cordelia risked another look, only to find Faith's eyebrow raised suggestively.
"Wanna keep going on that topic?" she asked pointedly. "See how far that takes you to another black eye?"
"Hey, we're way past threatening now, bitch," Cordelia said flippantly, a smile emerging on her own face at Faith's smirk. "I know about your vibrator."
Faith couldn't help but grin at that. Sitting up, she took it, studying the contraption carefully, and then set it on top of Cordelia's purse.
"Oh, EWW." Cordelia's face displayed her disgust as she lifted her purse with a pinkie. "I'm going to have to burn this now."
The telephone next to the bed shook in its cradle, and Faith gave it a bored look, before reaching over, and putting it to her ear. "What the fuck is anyone doing calling at this hour?"
"FAITH!" Cordelia hissed, reaching forward with her hand.
"Oh yeah. Angel Investigations. You helpless, or what?"
"Oh, for goodness sakes!" Cordelia grabbed the phone from the laughing Faith's hand, glaring at her as she put it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Cordelia?"
"Fred?" The voice on the other line sounded like Fred, but Cordelia wasn't quite ready to buy it. "What the hell are you still doing out?!"
"I… um… sorry?"
--
The telephone chimes, followed by the answering cry of Connor, pulled Angel from his sleep. Sitting up, Angel was disoriented, fitful dreams of memories and nightmares drifting together, flitting through his mind. The phone rang again. Gathering his son closer to his body, Angel reached a long arm over to the nightstand, voice thick with sleep as he prepared to answer it.
Instead, two voices drifting from the receiver caught his attention.
"Fine, Fred. Just be careful. And don't do it again."
"I won't - hey, I can stay out if I want to!"
"Fred…" Cordelia began in a warning tone. Cordelia? Angel sat up, narrowing his eyes at the phone, looking around the room with suspicion. Connor continued to wail, forcing Angel to finally hang up the phone. Cradling his son to him, feeling under his diaper automatically, Angel's fingers found the wetness of Connor's bottom. Grimacing, he pulled his hand out, holding it away from him as he smiled down at his son.
"Stinky little man."
Setting him up on the changing table, Angel mechanically began to perform what needed to be done, mind whirling on the phone call, recalling every word. Fred… staying out? And if Fred was out, that meant Cordelia had to have answered the phone, and if Cordelia had answered the -Faith. Angel paused, mind locked onto the laughter he heard in the background, and when Connor foot smacked at his hand in protest, he jerked himself out of his thoughts, reaching down to change the child.
"Sorry, kiddo," he said regretfully, fastening the last strap and kissing his forehead, depositing him into his crib, turning on the little wheel that Cordelia had bought him. It began to tinker the song she had chosen, some David Bowie tune. She had been so proud that she had found it. Her face when she had held it out had been amusing. A bright grin illuminated every feature, as she made a point of showing him every little elephant hanging from the wheel, every twinkle, all the while arguing with Gunn and Wesley that 'Under Pressure' was a perfect song for the baby. He found himself smiling at the memory, shifting his finger so that Connor grabbed a hold, giggling and laughing at him, content and dry.
"Do you mind if I step out for a sec?" Angel whispered, gently scruffing the small down of Connor's hair, little blond tendrils finally peeking out on his previously bald head. Remnants of Darla, and it made the smile falter. One day he would tell Connor about her, teach him about the beauty that had sprung from darkness. The hope of a miracle that his child truly was. For now, Connor was blissfully ignorant, staring at his vampire daddy with a smile of affection, dancing eyes that were free from pain, free from hurt. More than anything, Angel wanted to keep them that way.
Sighing, he reached for Connor's teddy bear, setting it alongside his sleepy son, and moved back, out of the door, keeping the baby monitor in his hands as he walked down the hallway. Sensitized hearing alerted him to low whispers, laughter, some conversation. His stomach tightened, hand sliding against the plaster on the wall as he recognized Cordelia's voice.
Closing his eyes, bracing himself, he reached for the knob, pushing the door open.
Cordelia and Faith shifted their gazes toward the door, Faith's look blank, Cordelia's quickly turning to one of panic. She grabbed something from on top of the bed, and stuffed it into her purse. Angel's eyes narrowed, following the movement, missing Faith's smirk when his gaze locked with Cordelia's intensely.
"Hi."
"Hi," she responded evenly, crossing her arms, straightening away from the bed.
"Was that Fred on the phone?" he asked, finding he could think of nothing better to say.
"Uh… yeah." Cordelia offered a tense shrug, glancing at Faith as she responded. "Said she was staying 'out' with Gunn. Some sort of librarian's slumber party. I didn't ask."
He frowned. "My guess is they're getting a hotel room," Faith said, arms behind her head.
"Oh. What?"
"She's joking, Angel. We don't know – Fred said she was fine, we left it at that."
Angel was surprised at her almost civil tone, mind still floating with questions at finding her in Faith's room, in his hotel. His gaze stayed on the soft hazel orbs. Until he heard her barely discernable quick intake of breath, saw the way her hands trembled slightly, and worry quickly overtook any other emotion.
"Cordelia… are you –" Stepping forward, he froze when he realized, that just as quickly, she stepped back, jerking away from him. Faith was quiet. Blinking, he brought his hands down, almost ashamed. "You're in pain," he said finally.
"Look," Cordelia said, her tone soft, and civil, but still not meeting his eyes. "I had a vision earlier today, and you didn't answer your phone, so… I need to teach you how to use your voicemail."
"You had a vision?" His voice was worried, but she only flashed him a quick smile, nodding quickly before motioning tiredly to Faith. The Slayer said nothing.
"It's fine, Faith took care of it." Her words came out incredibly civil, almost to the point of monotone, conversational at best. He continued to watch her, drawn back into staring into her eyes, hoping for a sign of what to do. "Cordelia," he finally began, voice lower now. "Maybe we should -"
"Angel…" Cordelia gave a short shake of her head, almost scared as she stepped back. "I can't, okay? There's too much to think about and… I'm sorry if I ignored you before, but, you had a point, okay? Maybe…"
"No, that's what I – I didn't."
"It's okay." She sucked in her breath, offered him a bright smile. "I have a headache, so I'm going to go."
"I can take you."
"Angel, no." Her voice was firm, eyes flashing with the force of her words. "It's not…" she sighed, blowing out her breath, offering him an awkward smile. "Things have changed, okay? You have things to do, I'll be fine. I've- we gotta start this off somewhere."
"I can take her home," Faith offered, rising from her position on the couch.
"No, Faith. You need to rest, okay?" Cordelia turned to her, looking away from Angel, allowing him time to stare at her searchingly, trying desperately to find a way to counter her stubborn pessimism. He had never seen it in her before. It didn't… fit.
"Get some rest," Cordelia reiterated. "And we'll talk later." There was tenderness between the Slayer and the Seer that hadn't been there before. It confused Angel, broken from his gaze with Cordelia to look between the two, with eyes of a bewildered outsider.
"What about tomorrow?" he finally asked.
Cordelia slowly shook her head no. "I have plans," she said finally. Desperation was quickly building up inside of Angel. Her eyes locked once more with his, and the anger wasn't there, and instead seemed replaced with… sadness. To see the grimness in Cordelia's face made him almost wish for the anger.
"Cordelia," he began thickly.
"Bye," she said shortly, resisting another looking at the vampire before scooting around him, moving out the door and slamming it shut behind her.
Angel was quiet, eyes on the door, began to move toward it, when he heard Faith's short, "Don't."
He stumbled to a halt, glancing back at her.
"Just don't," she repeated. Faith's elbows rested on her knees, her eyes were sunken, sad. Her entire posture was rigid, and her tone was firm. "She's dealing with some shit, and it's not all about you, so don't. Give her time."
The words were final, Faith, who had before crumpled in his arms in sobs, now pushed herself to her feet, walking to the door, moving the handle, opening it for him. "Do yourself a favor, Ang," she said, shoulders shrugging. "And stop trying so hard. All you're doing is reminding her of shit she can't have, and she's suffering enough for you."
"Faith…" Angel's stricken whisper melted her features somewhat, as he moved forward, torn between reading the obvious pain in Faith's face, and going after Cordelia. "It's not… I care about her."
"I know," Faith said simply, sinking against the wall, eyes moistening slightly. "That's the only reason I haven't kicked your ass."
Leaving the door open, she moved to the bed, suddenly tired, and lowered her exhausted frame onto the mattress. Angel paused, and his heart thumped slightly. Memories of a lost, little girl sobbing in the rain slipped through him, and he found himself moving to her side.
"Faith," he began. "I've been meaning to talk to you…"
Stiffening, she gave him a startled look, and finally offered her old friend a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, man. You're not going to try for the heart to heart NOW, are you?"
He blinked, and when she gave another laugh, he smiled grimly back, shrugging. "Bad timing?"
"Oh, the worst." She gave him a nudge, however, indicating it was alright. "It's okay, Angel. You've been distracted."
His eyes moved again to the door, thoughts of Connor, Darla, Cordelia flitting through his mind. "Yes, I have." He sucked in a long breath. "But that doesn't mean-"
"I know. And you'll pay amply, in time." Faith was silent, her voice suddenly soft when she spoke again. "You're lost Angel, just like the rest of us."
"I don't know what to do," he finally said. "I don't know how to be a father, I don't know how to be anything to any of them…" He closed his eyes, a low, angry growl emitting from his throat, a fitting illustration to his anger. "I can't be anything to anyone."
She was still there when his eyes opened, watching him with a peculiar, sad expression, and without another word, Angel suddenly had an armful of a shuddering Slayer. Quiet, stunned, Angel only held her, carefully pulling the brown strands away from her face as she trembled.
"Faith-"
"Don't," she answered, words mumbled through the darkness of his shirt. "Just don't. I don't want to hear anything, I don't want to feel anything, ever again."
There was nothing Angel could do, holding Faith the way he had held her before, desperate and scared, as she sobbed softly in his embrace, tired body giving in to the emotion that had been buried within. In the end, he closed his eyes, kept his cheek against the top of her head, and pulled her closer. Just like before, he understood her anger, he understood her confliction, and more than ever, he felt it now. With a ragged sigh that his dead body would never need, Angel closed his eyes against thoughts of the woman he loved, against the son he was afraid to disappoint, against the grimness in Wesley's eyes, and against anything else in the world.
Just like Faith, for one second, he didn't want to feel a thing.
--
The Present – Kate Lockley's Apartment
Kate Lockley sucked in her breath, perched on her bed, body tight with tension as she looked between the three brunettes who each spilled their story, one by one. With each revelation came new questions, and Kate was sure she wasn't the only one suspicious about the night that Faith eluded to with Angel. Faith's face was unreadable, posture loose, expression uncaring as she leaned back against the pillows she had used to cushion her place on the floor, fussing with a lost tendril of hair, pushing it back over her shoulder.
Fred gave a small, audible gulp, looking between her and Cordelia.
But the Seer's reaction was the most surprising, and it struck Kate, just how much she had changed in the three years she had known her. In her first year of employment at Angel Investigations, the brunette had been all smiles, rolling eyes, frivolous, and young. Impossibly young. Kate had remembered the feeling of suspicion and anger, another time she encountered the Seer, a year later, during Angel's 'dark' period. Insistent on protecting the vampire, Cordelia stood up to her, with short hair and tired eyes, and her scathing comments had not been lost on the detective, who mentally noted everything. And now, here she was, with short, lightened hair, body visibly tired, eyes tinny, a beautiful antique. Cordelia appeared older than her twenty-one years, in posture, in body, in face.
The Cordelia of now didn't blurt out her response, she didn't lose her cool at the thought of her vampire- HER vampire, Kate noted. Interesting how possession of Angel had shifted to her during the night – spending the night with Faith. She instead cocked an eyebrow, and asked quietly, "Did you sleep?"
Faith looked up, eyes shifting with an almost nervous gesture, if Kate didn't know better. She managed a short, brusque, nod. Cordelia closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded back. "At least one of us did." Hazel eyes opened and met with the dark brown of Faith, and in the intense stare that was shared between the two women – and Kate was STILL not ruling out moira, despite what Fred said – was a conversation that was shared.
Fred caught it, sighing with relief when both women looked away, and whatever needed to be worked out, suddenly was.
"So, I have a question," Fred began, curiosity on her face as she shifted onto her knees. "How'd you know about Holtz and Faith? And how come Gunn and I never saw you with Justine?"
Faith gave a grim smile as she locked glances with Cordelia. "I avoided them like the plague," she said immediately. "It was that simple. And when the hell did you learn about that whole Holtz shit?"
"Duh. The next morning."
"You talked to Wes?" Faith asked, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Of course I did. I told you I was going to bitch him out."
--
Saturday Morning – Virginia's Condo
Wesley opened his eyes to find himself in a familiar, and yet, unfamiliar place. His hands brushed satin sheets, his tuxedo had been replaced with flannel pajamas. Confused, he narrowed his eyes, only to wince when his left eye seemed swollen shut.
"What the bloody-"
"You're awake."
At the voice, he swallowed, as suddenly everything fell into place. "Virginia?"
The redhead appeared at his side, holding a cup of tea, smiling apologetically. "Yeah… sorry. I would have… but you-" He stared at her blankly. She flushed, and rolled her eyes. "You got drunk? Started to ramble? All about the Slayer killer girl and you-"
"Oh, Lord." He groaned, falling back onto the pillows.
"-started talking about the wild monkey sex you two had, and about the amber darkness of her eyes – and mentioned something about a Justine – Wesley, how many women have you slept with since we broke up?"
He opened the good eye, found Virginia staring at him with open curiosity. He held up one finger. "Just that one."
"Ah." There was an awkward silence, and another quick flash of a smile, before she handed him the tea, and a pack of ice. "Well, you were no picnic taking home, I'll tell you that. All with the rambling and then with the talking about the scars – you're a very conflicted man, you know that?"
Wesley felt a headache coming on as he offered his ex-girlfriend a smile of thanks, taking the tea from her outstretched hands. "It's been an interesting year."
"Interesting choice in women, too. And Cordy's hair? I thought it was dark again. She looked tired to me. But the other one – did you really do it on Cordy's couch?"
"Bloody hell…" Wesley straightened as well as he could, his headache pounding now. "Why didn't you take me home?"
"You said your keys were in your pocket, and there was no way in hell I was putting my… 'rich spoiled brat hands' down there." Virginia smirked. "Still a little bitter?"
"Bloody hell."
"You said that."
His gaze suddenly locked on his clothes. "But I let you undress me?"
"You were too passed out to argue."
"My clothes?" She pointed to the tux hanging on a nearby impeccably furnished chair. "I had the maid hang it up. That eye really looks bad, Wes. Maybe you should put a steak on it or something. I'd offer, but I don't have any food here. Javier hasn't gone shopping in ages. Insists that all I do is eat out."
"Javier?"
"Butler."
"Ah. What about Mark?"
"Got bored."
"I see." Shuffling his feet over the side of the bed, he winced again at the throbbing in his head. "How much did I drink?"
"A lot. You stunk. I have to wash those sheets. So… you had sex with your Slayer?"
"I… bloody –" He buried his head into his palms, shuddering. Parting his fingers, he peeked at Virginia. "Was she terribly mad?"
"She punched you out. Cordelia had to drag her away."
Cordelia. "She knows?"
"Yeap."
A tinny sound caught his attention, and he began to shuffle through the sheets. "Is that my cellphone?"
"Oh! Yeah." She began to help, looking under the bed. Wesley finally found it under a misshaped pillow.
"Hello?"
"WESLEY! YOU DAMNED BASTARD!" He winced, holding the receiver away. "YOU'VE GOT TEN SECONDS TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT. TEN."
"Good morning, Cordelia."
"Don't you 'good morning' me! You're the LAST man I expect to act like a dog, but if I hadn't pulled Faith away, you'd be ground beef!"
"Yes… I … thanks for that."
"Thanks for NOTHING!"
"Is that Cordelia?" Wesley nodded to Virginia, and she smiled broadly. "OOH! Let me say hi!"
"Virginia -" But Virginia had already grabbed the phone away, smiling into the receiver.
"Cordy! Hi!" She listened, nodding, her red curls bobbing. "No, I'm great. Oh, he's great too. I KNOW! Did you see that fall line?" Wesley blinked. "Yeah. It's actually February. Oh, it's great! We'll totally have to go! Okay! Well, it was great talking to you! Yeah, totally. Coffee and - oh sure. Toodles!" She handed the phone back to Wesley, smiling. "She's so sweet."
Wesley took the phone trepidly, putting it gently to his ear. "Hello?"
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING AT VIRGINIA'S?!"
He winced, again pulling the phone further away from his splitting eardrums. "Cordelia, calm down -it's not what you -"
"It's one thing, Wesley, to mess with ONE woman. THAT's despicable enough. But now you've dragged VIRGINIA into it?!"
"I didn't drag her-"
"You are so MALE-"
"I bloody hell am NOT!"
"Do you want some breakfast?" Virginia asked suddenly, bouncing off the bed and heading to the doorway. Wesley suddenly felt as if he was in the middle of a cartoon.
"I'm still waiting. For some semblance of HOPE, Wesley, that you're still are half the woman I think you are."
"I -what?!" Wesley wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a rather horrible insult.
"EXPLAIN!"
"I… about what?"
"FAITH!"
"Oh." He blinked, taking a breath, trying to battle his headache with common sense. "Alright. Uh… yes, Faith and I… one – see I found out she was… with Holtz-"
"What does Holtz have to do with this?" she demanded.
"Nothing! Everything, bloody hell my head hurts." He sank down on the bed, looking up to see Virginia come in smiling with a tray.
"Toast!"
He gave her a patronizing grin, turning back to Cordelia. "Look, I was attempting to trace Faith's reason for being let out, and I started looking into her past visits and I discovered something."
"Okay. I'm listening," Cordelia said, sighing. "But I'm still VERY pissed off at you."
"Look ending up here wasn't my idea!"
"Right, and I'm sure you're NOT wearing those pj's you complained about her keeping."
"I'm not -" he gulped, looking down at his clothes. "I'm- that doesn't matter. What matters, is I found out Faith had been getting visits from a woman with connections to Holtz, and when I confronted her with the information -"
"You accidentally had sex with her instead?"
"It's a bit more complicated than that." He swallowed, and said almost timidly, "But… yes."
She sucked in her breath, shaking her head. "Goddammit, Wesley."
"I didn't mean to!"
"You didn't?! You are such a woman! Next thing you'll be telling me is that your clothes just HAPPENED to fall off, and you just HAPPENED to find the right hole to stick your -"
"CORDELIA!" he hissed into the phone, freezing when Virginia came forward.
"Butter or jam?"
He blinked. "What?"
She smiled, shaking two little packets at him. "Umm… neither."
"Okay!" Rolling his eyes, he turned back to Cordelia.
"Cordelia, it was a mistake."
"No shit, Sherlock! Wait… did you just say Faith is involved with HOLTZ?!"
He sighed. "Ah, you caught that little part of the conversation, did you?"
"Are you shitting me?"
He blinked. "Shitting you?"
"Oh, sorry. Faith is a bad influence…"
"Pardon-"
"Faith and HOLTZ!?"
"Nothing we should worry about- BLOODY HELL! VIRGINIA!" He jumped back, the toast falling into his lap.
"Sorry!" She reached for the toast, but froze at his look. "Right! I can't do that anymore… I'll be over here," she said, moving to the sofa. He sighed, shaking the crumbs off as he leaned into the phone.
"I don't EVEN want to know," Cordelia said dryly.
"Cordelia, the point is, I began to spend time with Faith and…"
"Decided to screw her?"
"NO! I wanted to help her! And unfortunately, things got a little out of… hand."
Cordelia sighed audibly, her voice almost normal as she said calmly, "You hurt her, Wes."
"I think my black eye is more than testament to the fact she hurt me, too."
"Oh please. You get black eyes all the time, but NO woman gets her heart broken and doesn't emerge - FUCK, Wesley."
"And again with the cursing."
"Hey! I just spent over six hours with YOUR one night stand, okay? And now, I'm wondering why I didn't let her kill you!"
"Cordelia, I care about her, all right? I care. I know I hurt her, I didn't mean to-"
"Fix it." He blinked.
"Pardon?"
"Fix. It." Cordelia enunciated. "Talk to her. Get down on one knee. Whatever you do, DON'T accidentally have sex with her again, and FIX IT. She's HURTING Wesley. Get down to the hotel, and TALK to her. You owe her at least that."
The phone call ended with a click, and Wesley sighed, the tightness of his chest constricted as he groaned, grabbing the dry piece of toast and glaring at it, seconds before tossing it away.
"So… you gotta go?" Virginia asked, munching on her bread. He looked up, saw her as well as he could with his headache and swollen eye, and managed a crooked, strained smile.
"Yes."
She nodded. There was an awkward silence, and Virginia said softly, "So… you're in love with a killer, hum?"
"What?"
"Faith."
He gave her a stunned glance, suddenly self conscious. "What makes you think that I-"
"You told me. Last night." Virginia offered a grim smile. "You do ramble like nobody's business when you're drunk, Wesley. It was really annoying." With that she stood, tossed him his suit, and walked out of the room.
He stood, his body aching, his heart pounding. "Why the hell do I end up with such insane women?" he mumbled, pulling off his shirt and reaching for his tuxedo. He needed to get to the hotel, as the words kept resonating in his head. He had hurt Faith. Bloody hell.
He must have looked like the bloody devil, as he walked into the Hyperion Lobby, body tense and on edge, moving toward the stairs. He had been in Faith's room once before, rummaging through her things in an attempt to find out her 'intentions'. He had found nothing but a piece of machinery he had rather wanted to forget.
Now, walking to her room, he wondered exactly what he could say to her, what he would say that would make it better… This had been such a bloody - But could he go another day with the image of those dark eyes staring at him with horror, with the words that spilled from her full mouth?
She hated him.
He froze, shuddering, raking fingers through his hair, eyes on her closed door. She had looked at him with such eyes of … dare he say it, love - before. That night. She had moved against him, skin against skin. It had been his mouth on her perfect breasts, his hands roaming over her body. She had given possession to him. She had made love to him. It had been… bloody beautiful… and now, she hated him. Because he hurt her.
Who the bloody hell was he kidding? He took the final steps, heart broken and heavy. He would do whatever it took. Let her punch him again if need be, just to get her to listen to him. To listen to the broken ramblings of his heart, to try and understand how this had swept them both away and just maybe -
Frozen, Wesley's mouth dropped open at the sight that befell him. There was nothing more he could do but wince, close his good eye, and push away from the door, walking down the hallway, away from the image of Faith and Angel, asleep in each others arms, in Faith's bed.
--
The Present – The Hyperion Hotel
Charles Gunn sat still on the sofa, his hands again moving over the fabric, mind awash with images of his last encounter with Fred on this very…
"You're going to wash that."
Charles looked up, glared at the vampire, but nodded. "Yeah."
Angel crossed his arms, looked over his shoulder to where Wesley was speaking quietly with Lorne.
"I'm sorry," he said finally.
Startled, Gunn just stared at him. "Say what?"
"About… you know… lately. I should have been there for you."
Charles was silent, lips pursed together as he studied the vampire. "Hey," he finally said, shrugging. "Not like I gave you much of a chance, right, dog?" The two men fell silent, and Gunn added, "I'm sorry, too."
"So… we're both sorry."
"I guess."
Angel remained standing, arms crossed, but a slow smile drifted across his face, despite the grim look in his eyes. "I'm family, huh?"
"Don't push it," Gunn warned.
"Never," Angel replied, a dead pan look on his face. Charles sighed, leaning his head back against the couch.
"Where do you think the girls are?"
Angel was quiet, his response not coming out right away. "I don't know. Maybe at Cordelia's."
"Yeah… and how come you're not over there?" Gunn said, finally sighing in frustration and waving his hand emphatically. "Geez, man, siddown! I can't talk to you when you're all… standing and stuff! I'm getting a crooked neck!" he exclaimed, massaging at his neck, looking back down at his lap.
"I told you, I'm not sitting there."
Gunn shot him a look, but didn't argue further, instead going quiet, eyes suddenly taking a distracted glaze. "Angel," he said finally. "When you first ran into Faith, after she tried to kill you and all that, how'd you know that she really… you know… wanted to change?"
Angel pursed his lips, dark eyes intense as he pondered Gunn's reasons for asking such a question. But the tone was sincere, and Charles' expression was serious as he gazed imploringly at the vampire.
"Justine?" he asked shrewdly. The expression he received was a grim one, as the bald man nodded, scratching at his head, leaning back on the couch, hands together in a gesture of anxiety.
"I just… she said she wanted to change, Angel. Talked about stuff, and… someone had to believe her, right?"
Angel slipped his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed and remained quiet. Gunn didn't need an answer, he needed the right questions, and Angel didn't have them. Who could know exactly what lay in a person's heart?
"Gunn… there are moments that you just have to take that chance. Sometimes, if one person is willing to believe in you, that's all it takes."
"Like Faith?" he asked.
Angel pursed his lips, lost in contemplation. "Maybe. I don't think that was all of it. Faith was lost, she was looking for a way out, either way. She was tired of the pain, the emptiness. She wanted to end it. One way or another."
Gunn sighed, closing his eyes, shoulders slumping with the invisible burden that always came with caring. "I just… I don't know what to believe. I want to help her, man, but what if-…" he trailed off, lifting his chin to regard the vampire. "You're not gonna give me an answer, are you?"
Angel smiled, never more understanding of the young man's plight than now. "No, Gunn. I won't. But whatever you decided, I'll be behind you."
Charles finally smiled, chucking at Angel's hand affectionately, if not a little sadly. "Thanks," he said.
And he meant it.
--
Saturday Morning – Rondell's Warehouse
Charles had some roamy hands when he was asleep. Fred stayed completely still, eyes open and curious as she nestled in Gunn's embrace, on the old mattress that had been assigned to them to sleep the night away in the old warehouse. The night had passed somberly, with Charles fighting a headache most of the time, but thankfully, the wound had proved not to be TOO dangerous. No concussion, or head injuries. And it had ended in this kinda nice way. Reminded Fred almost like summer camp, with the whole sleeping on the floor thing. Except in summer camp, she liked to stay inside and read, was afraid of the bugs, and even more afraid of the boys.
Gunn slept like a big old bear, too. He snored, big raking snores that vibrated through his chest and made her back tingle, as his cheek brushed against hers. And if he was a big old bear, then she was his teddy bear, 'cause the whole night, he would NOT let her go. Fred hadn't been uncomfortable with it. After the night that had passed, along with the fear that had come with it, Fred was glad to still have him in her arms, the comforting reassurance of his weight against hers, of his hands flat against her stomach, pulling her into his side. It was nice, and safe, considering the circumstances. But it was just a little more than friendly.
Fred frowned, eyes moving over the other boys and girls that were sleeping on mattresses and cots and sometimes boxes and coats, before turning to Charles, moving so that his hands now splayed over her back. That done, she studied his sleeping face. It was different than she had seen it, and it made her smile, to see that look on his face. He drooled a little, and despite the fact that any other time, she might have found that just a little bit icky, she still smiled. Big old bear. But not hairy. Charles wasn't hairy at all. Biting her lip in concentration, she traced her fingers over his arms, wishing that the sweater could be gone and she could feel the smooth skin underneath. Even a nice head. Her fingers drifted toward the dome, and she never really considered bald men handsome before, but Gunn could pull it off.
Was it friendly to have the queasy feeling in her stomach? Was it friendly to spend two straight nights sleeping together, and one of them spent… not exactly sleeping? Was it really just friendly to be able to know exactly what Gunn looked like? Well… all of him? Her cheeks burned at the thought, coming along with the realization that she would most likely not like Cordelia seeing all of Gunn, and especially not Faith. Wrapping her arms around her big bear protectively, Fred settled against him, brushing her lips against his softly, before closing her eyes.
He wasn't lost. He was right here. With her. She had been with him, and he wasn't lost. She hadn't lost him. The thought filled her with such contentment, she felt her heart thump against his chest, and she liked it. This not getting lost, together. It was… safe, and nice… and friendly.
And not.
It was probably mid morning, ten maybe, when Rondell shook her shoulder slightly, disturbing her from her thoughts and giving her a silent stare.
"Come get some coffee," he finally said, motioning with a jerk of his head, to the door. Fred looked at him blankly, but when he gave her a grim stare, she finally nodded, carefully extracting herself from Gunn's embrace, running fingers over the scab on his forehead.
"Is there a store around here?" she whispered. "I should probably get some more cleaning stuff for Gunn's head."
"Yeah. Come on."
Outside, it was a warm seventy-five degrees, and Fred only needed her light sweater. She was thankful for that, considering she only wore the light dress. The coffee cup steaming in her hands, and the bag of supplies under one arm, she had to wonder exactly what Rondell wanted by asking her to come alone. Her eyes were wide and questioning as she sipped on the bitter liquid, using the drinking as an excuse not to speak, as the young black man walked beside her, jaw ticking with obvious tension.
It was in her nature to ramble, to do anything to fill the silence as the two walked now, but somehow, that seemed wrong right now, and she kept her mouth shut, except when she was drinking, for fear that she would do exactly that. Even now, her mind was distracted with observations that were itching to float onto her tongue, such as the white cat that was walking past the ladder, and would people still think it was bad luck if it wasn't, and if that was true, would it be racist to think so -
"Fred."
She blinked, turning to catch his eyes, giving a short, grim smile. "Mmhmm?"
Rondell paused, posture tight with unease as he regarded her. "You two had no intention of coming to join us, did you?"
The liquid in her mouth choked her unexpectedly, and she coughed, leaning forward, face going red with the hacking. He was patient, waiting for her to regain her senses, spitting out the black stuff, and pushing her glasses further up her nose, blinking at him. "What?"
His gaze remained firm as he repeated the question. "You two weren't gonna join us, right?"
She knew why he hadn't asked Gunn. Fred seemed utterly incapable of telling a lie. She had spent so many years among the lies and deception of Pylea, and now, honestly was the one thing that was left for her. Utterly refreshing, even when it hurt, it was what she appreciated in Angel when she first met him. There were no lies about him, nothing… deceiving. Gunn also held that blatant honestly, but even now… She was finding herself increasingly uneasy with the complication of his mind.
"I wasn't, no," she admitted, offering a meek smile, slowly raising her coffee cup, gripped between two palms, to her mouth. "But, Gunn… he did it because he was worried, Rondell. He cared. He still does. A lot."
Rondell's eyes narrowed. "That's why he left, then, huh?" he answered, his tone dry.
"I don't know why he left, Rondell," Fred said honestly. "I don't know why he considered coming back, or even why he sleeps with me. But I do know that he's got a heart. And he cares so much, it hurts him. Because he can't be everything for everybody." Her smile trembled slightly, eyes darkening in thought. "And he feels like he has to be. In his life, he's never been less than everything. It makes you hurt."
Fred wasn't sure if Rondell quite understood what she was saying, but her fingers were trembling slightly against her coffee cup and her teeth chattered, and he offered her a grim smile behind moistened eyes, before stringing an affectionate arm around her shoulder and leading her back to the warehouse.
"You know what, for a freaky pretty little white girl, you're all right, Fred."
She rolled her eyes, but nudged him in his ribs. "You're alright too, Rondell. You know, for someone who once held a gun to my face."
"Never gonna let me live that down, are you?"
"I tend not to forget a lot," she answered honestly. "It's not my fault. My mind just works that way."
Walking into the darkened hallway, she moved back to the room that held the old mattress, that held Gunn, and found her steps faltering when she found another body on the mattress, in Gunn's arms.
The other person had red hair.
--
end chapter