Asymmetrical. After the events of Super Symmetry, Fred runs to someone who can understand.
It didn't make sense.
It was like fitting a square into a circle- it just didn't work. Her mind kept circling back to that, kept trying to understand. It didn't make sense.
Why had he done it?
Her logical mind told her that he just wanted to protect her. That he didn't want her to suffer the guilt. But her heart told her that that was just a load of crap, and Fred was a brainy sort, but she usually listened to her heart.
And her heart was telling her that Gunn killing her professor had nothing to do with wanting to protect her, and everything to do with protecting himself.
He loved her- she knew that much- and he couldn't live with knowing that he loved a killer. As long as she didn't directly cause the professor's death, then he could pretend that she was still the sweet and innocent Fred he had fallen for. He could ignore the fact that she was capable of it, and ignore the fact that if he hadn't interfered, then she would have the professor's blood on her hands, and it wouldn't bother her at all.
So he'd done it for her. Which was sweet, and sort of gallant in a twisted way, but it did nothing except make her realize that she man who had loved her didn't know her at all. He would rather live with the guilt over the professor's murder (execution) than face the fact that his sweet little Fred had a deep well of darkness inside her.
Just then they paused at a stoplight, and she recognized the building off to her left. IT was Wesley's apartment building, and what flashed through her mind was: Wesley accepted my darkness.
From there, her decision was easy.
She grabbed the crossbow from the seat beside her (in case they tried to stop her) then slid across the seat, opened the door, and clambered out before the men in the front seat could quite register what she was doing. It only took a second for her to kick the door shut, and then she was darting across the mostly empty road and up to the front door. Luckily for her the light turned green, and so by the time Angel had a chance to get out of the car to come after her, there was a moving wall of vehicles blocking his way, and she was already inside the building.
Wesley looked surprised to see her again, but she wasn't really paying close attention to his expression, because she was too busy getting inside and shutting the door in case one of them really had come after her. Once the door was secured to her satisfaction, she took a deep breath and turned around to face him.
He had his surprise under control, now, and had on his mild British expression, the one that made her want to mess it up even more. "Did something happen, or did you..." He trailed off delicately, and she almost had to smile, because it was so like him to help her plan a man's murder (execution!) but not be able to talk about it after the fact.
"I took care of it, but something did happen. Two something's, named Gunn and Angel, riding to the rescue of my immortal soul."
"Ah," Wesley said, and she felt that same tickle of laughter, because that response was just so him. "Did they interfere, or did you-"
"They interfered," she interrupted. "Angel fought some demon that the professor summoned, and just after I opened the portal, Gunn snapped his neck to that his sweet little girl-" and she snapped the word, "-wouldn't be a killer."
"Ah," Wesley said again. "You didn't react well to that, I gather."
She laughed, short and incredulous. "You could say that," she said. "He stole my revenge. Not out of some altruistic motive, like he claims, but because he just can't deal with the fact that I'm not all sweetness and light."
"Yes," Wesley said," Gunn's worldview does tend to be somewhat... rigidly defined."
"That's an understatement," she said bitterly, and suddenly whirled on him. "What about you? Does it bother you to know that I'm like this? To know that if Gunn hadn't ridden to the rescue like the good little hero he is, I'd have killed that man and felt no guilt?"
"No," Wesley said, calmly despite the fierceness of her gaze. "You know it doesn't bother me, or you wouldn't be here."
"Why?" she demanded. He met her gaze steadily, and she felt almost ashamed because he manage to hang onto his dignity even though she was pushing him into saying she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear.
"It's no secret how I feel about you," he said quietly. "That doesn't; change just because you could have taken the revenge I'd already supported you in taking, I'm not sure anything could change it, but certainly not be something that's minor compared to the things I've done."
And just like that, she let go of her own problems. Till just now she'd forgotten that he had darkness of his own. She'd only thought about the fact that he wasn't going to look at her with horror, or worse, those quick, uncertain glances out of the corner of the eye that Gunn had been giving her. She'd essentially been using him for her own comfort, and that wasn't fair to him.
Her militant posture softened, and she stepped closer, close enough to press her palm against the tense muscles of his chest. A catch in his breath was the only response she got, and she hesitated for a second, unsure how to continue when he wasn't giving her any obvious encouragement.
She decided to just plow on, though, and said, "You know that you're forgiven, right? For Connor, I mean. You know that no one blames you anymore?"
"I blame me," he said, his voice as quiet as hers. "You didn't see angel when I first dragged him out of the ocean. You didn't see the metal box. You can't understand what kind of hell he went through. I did that."
"Connor did that, not you," she argued. "You saved him from that."
"I was responsible for Connor growing up the way he did," Wesley said. "It might as well have been me that locked him in that box."
"Connor's a big boy," Fred said. "He can make his own decisions. He was old enough to see past the blind hatred that Holtz taught him, and he chose not to. Besides, didn't you hear me? You saved Angel. You fed him your own blood to bring him back."
"And now I have to avoid him, until he stops looking at me and seeing food," Wesley said, and then gave a short, bitter laugh. "Ironic, isn't it? That's why I took Connor in the first place, because Angel has had a taste of his blood, and was starting to view him as food. But you know, the issue of Connor is almost irrelevant now. You have no idea who I've become, Fred. No idea what I've done. Don't tell me that I've been forgiven when you have no conception of my crimes."
His voice had gotten harsher, his face colder, but Fred refused to back down- not now, not when she was so close. "So tell me," she said, not letting her voice waver. "If you're so sure that you can't be forgiven, the tell me. What have you got to lose?"
He laughed that bitter laugh again. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that there's always more to lose." But he turned away from her, her hand falling away from his chest, and stalked over to the close door. He shot one last glare at her, then yanked the door open and stepped away with a mocking bow.
She moved cautiously closer, and had to stifle a gasp when she saw the inside of the closet. It was covered all around with heavy soundproofing and bars grating the front, and it's only contents were an upside-down bucket and two pairs of manacles, one for hands and one for feet. There was only one use for a room like this, and she couldn't hide the horror in her eyes when she looked at Wesley.
He smiled, a bitter twist of the lips that held no humor, and answered her unvoiced question. "Justine. She was the woman who slit my throat, and incidentally, she was also the woman who helped Connor sink Angel last spring. She wasn't initially willing to assist me in locating him, but-" he glanced at the closet, "-I changed her mind."
Fred relaxed. She'd been imagining some horrifying sex-slave scenario, but this was different. This she could understand.
She crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist in a gentle hug. His body was rigid and unresponsive, so she tilted her head back to meet his eyes and said the words that needed to be said.
"You're forgiven," she whispered, and he made a low sound in his throat and crushed her against him. She rested her cheek against his chest and held him tighter, ignoring the way that his own tight grip was slowly robbing her of air.
He must have realized what he was doing, because a moment later his grip loosened enough for her to take a deep breath. The movement brought her breasts in contact with the solid planes of his chest and she froze, feeling an unexpected surge of arousal.
And of course, that was when she noticed that his erection was slowly growing against her hip. Her instinct was to duck away, anything to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but after a moment's indecision, she slowly relaxed back against him.
They just stood there for a while, Fred didn't know how long, and held each other. Both ignored the arousal that vibrated between them, and gradually Fred began to realize that she felt... comfortable.
Wesley was tall, but he didn't have Gunn's towering height, of his muscled bulk. Charles made her feel small, and protected, but a lot of times he made her feel too small. Like when she was next to him, she was just fading into his shadow.
She felt secure, tucked into Wesley's embrace with his chin resting on top of her head, but not tiny or delicate or fragile. She felt feminine.
On the heels of that thought, she tilted her head back to look him in the face. His eyes blinked open at her movement, and in that unguarded moment she could see all the want that he felt, for her body and her mind and her heart, and she felt almost overwhelmed. Then his gaze shuttered over again, and she marveled that someone could love her that much.
Because he did love her. He'd as much as said it, earlier, but she'd known even before then. She'd seen the way he used to watch her, before Conner, before Gunn, and she'd known, subconsciously, when she'd come to his apartment, that he wouldn't turn her away, That he wouldn't turn away the woman he loved.
He cleared his throat, and she realized that she'd been staring silently at his face for far too long for convention. Then again, nothing about this situation was conventional.
And because things were so unconventional, and also because she wanted to clear some of the tension between them, she put on her most seductive voice and purred, "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
He stared at her with horror written across his face for a full three seconds before he abruptly threw his head back and laughed.
She smiled and stepped back, taking his hands in hers and leading him gently towards the couch. He followed her willingly, chuckling and smiling at her with such male appreciation that she felt like the only woman in the world.
They sat down on the couch and she curled against his side as if she'd been doing it for years. He put an arm around her shoulder, then brought up his other hand to tilt up her chin, and kissed her.
She turned her body towards him and kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck and threading her fingers through the short hairs at the back of his skull. He made a small noise and pulled her closer and then, when that wasn't enough contact for either of them, she swung one leg over his thighs, till she was straddling his lap.
He moaned into her mouth and gripped her hips to pull her closer. She complied, rubbing sinuously against him before sitting up to take off her shirt. He watched her hungrily, and when she tossed it aside he leaned forward to bite at the side of her throat. He was scattering small, sucking kisses across her upper chest when she tugged at the bottom of his shirt.
He complied with her unspoken request, his stomach muscles standing out as he halfway sat up and pulled off his shirt. She slid off his lap and tugged him to his feet, pretending that she didn't see and didn't understand his half-hopeful, half-disbelieving expression.
It was with a smile that she laced her fingers through his, and slowly led him back to the bedroom.
They were woken several hours later by the shrill ringing of the telephone on the bedside table. Wesley, who was closest, was thankfully the one who grabbed it and said a very groggy, "Hello?"
Fred watched with interest as his face stilled, and he said, "Yes, she's here. No, everyone's safe; there was no trouble." A longish pause. "Really? That's excellent new. Lorne- no- Lorne, of course we'll come. When? Of course. We'll be there."
She watched his face as he hung up the phone. He'd lost the tight, still expression, and the half-smile he'd had when reassuring Lorne. In their place was a half-frowning, thoughtful look, and he seemed to have almost forgotten he wasn't alone as he settled back against the pillows.
"Lorne's found a spell to return Cordelia's memories," Wesley explained. "The spell requires all of her closest friends, however." He grimaced briefly. "Or at least the people who knew her well shortly before she disappeared, since I, at least, don't exactly count as her friend anymore, much less a close one."
"Hey," Fred scolded gently. "Stop that. She just spent a whole summer as a Higher Being- there's no way of knowing if she's changed her mind or not. Not until she gets her memory back, anyway. You might find out that she wants to get y'all's friendship back."
Wesley smiled his bitter smile again, and Fred's heart hurt because she hadn't seen it once during the last few hours. "Cordelia's loyalty is first and foremost to Angel, and she doesn't forgive quickly. I doubt even a stint as a Higher Being could change that."
"Fine," Fred said. "But let's forget about it for now, okay? How long did Lorne say we have before we have to leave?"
"Well, he said right away," Wesley said, and her heart turned over because his smile had lost its bitter edge. "But I'm sure we have a little time to spare."
"Good," she said, and he laughed at the satisfaction in her voice till she silenced him by looping her arms around his neck and kissing him.