The Blue Room
Chapter Two
Minimum squishiness. Joy.
And since I forgot a disclaimer last time: None of these characters belong to me. That mad genius, Joss Whedon, cooked them up in his miraculously twisted mind. Bully for him. Now on with the story.
Please, please, please review! I'm edicted to them. They are the only motivation I have. I have it in my head that if no one's reviewing then no one's reading. So, pretty please?
It's dark. Gunn is asleep on the couch. He has his bedroll by the air conditioner, but he never sleeps in it. Sometimes he just comes off on me as strange.
Wesley is asleep too. Except he's got a bed. The hinges on his bedroom door are loose and it keeps swinging back and forth. Every time it does that I jump like the dickens! I really don't wanna get caught, I just—have to see what's in there. Actually, I'm fairly certain it's a who. There's a who in there, and I don't think it's a very happy who.
Oh, Lord…It's really cold in here. The room ain't very big, but it ain't small either. It feels something like a dream. It very well may be, my watch says it's after 1:00am. But my watch ain't what's causing that feeling. It's the space. The air itself is smothering. The bright city lights from the window give the room a dull blue glow, and the dust hangs in the air like tiny snowflakes. I mean, if snowflakes were microscopic hairs and mites and other miniscule life forms that have no common purpose on this earth but to burrow into your skin and make you itch like heck. But anyway, what I'm getting at is how thick the air feels. Not just because of the dust. It's as though hundreds of years of memories have been forced together in this little room, and I feel like if I stay in here much longer I might drown in them.
I turn to leave, thinking what a waste of time this turned out to be and how tired I'm gonna be in the morning--when suddenly, out of the shadows speaks a voice. The voice is low, obviously male.
"You're new." It says quietly. I can't see anything. I find myself wondering if maybe one of the lost memories is trying to speak to me. At this point I don't realize how close to the truth I really am.
"I reckon I am, yes. We haven't been introduced—I'm Fred."
For a moment there's only silence. It's starting to get a little creepy. I'm about to repeat myself, just to make sure I didn't make the voice up in my head, as I tend to do that from time to time. But I'm saved the trouble.
"You should leave. I'm—I'm not…"
In an instant I'm out the door. You only gotta tell me once. As I lean up against the door, listening for any sign that Wes or Gunn may be awake, there's a dull throb. Pretty soon the throb grows to the point where it ain't so dull anymore. The only thing I can think to do is stick my fist in my mouth to keep from screaming. The pain is indescribable. Adjectives fail me as I'm here, trying to describe what it feels like to have your head crammed full of someone else's thoughts. But when it had ended, I already knew what had happened.
"And that's it in a nutshell." Fred finished. Wes, Gunn and Oz were all staring blankly at her. She sighed loudly. "I was babblin' wasn't I?" She asked flatly, already knowing the answer. Her audience nodded, eyes wide.
"I find it endlessly fascinating that a woman such as yourself can explain something so seemingly complex in a matter of about a minute." Oz finally blinked. "Did anyone see her even take a breath?"
Wesley and Gunn had both stopped listening past the word 'woman'. Use of that word by a young man towards a young lady had certain implications. Gunn narrowed his eyes, silently wishing for this guy to give him one reason…
Wes on the other hand simply cleared his throat and went back to his notes.
Fred looked annoyed. She had worded her explanation very carefully in her head, but still she couldn't spit it out the way it was supposed to be. It frustrated her that no one would ever know that she could in fact put a sentence together.
Gunn thought for a moment. "I don't get it. How did Angel give Fred the visions?"
"It's an act of will." Wesley explained, not looking up from his book. "Generally it's passed using the most powerful emotion--love. A passionate kiss or something to that effect will do the trick."
"Then how did Doyle—" Gunn began. For a moment all four of them sat deep in thought.
"Huh." Oz grunted, eyebrows raised.
Wesley almost fell into a fit of giggles, but was able to retain himself for two reasons.
Because he was the adult here, and if he couldn't maintain control they were all doomed to die horrible deaths.
Because giggling is generally considered a feminine trait.
"What I said Gunn, was that love is the most powerful human emotion. And it's the first a seer would need to pass the gift on to someone who shared that emotion. But if love isn't there, and I mean in a passionate sense, then one must move on to the second most powerful emotion—hope."
"So what you're sayin' is that the visions just jumped from Doyle to Angel, Angel to Fred, and there was no kissing?" Gunn asked.
"Precisely." Wesley answered.
Gunn breathed a sigh of relief. "Good." All assumed he meant the situation with the two men, but that wasn't his feeling at all…
"Why would Angel give Fred the visions?" Oz asked and then sputtered. "Wait a minute, I'm just now catching on, Angel's here!"
"Long story, why don't I bring you up to date later?" Wesley said. "And to answer the first question, I assume Angel simply wanted to get rid of the visions, but in his mind the situation was likely to seem more desperate. He probably felt so strongly that it triggered the switch to the nearest body."
"So where does hope fit in?" Gunn questioned, leaning back into the couch and folding his arms.
Wesley smiled. "Because Angel's not entirely lost. I do believe he understands his situation; he's simply unable to communicate to us in a manner that we would consider…well, sane. I think he may have been overwhelmed with the idea that he may one day come back. I think that hope was enough to rip the visions from him."
"Why didn't he just give 'em to us all the times we went in there?"
"I don't believe he found us suitable candidates. He chose Fred for a reason."
Fred blushed. "Y'all are so sweet!"
All three men turned and smiled at her. All three men felt their hearts skip a beat when she bashfully smiled back.
Later, after Wes and Gunn had fixed themselves some sandwiches, Fred offered to give Oz the skinny on everything that had happened since Sunnydale. How she ended up in L.A., how Angel went kooky—all of it.
Gunn pulled Wesley aside. "Angel's still in there, man. I promised him blood and a shower."
"I already gave him dinner." Wesley said flatly.
"Well he says he's still hungry and—"
"Of course he's still hungry. A vampire will never be contented no matter how much you give him."
"Wes c'mon."
"No."
"What's your deal?"
"Are you in love with Fred?"
Gunn blinked repeatedly.
"What?"
"Are you?" Wesley grilled.
Gunn stepped back and leaned against the kitchen counter. "I dunno…"
"You don't know or you won't say?"
"Both I guess." Gunn concluded, shrugging again. Wesley looked down at his feet.
"I'm sorry." He said finally. He adjusted his reading glasses and cleared his throat. "You said he wanted a shower?"
"Uh…yeah…" Gunn looked Wesley over. "You alright, man?"
Wesley looked up again, his features bright and happy, but if you looked closely, his eyes were dull and empty. "Yes. I'm fine." He pasted a smile onto his face. "How about I take Angel this time?" He offered. Gunn closed his eyes, silently praising God.
"Thanks, man. I'm not sure I could handle seein'—"
"Understood." Wes nodded and walked out of the kitchen. Gunn stood there for a moment reliving the conversation.
"Are you in love with Fred?"
He walked into the living room, where Fred was still speaking to Oz who was trying his best to catch everything. The door to the spare bedroom closed as Wesley entered. Gunn felt very isolated.
"Wes!" He called through the door. "I'm gonna lay down. I'm usin' your bed!"
"Alright, good idea!" Came a muffled voice. Gunn nodded and retreated to the master bedroom, still consumed in thought.
'Me…Fred…Love?'
"—So then I just blasted into this demon karaoke bar! And Wes and Gunn were there, and they saw me and I think I kinda scared 'em senseless cause they kept starin'. But my head was still kinda kaploey, and not much of my story was makin' a whole lot of sense, but they got it cause Angel had had a vision about me and so they took me here and I was just moochin' off them—"
'The most beautiful thing I've ever seen…'
"—I'm helping out some now, and since I got the visions I've been doin' my own work. And it ain't too much, I just wish they didn't hurt so bad—"
'Look at that smile…'
"—Still a little confused and I'm not sure what I'm gonna—are you listening?"
Oz was shaken from his thoughts. "Oh! Uh-huh. Karaoke blasting, Angel-mooching, and head-kaploey type visions."
"That about sums it up!" Fred giggled.
"So when do you start explaining how you all ended up here?"
"I thought I did."
"Not yet." Oz said with a smile.
"Oh…well—"
"Okay Angel, we're going to walk to the bathroom. You've done this before, you know the drill."
"Uh-huh." Angel nodded. "I get a shower, right?"
Wesley looked at him amazed. "Yes, you do. That's what we're doing right now. Are you ready?"
"Uh-huh." Angel repeated.
"Good." Wesley opened the door. "Don't run Angel."
"I'm not going to." He answered bluntly.
They walked out of the room and past the living room towards the bathroom.
"Hi Oz." Angel said, waving. Wes was dumbstruck.
"Oh God…Angel?" Oz's thoughts froze at the sight of Angel's shabby condition. He was almost unrecognizable.
"Angel, you remember Oz?" Wes asked when they had made it safely to the bathroom.
Angel nodded, as he started undressing. "I'm not stupid." He scoffed.
Wes didn't know what to say. He turned on the shower.
"Angel, do you need help?" He asked, meaning help with the clothes.
"No." He sighed as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "I can do it."
"Do you want me to—?" Wesley moved towards the door.
"Wait." Angel handed Wes his clothes. "Can you wash these?"
Wesley smiled. "Absolutely. I'll be back for you in ten minutes." Angel nodded, and Wesley shut the door behind himself, locking it.
As he made his way toward the washing machine he wondered…