Title: Delivering Memories
Author: Gaeriel Mallory
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Alec belongs to James Cameron and Charles H. Eglee. Illyria and related characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Note: Written for TTH's Fic-For-All #777 – Illyria/Alec
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Alec knocked on the door and tapped the package impatiently with his fingers. The door opened to show a cheerful brunette woman who smiled in greeting. "Hiya. What can I do ya for?"
He tried not to roll his eyes at her naïveté and held out his clipboard instead. "Jam Pony messenger. I have a package for Winifred Burkle?"
"That's me." She took the clipboard from him and scribbled her signature. She accepted the box he handed her reverently. "Thank you," she told him, all the cheer gone from her voice. "I've been waiting for this a long time. It was something I misplaced years ago and only found recently again." Her hand stroked the box.
Alec raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, sure, lady." He tucked his clipboard into his pack and started to turn to walk away.
"You think you're so superior, don't you?"
Alec froze and turned around slowly. "Okay. Your voice didn't turn all low and creepy, did it?"
Winifred Burkle looked at him with cold eyes. "All you mortals are the same. You think you're important but you're really just the insects beneath my feet." Her hand patted the package gently. "And when one of you who is truly great falls, no one remembers. There is no respect shone to him. He is forgotten."
"Lady..." Alec, who did not feel fear, felt icy chills run up his spine and his hair stand on end. But for some reason, he stayed rooted to the floor of the hallway.
"He will not be forgotten." Her arm struck out and she grabbed him by the collar before he can react. Dragging him into her apartment, Fred looked down at the package Alec had delivered to her. "You shall sit, mortal, and I will tell you his story so that I will not be the only to remember."
Alec allowed himself to be pushed into a rather comfortable plush chair. He watched as she ripped open the box and removed a silver urn, the kind ashes were stored in. "Miss Burkle—"
She interrupted him. "Winifred Burkle is the name of this shell. I am Illyria." Her form rippled and she changed. Her skin and hair was tinged with blue had the sundress she had been wearing was transformed into a red and blue armor that covered her from toe to neck. "And this," she held up the urn, "was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He was my... friend."
Alec sat in that apartment for the rest of the afternoon, unmindful of the rest of the packages he had to deliver that day. Instead, he listened to an old god tell of people who existed before the Pulse, who fought the darkness and won repeatedly, and who fell during one of the most important battles of all.
Illyria carefully placed the urn on the mantle above the fireplace, next to three others. She ran her fingers over them, naming her old comrades that lay within. "Angel... Gunn... Spike..." She faced Alec and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "And you brought Wesley back home to me." She tilted her head and studied the bike messenger. "I believe that this is gratitude I am feeling towards you."
Alec stood and bowed, an old move that he had learned back at Manticore during his training. "You're welcome." Illyria made no move to stop him as he left, leaving her alone in the apartment with the ashes of four friends and her memories.
--fin--