…MEMORY

The doors burst open.
Illyria nearly dashes
them to pieces
but by some miracle
they remain intact.

Something is wrong with Wesley.

She knows it long before
she opens the doors.

She doesn't know
how she knows,
but she knows.

Illyria catches Wesley
in her arms
before he can
meet the floor.

His skin is clammy.
His eyes are beginning to blur.

Illyria is faced
with the scalding
knowledge
that she was right,
something was wrong.

"Wesley."
She says his name
as if it were some
dull fact
printed in the pages
of one of his books,
but inside,
an unfamiliar feeling
crawls up the surface
of her shell's backbone.

He is wounded.

She inspects
the wound with a
clinical eye.

It is large and wet
with his life's blood
draining.
He is losing blood
too fast.

Illyria's world
begins to spin
off its axis.

Wesley,
her teacher,
her guide
in this primitive world,
is dying.

"This wound is mortal."

Wesley touches
the lesion in
his abdomen
then looks up
at Illyria
struggling for breath.

"Aren't we all?"
he replies.
His tone slightly ironic.

She studies
Wesley's face;
trying to understand
how he can be ironic
at a time like this.

Humans are so
strange
and so…
fragile.

He smiles wryly,
focusing his eyes
upon the blue haired goddess.

"It was good…
that you came."

Illyria returns
his gaze
and states
confusedly,
"I killed all mine
and I was…"

She searches
for a word
she cannot find.

"Concerned?"
He fills in for her,
telling her
the name of the
feeling she has
never experienced
until today.

He seems pleased
and proud of her,
proud that he
has taught her
what it means
to be concerned.

She has learned
another human emotion.

She tilts her head
in thought
the replies,

"I think so."

Her voice sounds
abnormal to her.
It almost sounds sad.

Wesley was supposed
to teach her all
the human emotions.
If in fact she chose
to learn them.

There are too many
to learn and
he doesn't have
enough time
to explain them all.

"But I can't help.
You'll be dead
within moments."

There's not enough time.

"I know."

Wesley's body is growing colder.
His strength is waning.

Illyria does not wish
to talk of death
any longer.

"Would you like me
to lie to you now?"

She had told him
earlier today that
she could
become Fred
for him,
so he could spend
the day with the
illusion of the
one he loved
before the battle.

He would not accept
her offer.

He would not accept
the lie.

He would not accept
a travesty of
Winifred Burkle
in place of the
real one.

And the real Fred
was dead.

Maybe he would
allow her
to lie to him now.

"Yes,"
he winces in pain,
"Thank you.
Yes."

He closes his eyes briefly.

Illyria shifts her features,
replacing
her blue form
for Fred's.

Becoming more human.

Replacing the truth
with the lie.

When Wesley's eyes open
he sees Fred's face
and offers her
the best smile
he can manage.

"Hello there,"
he croaks in greeting.

He gathers a shuttering breath.

Illyria's stomach clenches;
the tears start to fall.
Salt water dripping
from the sea of her eyes.
The tears splash on
Wesley's face as
she strokes his cheek.

"Oh, Wesley.
My Wesley."

Her speaking voice has changed.

It is soft,
warm,
and filled with sorrow.
It contains a slight
Texas twang.
She hopes the sound
will comfort him.

"Fred,"
he whispers,
"I've missed you."

She smiles down upon him.

"It's gonna be okay,"
she says reassuringly,
"It won't hurt much longer,
and then you'll be where I am.
We'll be together."

It is of course a lie.

When Wesley dies
he will not be
reunited with
his lost love
in the afterlife.

Winifred Burkle's
soul was destroyed
when Illyria took hold
of her body.

But the truth will not
bring Wesley peace.

"I…"
he pauses and
fights to finish,
"I love you."

She places her lips
gently to his.

"I
love
you."

And Illyria does.

This is not a lie
as everything
else has been.

She cannot deny,
even to herself,
that she
loves Wesley.

He is gone now.

Forever.

She settles his head
carefully to the floor.

Sighing through gritted teeth
she stands to face
Cyvus Vail.

Wesley's murderer.

Anger floods Illyria's senses.

First this meaningless creature,
Cyvus Vail,
will die.

Then all who serve
The Wolf,
The Ram,
and The Hart.

They have broken
and humiliated her.

Now she will
return in kind
every blow
and every sting.