It's nighttime, and Fred is in her room. She's been reading for a few hours -- more than a few, really. She tends to get lost in her own world so easily that she'd barely realized that it was late
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Wesley comes very, very close to laughing. A dark, horrible laugh. But instead, he keeps that laugh inside, shoves it deep, down where it's been poisoning his spirit for what now seems like ages.
(She was curious.... How things work. What makes them special. She was always searching for what other people couldn't see.)
"She offered to show you her ... library...."
(She was just curious. I think I hate her a little for that.)
And then the laugh comes. It starts low, and quiet. And there can be no question of him laughing at Fred. No, this is a laugh at Fate, and how perfectly this incident foreshadows what's to come.
And only now does Wesley realize that he's been allowing himself to hope. Ever since he came to this place, to hope that this Fred was different. That somehow the both of them being here--Fred andIllyria--meant that somehow this Fred would not leave him, not die.
But, of course, that's not true. Her fate is sealed. Perhaps on every world, in every reality. The Truth, the Power of Illyria was not to be denied. Not on a single world, not on a single Earth.
And perhaps there is a Wesley too on every one of those worlds. The Fool, whose sole purpose, his only real reason for existing, is to be the chief observer to the rebirth of a Goddess.
An august office really. He can't say Fate didn't find a lofty place for him in the Grand Plan.
And that just makes him laugh all the more, as he slumps to the floor, beside her bed.
"...Wesley?" she says his name in an incredulous tone, unable to even use the fond shortened version that she normally would have.
"Can you maybe react a little better to this? You asked, you wanted to know, I knew it wasn't a good idea because this? This is exactly what I was afraid of."
She sounds more than a little angry right now, mostly because she's scared of his reaction.
"What was I supposed to do? Can you tell me that? I was trapped here for months, I couldn't leave, I couldn't go back home even if Bar would let me out, and I'm trapped here with a freakish blue version of me who knows my every thought and who occasionally sees fit to yell at me for endangering her future body. So someone nice and mostly normal comes along and offers to let me look at books. Just BOOKS, not demon specimens or robot ninjas or ghost vampires or evil puppets! What else was I supposed to do?"
She sounds very near to tears by the end of her long tirade.
The laughter scares him too. It's the outward sign of a madness he may not be able to control someday.
But today is not that day. And the laughter soon subsides to a still silence in the room.
He forces himself to look up at her, and then slowly rise to his feet.
"I'm sorry," his voice a quiet monotone. "You're quite right, of course. I'm not helping."
Wesley wasn't always able to do this. To bind his heart in chains. But they're back in place, where they almost feel natural.
"You've been here longer than I have. I should have considered that: how difficult it would be to be trapped here for some time. I'm sorry, Fred. It was wrong of me to--. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You have a right to be concerned. I would be."
She sighs, and stands as well, taking a step forward to bridge the distance between them and then taking his hands in her own, forcing some contact between them to anchor them both to this reality, no matter how strange it was.
"The truth is that every day here I am terrified, and nobody ever sees it. I'm scared to death both of staying here any longer, and of what's waiting for me if that door ever opens and I'm somehow forced to go back through. I'm worried that when the day comes they won't have to force me because I'll be so tired of this place that I'll take my chances against her.
She's faintly trembling now, because this is the most honest she's ever been about what she actually thinks of this place.
"Well. Then perhaps no one can blame either of us," Wes whispers.
And he closes the rest of the distance between them. Gently embracing her, careful not to press against her burns. He simply holds her, trying to make the trembling go away.
Because Wesley knows how fleeting moments like this really are. They shouldn't be here at all, really. Not together again. And the irony of Fred seeing him this way, the way he is after--no, because of--her death, is so cosmically absurd, he has no business worrying her with it.
He should instead be grateful, if he can. Grateful for these moments which Fate--perhaps, after all, merciful, in its way--has given them both to share a little longer.
(She was curious.... How things work. What makes them special. She was always searching for what other people couldn't see.)
"She offered to show you her ... library...."
(She was just curious. I think I hate her a little for that.)
And then the laugh comes. It starts low, and quiet. And there can be no question of him laughing at Fred. No, this is a laugh at Fate, and how perfectly this incident foreshadows what's to come.
And only now does Wesley realize that he's been allowing himself to hope. Ever since he came to this place, to hope that this Fred was different. That somehow the both of them being here--Fred andIllyria--meant that somehow this Fred would not leave him, not die.
But, of course, that's not true. Her fate is sealed. Perhaps on every world, in every reality. The Truth, the Power of Illyria was not to be denied. Not on a single world, not on a single Earth.
And perhaps there is a Wesley too on every one of those worlds. The Fool, whose sole purpose, his only real reason for existing, is to be the chief observer to the rebirth of a Goddess.
An august office really. He can't say Fate didn't find a lofty place for him in the Grand Plan.
And that just makes him laugh all the more, as he slumps to the floor, beside her bed.
Reply
"Can you maybe react a little better to this? You asked, you wanted to know, I knew it wasn't a good idea because this? This is exactly what I was afraid of."
She sounds more than a little angry right now, mostly because she's scared of his reaction.
"What was I supposed to do? Can you tell me that? I was trapped here for months, I couldn't leave, I couldn't go back home even if Bar would let me out, and I'm trapped here with a freakish blue version of me who knows my every thought and who occasionally sees fit to yell at me for endangering her future body. So someone nice and mostly normal comes along and offers to let me look at books. Just BOOKS, not demon specimens or robot ninjas or ghost vampires or evil puppets! What else was I supposed to do?"
She sounds very near to tears by the end of her long tirade.
Reply
But today is not that day. And the laughter soon subsides to a still silence in the room.
He forces himself to look up at her, and then slowly rise to his feet.
"I'm sorry," his voice a quiet monotone. "You're quite right, of course. I'm not helping."
Wesley wasn't always able to do this. To bind his heart in chains. But they're back in place, where they almost feel natural.
"You've been here longer than I have. I should have considered that: how difficult it would be to be trapped here for some time. I'm sorry, Fred. It was wrong of me to--. I'm sorry."
Reply
"Don't be sorry. You have a right to be concerned. I would be."
She sighs, and stands as well, taking a step forward to bridge the distance between them and then taking his hands in her own, forcing some contact between them to anchor them both to this reality, no matter how strange it was.
"The truth is that every day here I am terrified, and nobody ever sees it. I'm scared to death both of staying here any longer, and of what's waiting for me if that door ever opens and I'm somehow forced to go back through. I'm worried that when the day comes they won't have to force me because I'll be so tired of this place that I'll take my chances against her.
She's faintly trembling now, because this is the most honest she's ever been about what she actually thinks of this place.
Reply
And he closes the rest of the distance between them. Gently embracing her, careful not to press against her burns. He simply holds her, trying to make the trembling go away.
Because Wesley knows how fleeting moments like this really are. They shouldn't be here at all, really. Not together again. And the irony of Fred seeing him this way, the way he is after--no, because of--her death, is so cosmically absurd, he has no business worrying her with it.
He should instead be grateful, if he can. Grateful for these moments which Fate--perhaps, after all, merciful, in its way--has given them both to share a little longer.
Reply
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