...After the Other

[_fredless]

Who: Fred Burkle and YOU
What: Fred returns after the Expedition
When: Sometime before escape...
Where: Around town and the castle (Initial section for Wesley with more sections to follow)
Rating: PG-13

Comments

Wes' townhouse.

[demonologist]

[He's been scouring the journal, looking for more news, more word from those on the expedition. They're due back today. Needless to say, it's been an exercise in patience (and fortitude due to his headaches flaring up again, although he suspects they're more stress- than injury-related). The waiting has been difficult for him. Especially when things had started to go wrong.

Wes happens to be in the kitchen, pouring himself another tea when he catches movement in the window. Peering out into the front garden he sees Fred. She's finally back! And walking under her own steam. That's something to be thankful for.

He hurries to open the door, but as soon as it's flung wide, he pauses, taking in the sight of her. It's been awful, being left behind, hoping for the best and waiting for Fred to return to him. Whatever greeting he'd been planning to say just flies from his mind and instead he's moving forward to pull her into a tight wordless hug.]

[_fredless]

[The door opens before Fred can translate thought into action and actually move to knock on it herself. There's a moment where she just stands there, taking him in.

For all her speeches about him staying behind -- not only for his health but for her own peace of mind -- she never properly accounted for what it really would mean for her peace of mind. She knew it was selfish, and she knew they'd come to the right decision...

But with every disturbing discovery? With every sample she'd collected? Fred constantly found herself returning to the same central thought --

That she wished he was there.

Fred folds herself into him, irritated at herself when she's not completely successful at stamping down the involuntarily wince at the strain the embrace puts on her arm]

[demonologist]

Fred feels the same, but she smells different. It's a subtle thing, but she's been to places he hasn't and it really shouldn't matter, but it does. Because as much as he's tried to be an independent self-sufficient person over the years, not needing anyone to validate himself anymore like he once did, he finds himself very much wanting to cling and be needy and it would be embarrassing but for the fact that it's Fred. She's home. He's allowed to want to hold her close and reassure himself that she's fine.

At least for the most part. Her wince doesn't go unnoticed and he quickly releases her, his brow furrowing. Catching sight of the strips of fabric wrapped around her arm, he chastises himself for not having checked first.

"You're hurt," he observes softly, his voice finally emerging. Yes, it's stating the obvious, but he's still reeling a bit from the excitement of having her back again. "Does it need to be looked at?"

[_fredless]

It's exactly why she was so irritated at herself, and why Fred did her best to mask whatever discomfort the embrace caused. Because when all is said and done? She can only come down on the side of it being worth it

[demonologist]

"I'd hate to see the train." He murmurs, because it's expected of him to keep things light. Inconsequential. But he can tell that there's something bothering her. Enough that she's off kilter.

The kiss only reinforces that belief, but he returns it with gusto, pulling her body into his, while this time being careful not to agitate her wounded arm.

"As did I." He admits, pulling back as well and then bending down to pick up her pack and lead her inside. "I'm glad to have you home again. But...there's obviously something on your mind, so what did you find?"

[_fredless]

A smile flickers then fades as Wesley mentions the word 'home'.

A month ago Fred would've taken something completely different from its use. No, not even a month. A week. The fact that Wesley even felt at ease enough to adopt it into his vocabulary spoke volumes. But now she can't help but question just what it might mean. Libet had clearly been a home too, at some point. For people not all that different from themselves.

She allows Wesley to take her pack, and a weight is released. Something heavier than the samples inside. Fred can't hear herself walking, a near=coherent ramble that takes place just inside the front door. Despite her many concerns, Fred realizes then she's been internally count the minutes until she could tell Wesley what she saw.

There's the trip there, the creatures that stalked the camp. The attack in cavern and the collapse bridge from earthquake. If it'd been that at all. Then of course, all the test. Water and logic and the bugs. She was sill wearing those bugs.

Finally, Fred reaches their arrival at the

[demonologist]

Wes sits them both down on the couch, wanting to make her more comfortable. He can see how weary she is, but how much she wants to tell him what she experienced. At some point he goes into the kitchen and fetches his now cooling cup of tea and hands it to her.

He listens, not asking distracting questions, but making the occasional inquiry for the purposes of clarification. It sounds like quite the eventful trip and he can't completely suppress the feeling that he still would have wanted to come, even knowing how things had turned out.

There's a growing tension in Fred's body, however, that Wes can't help but be aware of, and it's clear to him that she's only just coming to the part of her tale which has her so unsettled.

"What did you find in there?" He prompts gently, after she pauses to take a sip of the tea - perhaps to mentally fortify herself for what comes next.

[_fredless]

She's long past the point of being tired.

Whatever weariness that'd settled in over the last few hours of their journey back had fled not long after Wesley had answered his door. From a distance Fred recognizes it partly as hard-earned skills, the need to have an ability to push herself through the point of exhaustion. Survival didn't always account for sleep.

But it's more than that. Being back, having Wesley close. There's a cataloged list still spinning inside her head, observations and accounts ten times over the meager accounting of samples inside her bag. Not just what happened. But the new species she saw, the thoughts that lingered. Her hand strays to cross the distance that sits between them on the couch, unconsciously just brushing against Wesley's leg

[demonologist]

He's frowning now, processing what she's telling him, fitting the pieces together for himself and intuitively filling in the gaps of what she's not saying.

"You found the ruins of another Paradisa? A place that once housed many diverse people and which one day just...for whatever reason...stopped? No longer supporting those who'd lived in it?"

And they'd died, huddled together, knowing the end was near. It sounded like a terrible series of tableaux to stumble upon. He remembered how one of his goals had always been to visit the ruins of Pompeii. But now Wes wondered what he would make of it in this context. To see the remains of people who had lived and loved, hoped and despaired. To wonder if a similar fate awaited them all.

"That had to be a disturbing thing to discover. What did the note say?"

[_fredless]

"Libet. We think that it's -- it was Libet." Her fingers curl slightly, as if to again remind herself of Wesley's presence. It had certainly helped, having Lana isolated in the same group after the bridge collapse. But she only knew so much.

"You should've seen it Wesley. The technology that was still powering sections of it was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. For parts of it still to be working after all this time? And if the people in that auditorium died all at once, who was left to set up all those traps we kept running into."

Were they trying to hide what was inside? Or protect it.

She reaches then with her good arm to navigate the pack that now rests at er feet. For a moment the zipper is stubborn, but then it gives. Ignoring other samples Fred pulls out her own copy of the message she scribbled into her journal and passes it wordlessly over to Wesley. Notations and thoughts are scattered around the edges.

[demonologist]

Libet. His gaze narrowed with thought at the name. There were traps. Strange technology. People waiting for their deaths. Had they tried to prevent others from getting to them? Or had the traps been to prevent them from leaving?

Wes reached for the journal, opening it to skim through the first few pages. He would want time to peruse it thoroughly. Time to question her more closely on its contents.

"Libet. Latin for 'pleasing' or 'agreeable'. Plautus, the Ancient Roman playwright coined the phrase: Dīc quod libet. The modern English version being 'say what you will'. It's derived from the Proto-European Luabh, which also can mean love, depending on the context."

His tone was grave but also preoccupied as he leafed though the journal.

[_fredless]

Fred nodded then, watching Wesley's hands as they worked over the pages and her scribbled notations. She didn't need to see his face to be able to navigate the distracted tone in his voice and it some ways? It was easier.

Of course what was eased wasn't in a single one of the entries he was currently examining.

"...and now we're in paradise."

Wesley wouldn't need her to translate. Instead, Fred let a subtle tilt of her chin indicate her journal.

"I can leave it here, if you like. I don't mind."

There wasn't a single entry there she hadn't poured over a half-dozen times already. The walk back had been a fairly quiet one as well, with the injured to attend to. The initial, contained energy from the beginning of the expedition had long given way to a collective exhaustion and people's own thoughts.

[demonologist]

Something in her tone made him look up at her again. Then after the briefest of pauses, he nodded and then deliberately closed the journal.

"It can wait until tomorrow. Right now, you need a hot shower or bath and a decent night's sleep in a proper bed. You're exhausted. Stay here, so that you don't have to make the trek back to the castle."

[_fredless]

It was strange, watching the pages of the journal close and Wesley's hand fold over the binding. It had an oddly quieting effect on her own thoughts, leaving behind a muffled sort of silence. She was aware of how quiet the townhouse now seemed, compared to the near-constant noise of the past week.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to point out how disgusting I am. I probably shouldn't even be sitting on your couch."

Fred wasn't being coy. The matter-of-factness in her tone made that perfectly clear. There hadn't been a single opportunity for shower their entire time out, unless you included their near-drowning during one of the obstacles. And that might've been helpful if not for all the bugs, many of which Fred still wore.

And the vampire finches. Had she mentioned the vampire finches?

She stood then, a flicker of something in her expression acknowledging all normal protests she might've made.

"...how knocked back are you going to be when I tell you I'm too tired to even argue with you?"

[demonologist]

"Don't worry about that."

He smiled, acknowledging that while she did smell a bit...ripe. It was perfectly natural considering the circumstances and he didn't care what she got dirty, he was just glad she was home safe again.

"I promise to be stunned about it in retrospect, but right now? I'm just relieved and pleased. I'll go draw you a bath. You just sit for a bit and finish that tea. Let yourself settle. I'll be back in a few minutes. Would you like a robe to change into?"

It would be a large terry cloth one that he used for himself.

[_fredless]

She wouldn't not worry about it, but then she really hadn't expected Wesley to object either. They were both of them settled in their ways, but neither of them convinced of their ability to alter the other's mindset either. It was a very amicable form of agreeing to disagree.

A silent one as well.

Fred took another sip of the tea, casting a look down at her pack.

"I think I'm going to have no will whatsoever and take you up on that offer too. I don't think I've got anything left that's salvageable in there. It probably all just needs to be thrown away."