Since his visit to Kennedy's last month, Wesley had thought a lot about trying to resume helping the helpless as best he could without being a part of the Angel Investigations team, but he hadn't been able to motivate himself just yet. For the most part, he'd found himself sticking to his time-honored solution for dealing with conflict, which was, ( Read more... )

Wesley had thought he would go home. Or, well, back to school, rather, though for a while now "home" had been the best word for it. Either way, he'd been on the verge of calling for a cab from the mainland when he suddenly just -- couldn't. Not now, when his ineptitude was so obvious from looking at his face. Or really any part of him -- the ( Read more... )

It was afternoon. Or maybe it was morning. Or night, even. Wesley hadn't moved since coming to his room in the first place yesterday after finishing watching the Games, at which point he'd slumped onto the floor with a bottle of scotch and proceeded to down what felt like most of it. His head lolled back against the bed behind him.

Everything hurt ( Read more... )