Ah well...
Mar. 25th, 2004 01:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lonelybrit*sigh* Well, one report got handed in anyway. The other... don't ask. There were electron densities, logarithmic scales, unidentifiable emission lines... grrr.
Anyway. During lunch break and after I'd handed my one report in, my brain promptly went and died in a rather pathetic way - resulting in an utterly pointless little drabble. Still, felt nice to finally get to write a few sentences that did not require hopping over to the font toolbar so I could insert greek characters. It's unbeta-ed, un-spellchecked, and when I last looked I'm not even sure that it has a proper ending.
It contains spoilers up to 'Shells', so if you don't know which colourful creature has visited Wolfram and Hart, stay outside the cut :)
The real sucker-punch came when he realised that Fred wasn't the only loss that day. It took a while to figure out, what with staying in hospital and then resting at home on the Doctor's orders. Or maybe Angel told the Doctor to keep Gunn away from them all for a bit. Whatever. He's happy to go along with it.
Of course, the first day back was nasty. People's heads turned when they thought he had passed. Conversations stopped suddenly when he turned a corner or doubled back to pick up something forgotten. But he's no damn kid. Sticks and stones may break my bones. But screw you I've got worse things on my conscience than what you sheep think of me.
It did sting to see it still there. See that thing wearing her body like its own. Made the gut twist how they all just talked to it like they don't notice or care that it's Fred's disjointed voice asking them pointless questions.
"It's not her, Gunn," Angel says when Gunn remains silent. "Ask me, ask Spike, ask Lorne. Soul, scent, aura... There's nothing there."
"Then why the hell are you letting Wes do what he's doing?"
Angel regards him levelly for a heartbeat or so, like Gunn is expected to know the answer. When the icy silence continues he says: "He's moving on. I suggest you think long and hard about how to do the same."
That really pisses Gunn off. Being talked down to like that. He's suffered before, he's lost before. And he's still damn well standing and hell will freeze over before he lets some scraggy old demon get the better of him. He just needs some time and space first. Just slow the pace a little, give him some space, let him deal.
He doesn’t know Spike and Angel anymore. They talk to him, keep him up to speed, but there are whole conversations going on between them that none of the others will ever hear. Everyone knows that and the cracks are widening.
Lorne just won't look at him, period. If he does accidentally catch his gaze then the dulled grief briefly sparks and smoulders into simple anger. And then it's funny how the coloured ties and garish suits just lose their sparkle, just become the not so subtle reminders that it’s only personal choice keeping this guy from following his family's more bloodthirsty traditions. All in the blood they say.
He's killed them, that's the killer blow. Taken the family and shattered it like ice. Destroyed them from the inside out, removed the heart. Who would have thought that even possible after losing Cordy. Go team.
After the initial briefing in Angel's office, Wesley came to find Gunn. The conversation had been simple, short, more an announcement than anything else. In a nutshell, Wesley assured him that he, Gunn, had no fear of further attacks because quite frankly Wesley didn't think him worth the effort.
Oddly enough, it was that meeting that finally knocked Gunn back into some kind of life. Cos, hell, seeing utter detachment is one thing, seeing numbed and dull pain another. But seeing absolutely nothing, just dark emptiness looking back at you is another thing entirely. It made him finally sit up and look around and notice.
And Wesley was always with Illyria. They alternated between the books and the lab, walking together, carrying on discussions that had clearly been going on for hours. It felt wrong, downright sickening the attention that creature got. Trying to speak to Wes without that unwanted shadow was nothing short of impossible. It never left him when someone asked to have a word. More worryingly, Wesley never asked it to. Instead, Gunn was made to feel like he was the intruder, like he was the one who shouldn't be there.
"It's sucking him in," Gunn snaps back, anger rising at Angel's unreasonable calm. "Look, I messed up, I know that, but that doesn't suddenly make me totally blind. Illyria doesn't give a damn about this world. Once it's got what it wants it'll drop him and how do you think he'll take to losing Fred again?"
"Illyria's not Fred..."
Gunn almost snarls with frustration. "I know it's not Fred. But maybe you should remind Wes that."
A pause while Angel thoughtfully swallows any immediate answer. "He needs this, Gunn," he says eventually. "It's not just about Fred anymore."
And that’s that.
The days pass and eventually the offices start catching up with the rest of the world. Lorne's heard telling Harmony the 10 funniest things you just had to know about that meeting between Timberlake and MacKellen. The next day Spike and Angel spend a whole three minutes in the middle of the lobby bickering, not arguing, bickering about Spike getting an office.
Gunn watches them all with quiet envy as they reassemble and repair their lives into something liveable. One time he caught Wes and Illyria doing the same. They had stood on the walkway staring down at the moving world of Wolfram Hart. It sent a slight chill down his spine seeing them both like that. Creepy cold stares like they just saw you as a bunch of cells and nerve endings responding to stimuli. Nothing more. Then Illyria turned its head and the gaze burnt him though, memories of stitches pulling at his belly. He had glared back. He knows what it's doing even if no one else does. Its mouth hinted at a smile before it turned, murmured something to Wesley, and they both moved away.
His world shakes just a little when Illyria agrees to help clear out a nest of Hopper demons. The little suckers have been threatening a shelter and when Gunn finishes his report, before Angel can even open his mouth, Illyria is asking how they're going to eliminate the problem.
"And why do you care what we do?" he asks flatly.
"Is that not how this place works?" Illyria replies, meeting his gaze with ease. "They are your people so you will protect them."
As the plans are drawn out and Illyria is carefully listening, Gunn finally risks looking at Wes. And he sees the first real emotion in days. Not a lot, just the faintest softening and warmth. It's the same look as when Faith was saying her goodbyes in the Hyperion. A simple look of pride. And Gunn begins to understand.
She does falter, naturally. A particularly savage battle drives her away from them. And Gunn is partially right, Wes does shut down; the low tones and light voice come back along with the usual cold-hearted logic. But they all keep going and, when the dust settles, there are real smiles all round despite what they've lost.
And then there is that other nasty fight. Gunn and Wes heading out to meet up with an old client only to discover it's a set-up by a newcomer wanting to redistribute the power in LA. They're a little surprised but they're pros at this by now and both instantly assure Mr Psaht that they really aren't held high enough in Angel's esteem to be deemed worthy bargaining chips.
They've just about convinced him when Angel goes and destroys the illusion by dramatically rescuing them, complete with helicopters, snipers and tear gas. And an Old One too, just for good measure. The guards around them crumple neatly as the blur passes them.
When Gunn steals a glance at Wesley he finds he's already being watched with a wry smile.
"What?"
"Who'd have thought we'd be worth all this," Wesley says lightly as the room of armed steel and lasers continues to be flattened.
A rush in the air, a breathless gasp, and then there she is, releasing them. Around her the sounds are muffled, air heavy and movements slow.
"We need to leave."
They follow her out to where Spike and Angel are waiting in limbo. Gunn's gut twists again at the expression on Angel's face as the vampire watches the main building. It's an expression not meant for people like him and Wes.
When the air snaps and time clicks back, things return to normal. Angel nods at the two of them and gruffly asks about any major injuries. Then, after a brief moment when he realises Illyria isn't going anywhere, he adds that the quick response was down to her. She heard what had happened the same time as Angel did. She came back to help.
It surprises Gunn that the silent look she gives is not just for Wesley. And when it falls on him, this time, there's no chill.
"Your people, huh?" he says darkly, not about to let her off the hook easily.
"It seems that way."
The moment they get back to the office, Illyria and Wesley have a blazing row. The kind where no voices are raised but the volume and temperature goes down and down until it feels like the ice age has returned. It ends with Wesley storming out the office, grabbing Gunn by the arm, and announcing they'll be out for lunch.
"I wish I could just give up on her," Wesley grumbles over a wilting chicken salad. "Bloody conscience."
"Bloody mindedness more like," Gunn says with a grin. And it's amazing that it's returned.
Family shattered into pieces. But not broken, just reassembling until a new form is discovered. Spike and Angel begin to be labelled Laurel and Hardy by 'the ladies' of the office. Lorne tried to call them Batman and Robin, only to quickly stop when it became clear that war might break out over which one was the Boy Wonder. He's often with them these days, usually as referee. "Now I remember why I never wanted kids," he was heard to mutter one time when the sound of conflict broke out again. He makes them smile though, never a bad thing so long as both souls are well and truly intact.
When Gunn looks up from his desk to see Illyria and Wes walk past deep in conversation, the only thing that gets him is how normal it feels. Like things are going back to simply ordinary. Except for the part where her gaze flickers to him in quiet acknowledgement before she moves on.
"You're like the Three Musketeers" Harmony says when they're standing waiting for the lift. When three blank stares turn her way she adds, "Well, if the Three Musketeers were like borderline psycho and didn't have uniforms and weren't, you know, all men."
All for one and one for all.
Gunn shrugs and decides there are worse mottos to be saddled with.
"Sorry if I just wasn't listening, but where are we going again?" Wes asks as the lift continues to drop.
Gunn has no idea, he was just following tagging along with them in the hope of an interesting life. Seems to have been happening a lot recently. Both the tagging and the life part.
"Psyche department," she says.
"Oh."
"Fine."
"Why?"
She looks at them gravely and maybe it's just the crystal hard eyes that make the air daggered.
"I think I begin to understand how your world works."
It's addressed to the both of them, he can tell. Just them. Just him and Wes.
"What used to simply not make sense now feels wrong. You're my people and so I must do this." They arrive and she stares straight ahead. “Perhaps, afterwards, you will be able to explain what I cannot.”
He and Wes have fallen behind her as she leads them through the glass doors, into a room of blue lights, clear cases and metal frames. Something is making them draw closer together. And everything is so quiet, the way the streets would echo just before a vampire attacked, waiting for the curtains to go up.
Illyria rests her hand a frosted pane, smiling faintly at the smoky metallic outlines just beyond.
“Why are we here, Illyria?” asks Wes, and now the ice is back.
And she turns her palm a little, fingers curling inwards. Strange pink fire or electricity rushing across in a thin needle between finger and thumb. Gunn knows it can’t be good because the temperature of the room drops so suddenly he almost wonders if time’s slowed again. Wesley has gone deathly still.
“Don’t.” It’s a threat rather than a plea, all quiet voiceless warning.
“Who’s Connor?”
The shock drives Gunn back. Shock and pain. Door against his back as Fred’s, not Illyria’s, Fred’s voice slices through his mind and memories. Breath gone at the pain of the betrayal. And Wes…
He’s heard her before, Gunn realises. And damn but does he understand the coldness now. Because if she’s thinking that this is something to use, to play with, he’d be ready to knock her down too, like Wes is surely about to try and do. Only…
Only Wes ain’t moving. He’s still standing as stone, blinking like someone just flashed a torch in his eyes. “Connor.”
Connor. Gunn reminds himself to breathe and as oxygen rushes back, he knows he’s heard the name before. He’s heard someone else ask after that name.
Her eyes open and this time there’s no smile, and now the voice is all her, all age and power and patience. “Afterwards,” she says quietly, opening the first cabinet, drawing out the first canister. “Afterwards, maybe you can explain.”
And, finally, sending lots of **huggles** and *snuggles* to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
momentsintime and eloise_bright. Hoping things clear up soon for both of you :)
Anyway. During lunch break and after I'd handed my one report in, my brain promptly went and died in a rather pathetic way - resulting in an utterly pointless little drabble. Still, felt nice to finally get to write a few sentences that did not require hopping over to the font toolbar so I could insert greek characters. It's unbeta-ed, un-spellchecked, and when I last looked I'm not even sure that it has a proper ending.
It contains spoilers up to 'Shells', so if you don't know which colourful creature has visited Wolfram and Hart, stay outside the cut :)
The real sucker-punch came when he realised that Fred wasn't the only loss that day. It took a while to figure out, what with staying in hospital and then resting at home on the Doctor's orders. Or maybe Angel told the Doctor to keep Gunn away from them all for a bit. Whatever. He's happy to go along with it.
Of course, the first day back was nasty. People's heads turned when they thought he had passed. Conversations stopped suddenly when he turned a corner or doubled back to pick up something forgotten. But he's no damn kid. Sticks and stones may break my bones. But screw you I've got worse things on my conscience than what you sheep think of me.
It did sting to see it still there. See that thing wearing her body like its own. Made the gut twist how they all just talked to it like they don't notice or care that it's Fred's disjointed voice asking them pointless questions.
"It's not her, Gunn," Angel says when Gunn remains silent. "Ask me, ask Spike, ask Lorne. Soul, scent, aura... There's nothing there."
"Then why the hell are you letting Wes do what he's doing?"
Angel regards him levelly for a heartbeat or so, like Gunn is expected to know the answer. When the icy silence continues he says: "He's moving on. I suggest you think long and hard about how to do the same."
That really pisses Gunn off. Being talked down to like that. He's suffered before, he's lost before. And he's still damn well standing and hell will freeze over before he lets some scraggy old demon get the better of him. He just needs some time and space first. Just slow the pace a little, give him some space, let him deal.
He doesn’t know Spike and Angel anymore. They talk to him, keep him up to speed, but there are whole conversations going on between them that none of the others will ever hear. Everyone knows that and the cracks are widening.
Lorne just won't look at him, period. If he does accidentally catch his gaze then the dulled grief briefly sparks and smoulders into simple anger. And then it's funny how the coloured ties and garish suits just lose their sparkle, just become the not so subtle reminders that it’s only personal choice keeping this guy from following his family's more bloodthirsty traditions. All in the blood they say.
He's killed them, that's the killer blow. Taken the family and shattered it like ice. Destroyed them from the inside out, removed the heart. Who would have thought that even possible after losing Cordy. Go team.
After the initial briefing in Angel's office, Wesley came to find Gunn. The conversation had been simple, short, more an announcement than anything else. In a nutshell, Wesley assured him that he, Gunn, had no fear of further attacks because quite frankly Wesley didn't think him worth the effort.
Oddly enough, it was that meeting that finally knocked Gunn back into some kind of life. Cos, hell, seeing utter detachment is one thing, seeing numbed and dull pain another. But seeing absolutely nothing, just dark emptiness looking back at you is another thing entirely. It made him finally sit up and look around and notice.
And Wesley was always with Illyria. They alternated between the books and the lab, walking together, carrying on discussions that had clearly been going on for hours. It felt wrong, downright sickening the attention that creature got. Trying to speak to Wes without that unwanted shadow was nothing short of impossible. It never left him when someone asked to have a word. More worryingly, Wesley never asked it to. Instead, Gunn was made to feel like he was the intruder, like he was the one who shouldn't be there.
"It's sucking him in," Gunn snaps back, anger rising at Angel's unreasonable calm. "Look, I messed up, I know that, but that doesn't suddenly make me totally blind. Illyria doesn't give a damn about this world. Once it's got what it wants it'll drop him and how do you think he'll take to losing Fred again?"
"Illyria's not Fred..."
Gunn almost snarls with frustration. "I know it's not Fred. But maybe you should remind Wes that."
A pause while Angel thoughtfully swallows any immediate answer. "He needs this, Gunn," he says eventually. "It's not just about Fred anymore."
And that’s that.
The days pass and eventually the offices start catching up with the rest of the world. Lorne's heard telling Harmony the 10 funniest things you just had to know about that meeting between Timberlake and MacKellen. The next day Spike and Angel spend a whole three minutes in the middle of the lobby bickering, not arguing, bickering about Spike getting an office.
Gunn watches them all with quiet envy as they reassemble and repair their lives into something liveable. One time he caught Wes and Illyria doing the same. They had stood on the walkway staring down at the moving world of Wolfram Hart. It sent a slight chill down his spine seeing them both like that. Creepy cold stares like they just saw you as a bunch of cells and nerve endings responding to stimuli. Nothing more. Then Illyria turned its head and the gaze burnt him though, memories of stitches pulling at his belly. He had glared back. He knows what it's doing even if no one else does. Its mouth hinted at a smile before it turned, murmured something to Wesley, and they both moved away.
His world shakes just a little when Illyria agrees to help clear out a nest of Hopper demons. The little suckers have been threatening a shelter and when Gunn finishes his report, before Angel can even open his mouth, Illyria is asking how they're going to eliminate the problem.
"And why do you care what we do?" he asks flatly.
"Is that not how this place works?" Illyria replies, meeting his gaze with ease. "They are your people so you will protect them."
As the plans are drawn out and Illyria is carefully listening, Gunn finally risks looking at Wes. And he sees the first real emotion in days. Not a lot, just the faintest softening and warmth. It's the same look as when Faith was saying her goodbyes in the Hyperion. A simple look of pride. And Gunn begins to understand.
She does falter, naturally. A particularly savage battle drives her away from them. And Gunn is partially right, Wes does shut down; the low tones and light voice come back along with the usual cold-hearted logic. But they all keep going and, when the dust settles, there are real smiles all round despite what they've lost.
And then there is that other nasty fight. Gunn and Wes heading out to meet up with an old client only to discover it's a set-up by a newcomer wanting to redistribute the power in LA. They're a little surprised but they're pros at this by now and both instantly assure Mr Psaht that they really aren't held high enough in Angel's esteem to be deemed worthy bargaining chips.
They've just about convinced him when Angel goes and destroys the illusion by dramatically rescuing them, complete with helicopters, snipers and tear gas. And an Old One too, just for good measure. The guards around them crumple neatly as the blur passes them.
When Gunn steals a glance at Wesley he finds he's already being watched with a wry smile.
"What?"
"Who'd have thought we'd be worth all this," Wesley says lightly as the room of armed steel and lasers continues to be flattened.
A rush in the air, a breathless gasp, and then there she is, releasing them. Around her the sounds are muffled, air heavy and movements slow.
"We need to leave."
They follow her out to where Spike and Angel are waiting in limbo. Gunn's gut twists again at the expression on Angel's face as the vampire watches the main building. It's an expression not meant for people like him and Wes.
When the air snaps and time clicks back, things return to normal. Angel nods at the two of them and gruffly asks about any major injuries. Then, after a brief moment when he realises Illyria isn't going anywhere, he adds that the quick response was down to her. She heard what had happened the same time as Angel did. She came back to help.
It surprises Gunn that the silent look she gives is not just for Wesley. And when it falls on him, this time, there's no chill.
"Your people, huh?" he says darkly, not about to let her off the hook easily.
"It seems that way."
The moment they get back to the office, Illyria and Wesley have a blazing row. The kind where no voices are raised but the volume and temperature goes down and down until it feels like the ice age has returned. It ends with Wesley storming out the office, grabbing Gunn by the arm, and announcing they'll be out for lunch.
"I wish I could just give up on her," Wesley grumbles over a wilting chicken salad. "Bloody conscience."
"Bloody mindedness more like," Gunn says with a grin. And it's amazing that it's returned.
Family shattered into pieces. But not broken, just reassembling until a new form is discovered. Spike and Angel begin to be labelled Laurel and Hardy by 'the ladies' of the office. Lorne tried to call them Batman and Robin, only to quickly stop when it became clear that war might break out over which one was the Boy Wonder. He's often with them these days, usually as referee. "Now I remember why I never wanted kids," he was heard to mutter one time when the sound of conflict broke out again. He makes them smile though, never a bad thing so long as both souls are well and truly intact.
When Gunn looks up from his desk to see Illyria and Wes walk past deep in conversation, the only thing that gets him is how normal it feels. Like things are going back to simply ordinary. Except for the part where her gaze flickers to him in quiet acknowledgement before she moves on.
"You're like the Three Musketeers" Harmony says when they're standing waiting for the lift. When three blank stares turn her way she adds, "Well, if the Three Musketeers were like borderline psycho and didn't have uniforms and weren't, you know, all men."
All for one and one for all.
Gunn shrugs and decides there are worse mottos to be saddled with.
"Sorry if I just wasn't listening, but where are we going again?" Wes asks as the lift continues to drop.
Gunn has no idea, he was just following tagging along with them in the hope of an interesting life. Seems to have been happening a lot recently. Both the tagging and the life part.
"Psyche department," she says.
"Oh."
"Fine."
"Why?"
She looks at them gravely and maybe it's just the crystal hard eyes that make the air daggered.
"I think I begin to understand how your world works."
It's addressed to the both of them, he can tell. Just them. Just him and Wes.
"What used to simply not make sense now feels wrong. You're my people and so I must do this." They arrive and she stares straight ahead. “Perhaps, afterwards, you will be able to explain what I cannot.”
He and Wes have fallen behind her as she leads them through the glass doors, into a room of blue lights, clear cases and metal frames. Something is making them draw closer together. And everything is so quiet, the way the streets would echo just before a vampire attacked, waiting for the curtains to go up.
Illyria rests her hand a frosted pane, smiling faintly at the smoky metallic outlines just beyond.
“Why are we here, Illyria?” asks Wes, and now the ice is back.
And she turns her palm a little, fingers curling inwards. Strange pink fire or electricity rushing across in a thin needle between finger and thumb. Gunn knows it can’t be good because the temperature of the room drops so suddenly he almost wonders if time’s slowed again. Wesley has gone deathly still.
“Don’t.” It’s a threat rather than a plea, all quiet voiceless warning.
“Who’s Connor?”
The shock drives Gunn back. Shock and pain. Door against his back as Fred’s, not Illyria’s, Fred’s voice slices through his mind and memories. Breath gone at the pain of the betrayal. And Wes…
He’s heard her before, Gunn realises. And damn but does he understand the coldness now. Because if she’s thinking that this is something to use, to play with, he’d be ready to knock her down too, like Wes is surely about to try and do. Only…
Only Wes ain’t moving. He’s still standing as stone, blinking like someone just flashed a torch in his eyes. “Connor.”
Connor. Gunn reminds himself to breathe and as oxygen rushes back, he knows he’s heard the name before. He’s heard someone else ask after that name.
Her eyes open and this time there’s no smile, and now the voice is all her, all age and power and patience. “Afterwards,” she says quietly, opening the first cabinet, drawing out the first canister. “Afterwards, maybe you can explain.”
And, finally, sending lots of **huggles** and *snuggles* to
momentsintime and eloise_bright. Hoping things clear up soon for both of you :)
no subject
Date: 2004-03-28 02:10 pm (UTC)I can honestly say that I have no idea, but if I did I'm sure I would
sell the story for the right pricetake their secrets to the grave ;)I don't know why I picked those two, apart from the fact they're both famous and I adore MacKellen so if I can slip any mention of him in I will!
Thank you. 'A nice sense of humour' is a nice way of putting it. My friends just tend to look at me for a few seconds before going: You're strange...