Man of the World
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Ats S5, Origin, then back to Ats S3, Loyalty.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but if I did, they'd be a lot happier and I wouldn't have to take out student loans.
Archive: If you already have my stuff. If not, just ask, and I'll be happy to share.
Summary: Fred's death and the return of his memories leave Wesley a desperate man. He makes a dangerous bid to make things right, only to find that he's a stranger in a world that's no longer familiar to him.
"I want to be a man of
the world, blood in my veins and a hurt in my heart, hide in the street with
the noise and the dirt, and the one still looking for a brand new start. Oh,
I've been sleeping far too long, hiding out in a palace of gold. Show me one
thing before I'm gone that can't be bought and can't be sold. Show me how to
come alive, show me how to make you mine. 'Cause if
you'd only be my girl, I could be a man of the world." ~Marc Cohn, "Man of the
World"
Chapter 12
“I have memories—but only a fool stores his past in the future.” ~David Gerrold
“Do you want to come in?” Wesley asked, his hand on the door.
Tuff grimaced. “Want? Yes, but I’ve got work in the morning, so I’d better not.” She leaned over to him, pleased when he met her halfway for a kiss. “Soon, though. You’ll call me?”
“Tomorrow,” Wesley promised. “I don’t know how busy I’ll be this week. Things tend to come up with no warning, but I think we’ll manage.”
“I love my present,” Tuff said. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
She watched him get out of the truck with a regretful sigh. There was nothing she would have liked more than to go in with him and spend the night, but she had an early morning ahead, and a full day at work. If she’d had a change of clothing with her, it would have been a different story.
Tuff pulled away from the curb and was halfway down the block when she spotted something suspicious in her rearview mirror. Applying the brake, she slowed down, seeing activity near Wesley’s building. She frowned, watching as someone was thrust into the light of a streetlamp, and then quickly moved back into the shadows.
Making a quick decision, Tuff turned right at the next corner, planning to circle the block. If there was more suspicious movement, she’d stop and make sure that Wesley had made it into his apartment okay. She would have to make up some excuse for why she was knocking on his door right after saying goodnight, but she was good at that. Tuff would rather look like a ditz than ignore her gut instinct and risk something bad happening.
She pulled up to the curb again, quickly rummaging in her glove compartment for her mace. Her father had given her self-defense lessons for her eighteenth birthday, and she was generally pretty good at taking care of herself.
Tuff just hoped that she wasn’t getting in over her head on this one.
She slammed the door of the truck hard, hoping that if there was an attack going on, the sound would scare them off.
And that no one had a gun.
Tuff strode towards the entrance, her heart tripping wildly, clutching her mace and praying that she wasn’t doing something amazingly stupid. This was one of those times when her impulsive tendencies could get her into some deep trouble.
Her footsteps seemed to echo off the pavement, and she watched as three figures detached themselves from the shadows, one shrouded in something. For one, endless moment, Tuff was sure they were going to come towards her, but instead all three men ran across the street, dodging the scant traffic, heading for a black van she hadn’t noticed until just then.
Tuff swallowed hard, continuing towards the building. She could just make out a slumped form, and she half-ran the last few steps. “Are you okay?” she called, not immediately recognizing who it was.
It only took a second to figure out that it was Wesley, and then Tuff fumbled clumsily for a pulse, her heart racing once again. “Come on, Wesley,” she muttered. Breathing a sigh of relief when she found it, strong and steady, under her fingertips, she began checking him over for injuries.
Judging from the lump on his forehead and the thin trickle of blood from the cut, someone had knocked him a good one. Tuff reached for her cell phone, beginning to dial 911 when she heard him moan.
After a moment’s hesitation, she put her phone away without completing the call. “Wesley?” Tuff had a feeling that if he had to go to the hospital, he’d probably rather not have the ambulance ride.
“Tuff?” Her voice seemed to bring him around slightly. “What—Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said, her tone sharp with relief. “You’re the one who has the head wound.”
“The others—”
“Ran off when I approached.” He opened his mouth to say something, but Tuff cut him off; she could make a good guess as to what was going to come out of his mouth next. “I know it was stupid, but I was worried. We should get you to the hospital.”
“No hospitals,” Wesley insisted. “I’ll be fine.”
She frowned. “They hit you over the head, Wesley. You should probably have x-rays.”
“I’ve had a concussion before,” Wesley said. “This doesn’t feel like one.”
Tuff helped him up, steadying him when he began to sway alarmingly. She knew she probably should insist that he go to the hospital, but he sounded lucid, and Tuff knew the signs of a concussion as well. “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “But I’m staying with you tonight to make sure they didn’t do any damage to your head.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Wesley said.
“Don’t argue with me,” Tuff snapped. “I just chased off three guys who were trying to kill you.”
“They weren’t—” he stopped. “Let’s get inside.”
Tuff felt him leaning on her, and that alone told her that he was probably hurt worse than he was letting on. She’d get him inside, and if she thought it necessary, she would call the ambulance, whether Wesley Wyndam-Pryce wanted her to or not.
Once inside his apartment, Tuff helped him over to the couch, sitting him down. “Hold still,” she ordered, turning his head so she could see the bump. “It doesn’t look too bad.”
“It’s not,” he assured her. “Trust me, Tuff. I do not need a doctor. If you could get me some aspirin, though…”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure. Where is it?”
“Kitchen cabinet, next to the fridge,” Wesley replied. “Glasses are above the sink.”
Tuff quickly found the bottle of aspirin and filled a glass of water. Once he’d downed a couple of tablets, she sat down next to him on the couch. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
“I can’t.” His tone was so regretful that Tuff could forgive him. “I’m sorry, love.”
“Business?”
“Yes.” Wesley rolled his head to look at her. “I’m afraid we’ve made a number of enemies over the years.”
“That’s what you get for being the good guy, huh?”
“You’re probably wondering what you’re doing with me.”
Tuff blinked. “Um, no. Where did that come from?” At the expression on his face, she glared at him. “You are not breaking up with me.”
“No, but I thought—”
“Don’t think, then, if that’s where it takes you,” Tuff replied. “I met you in the hospital, Wesley. I saw you, remember? I knew what you did was dangerous, so don’t give me that.” She sighed. “Did somebody else dump you because of this kind of thing?”
He shrugged. “She had good reason.”
Tuff snorted. She had yet to find a good reason to dump Wesley. “I’m sure she did.” She didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice. Adrenaline always tended to make her a little bitchy.
“I should probably call Angel,” Wesley said. “He’ll want to know what happened.”
“You make that call,” Tuff said. “Do you want anything?”
“Tea would be nice,” Wesley said. “I don’t have any of the bags, though, so you’ll have to—”
Tuff cut him off with a kiss. “I know how to make a pot of tea, Wesley. I have many talents you haven’t seen yet.” She walked into the kitchen, wanting to give him a little privacy to make his call, even if the apartment wasn’t that big.
She gripped the counter, taking a deep breath. Tuff really wanted to be angry at Wesley for getting hurt in the first place, and for not telling her exactly who and what seemed to be after him. It was irrational, however, and she’d known from the beginning what she was getting into by allowing herself to fall for a guy like Wesley.
It was one of the problems with being impulsive. There were always consequences.
~~~~~
Angel and Gunn strode back into the hotel after dealing with one of Cordelia’s visions arguing amiably over who had actually made the kill. “It was the ax,” Gunn said. “Nothing survives an ax to the head. You don’t know where that thing’s heart was, so you can’t say you got it in the heart.”
“You don’t know how thick that thing’s skull was,” Angel said. “Besides, I got it with the sword first, and it was going down. The ax was overkill.”
“The ax was—”
“Guys!” Cordelia interrupted their argument. “Angel, Wesley called. You need to go over to his place now. He got jumped by some of the goons from Wolfram and Hart when he got home.”
Gunn frowned. “They hurt him?”
“Just a bump on the head,” Cordelia said. “I think Tuff might have been with him, though, so he couldn’t give me the whole story.”
Angel handed his sword to Gunn. “I’ll head over and give you guys a call if we need to move on this tonight.”
“Be careful,” Cordy called as he left.
It didn’t take Angel long to reach Wesley’s place; he was a little surprised when a woman answered the door, having forgotten that Cordy had said that Wesley’s new girlfriend was with him. “Hi. You must be Angel.”
He blinked. “Hi. You’re Tuff, right?”
“Yeah, come on in. I wouldn’t let him get up,” she said. “Every time he tries, he falls over, but he still refuses to go to the hospital.”
“There’s nothing they can tell me other than take two aspirin and call them in the morning,” Wesley said, sounding a little exasperated.
Angel sat down next to Wesley on the couch. “You want to tell me what happened?”
Wesley hesitated, and Tuff announced, “You know, I think I’m going to make another pot of tea. Angel?”
“Sure,” he said, watching her withdraw into the small kitchen area. She was just far enough away that she probably wouldn’t be able to make out their words if they kept their voices down. “So?”
“Wolfram and Hart,” Wesley confirmed, his tone low.
Angel frowned. “What did they want?”
Wesley hesitated. “They sent a psychic this time, a demon. They weren’t just trying for a surface reading; they wanted answers.”
Angel’s eyes widened. “That’s why you don’t want to go to the hospital.”
“It’s not the head wound that’s making me dizzy,” Wesley agreed. His eyes darkened, and Angel caught a glimpse of raw fury behind his calm mask. It was a side of Wesley he hadn’t glimpsed often. “They dug deep, Angel.”
Angel gripped his shoulder in a gesture of wordless comfort. “We’ll figure out how to stop them. What do you think they got from you?”
“I haven’t any idea,” he replied. “They might have gotten everything or nothing at all. I’m honestly not sure what they could do with the information, even if they had all of it,” Wesley said. “The future is just as grim for them as it is for us.”
“That’s some good news,” Angel joked. “You going to be okay?”
“I think so,” Wesley said. “I feel like a bit of an idiot for letting them get the jump on me like that.”
“Don’t,” Angel said. “It happens to the best of us.”
“Do you guys want tea, or should I find something else to do in the kitchen?” Tuff called.
Angel tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “Tea would be great,” he said, looking at Wesley.
The other man sighed. “We’re done talking business now, Tuff.”
She came in, smiling sweetly. “Good, because Wesley should probably try getting some sleep.”
“I didn’t think you were going to let me sleep for fear of concussion,” Wesley said.
Tuff set the tea tray on the coffee table and perched on the arm of the couch next to him. “I think you’re safe. You’re too hard-headed to be in much danger.”
Angel snickered. “Looks like she’s got your number, Wes.”
“Look who’s talking,” Wesley shot back.
Tuff leaned against the couch. “So Wesley’s always this stubborn?”
“Only when he thinks he’s right,” Angel said. “Which is pretty much all the time.”
Wesley looked highly affronted. “Excuse me? I believe you’re talking about yourself.”
Tuff laughed. “You just had a baby, right?” she asked, deciding to take pity on Wesley and change the subject.
Angel immediately brightened. “I did.”
“Do you have any pictures?”
He reached for his wallet. “Yeah, I do. Do you want to see?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Tuff responded. Wesley moved so she could sit next to Angel in order to properly exclaim over Connor’s handsomeness.
“I should go,” Angel said after he’d shown her the pictures and he’d talked about Connor’s growth and progress. “You’ll call tomorrow, Wes?”
“I’ll be in tomorrow,” Wesley corrected him.
“Take your time,” Angel replied. “It was nice to meet you, Tuff.”
“Same here. Though next time we should probably try for better circumstances.”
She closed the door behind him, and Angel grinned. It seemed as though Wesley was in very capable hands.
~~~~~
Amazingly enough, Tuff didn’t hover, nor did she push too hard for an explanation as to what exactly had happened. She seemed to take it for granted that if Angel wasn’t going to insist that he go to the hospital, Wesley was probably going to be okay.
Tuff woke him shortly before dawn to make sure he was fine, and let him know she was leaving. “Call me when you get up, okay?”
“Alright,” Wesley agreed, rousing himself enough for a goodbye kiss and then promptly went back to sleep. He might have slept all day, but the ringing of the phone woke him, and he groped for it without opening his eyes. “’lo?”
“Wesley?” Cordelia’s voice was concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replied with a sigh. “I was just sleeping.”
“Sorry,” she quickly apologized. “It’s just that you’re usually one of the first ones here, so when you didn’t show up by lunchtime, we started to get worried.”
Wesley propped himself up, blinking at the clock to make the
numbers clear. It was nearly
“There’s no hurry,” she assured him. “We just wanted to be sure you were okay.”
Wesley could faintly hear Angel’s voice in the background. “I told her you would be sleeping.”
“Ignore him,” Cordelia said. “He was worried, too. We’ll see you whenever you get here.”
Wesley chuckled; then, remembering his promise, he dialed Tuff’s number. “Are you finally awake, or did you just forget to call?” she asked immediately.
“I just woke up,” he assured her. “Cordelia called and woke me, otherwise I might still be sleeping.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“I think so,” he replied. “I haven’t tried getting out of bed yet.”
Wesley could hear the smile in Tuff’s voice. “Maybe you should stay in bed,” she suggested. “I could come join you there. I could probably manage to get off a little early today.”
“I should probably at least make an appearance,” Wesley said. “And I have a few things to get done today.”
“Don’t overdo it,” she ordered him.
“I won’t,” Wesley promised. “I’ll call you later. Perhaps you could join me in bed tonight.”
“It’s a date,” Tuff said. “I’ll see you later.”
Wesley snapped his phone shut and leaned back on his pillows. He’d slept better last night than he had in ages, which surprised him. What he hadn’t been able to tell Angel with Tuff there was that the reading the demon had performed on him had hurt. It had felt as though something cold and hard had gripped his mind—and then it was gone, just as quickly.
It also infuriated him that someone would invade his privacy like that; it was a violation of the worst kind.
Wesley hadn’t thought he’d be able to sleep after that, but there had been something about having Tuff next to him, her arm across his middle and her head on his shoulder, that had been soothing.
He swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over his face. She was getting involved in every area of his life at this point; it was a little frightening.
It was always a little scary when you discovered that you needed someone.
~~~~~
Lilah glared at the team she’d sent after Wesley. “What do you mean, you couldn’t get a good read on him?”
The demon chattered something unintelligible, and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for one of the humans to translate. “He said there was something blocking his ability to get any more than the present thoughts. There was no way to reach the man’s memories.” The demon said something else, and the translator continued, “He said he got burned.”
“What does that mean?” Lilah demanded. “Burned?”
“Psychically burned,” the other operative said. “It typically means that the target is somehow shielded against a reading. Our friend here couldn’t get past that barrier, and when he tried, it literally ejected him from the man’s mind.”
“Is there any other way to get the information we want?” Lilah asked.
The demon chattered away again, and the first man—whose name Lilah didn’t know or care about—said, “I think you might have another problem, actually. He says that something’s put its mark on the guy. He’s being protected somehow.”
Lilah leaned back in her chair. “Alright. If I have something else for you, I’ll let you know.” This was something new; Wesley had protection, which meant that he was a player. Was it possible he had been the one to do something about Holtz? Psychic protection was top-notch stuff, and it typically required the kind of bargain that Wolfram & Hart employees made when they reached the upper ranks. It would take at least that much to fend off a Labo demon’s probe.
It wasn’t the information that she’d been hoping for, but it was something. Not to mention the fact that Ms. Myers had been with him. Perhaps they were closer than Lilah had previously believed, which meant that Wesley’s girlfriend might have the information they needed.
She looked down at the slim file, which held everything her team had been able to get from Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. She opened the folder and re-read the memo, which consisted of only three lines. “You will be our tool. Preserve the balance. You must lose everything to save anything.”
“Typical psychic gibberish,” Lilah muttered, thrusting it to one side before picking up the phone. “Hello? Yes, I need a tail put on someone…Tiffany Myers. Thank you.”
Satisfied, she put the phone down. One way or another, Lilah Morgan would have her answers.