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 20

"Whoso loves, believes the impossible." ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"Wesley! Get out here! You have to see this!"

He scrambled out from behind his desk, wondering what the bloody hell Angel was going on about now. He'd been right in the middle of a very tricky sentence, trying to figure out the correct tense for the key verb, and he didn't appreciate having his concentration interrupted.

Wesley forgot all about his annoyance when he saw the reason for Angel's shouting, however.

Connor was standing next to the lobby couch, one pudgy fist hanging onto the fabric, a look of great concentration on his face. "Come on, son," Angel encouraged. "That's right. You can do it."

Wesley knew he had a foolish grin on his face as he watched Connor let go of the couch, taking one shaky step, then two, before falling down on his rear end. The little boy looked anxiously between Wesley and Angel, as though to see if he should be hurt, but grinned when he saw their expressions. Connor gave a squeal of delight when Angel swept him up into the air.

"Did you see that?" Angel crowed. "He walked! He took his first steps! Who's the big boy?" he cooed to Connor, cuddling him to his chest.

Connor wriggled to be let down, eager to try his new talent again. Angel complied, watching in rapt fascination as the boy hauled himself up using the couch once again. "Look at that!" he said, laughing. "And the pediatrician said it was too early!"

Wesley couldn't reply, struggling against the lump in his throat. It still hit him sometimes—the difference that had been made. Angel was watching his son take his first steps; all was as it should be.

"Wes? You okay?"

Angel's voice sounded concerned, and Wesley nodded, not wanting to interrupt his friend's joyous moment. "Of course," he replied, clearing his throat. "It's just remarkable, really. Although I suppose we shouldn't be surprised at Connor's prowess, considering who his father is."

Angel beamed. "Yeah, he's a prodigy, alright." His face softened. "Thanks, Wes. We wouldn't be here without you."

Wesley was spared from having to reply by Cordelia's sweeping entrance into the hotel. "You know, demons are better mannered than the women at Bloomie's today. It's like the word 'clearance' sends people into a frenzy." She dropped her bags and picked Connor up in response to his raised arms and insistent squeals.

"Good thing we were up to the challenge," Tuff added. "Cordy has a very powerful elbow."

Cordelia smiled magnanimously. "All for the greater good. Those jeans were made for you."

Fred set her own bags down on the counter. "I think I prefer dealing with demons," she commented. "At least you can use a crossbow on them. Where's Charles?"

"Out running errands," Wesley replied. "He said something about picking up a few things."

Fred glanced at Cordelia. "I'd better give him a call. I need him to pick up something for me. Something important," she stressed, using the tone of voice that all women reserve for delicate issues—and that all men recognize immediately.

"Why don't you use the phone in the office, then?" Wesley suggested. "You'll have more privacy."

"So what had you two grinning like idiots?" Cordelia asked.

Angel beamed. "Connor took his first steps!"

Cordelia glanced at Wesley to get confirmation; when he nodded, she got a disappointed expression on her face. "Darn. I can't believe I missed it."

"I think he's getting the hang of it now," Wesley said. "I'm sure you can get him to do it again."

Connor, however, wanted Cordelia to hold him more than he wanted to try for a repeat performance; when she tried to put him down, he clung to her neck insistently. She sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait until next time."

Tuff smiled. "My brother's son was like that. He'd only walk for his mom because he wanted Tony to hold him when he was home."

"Why don't you bring out the camera?" Wesley suggested. The little boy loved to pose for the camera, possibly because it put him squarely at the center of attention.

"Great idea, Wes," Cordy said, heading behind the lobby desk, where they kept the camera.

"We'd better get going," Tuff said. "I want to get this stuff put away." She looked over at Wesley. "Are you coming?"

He hesitated, looking back at his office and thinking of the translation he'd been working on before the interruption. "I should really finish—"

"Does it have to be done today?" Tuff asked, knowing exactly which questions to ask at this point.

"No," Wesley admitted, conceding defeat.

She smiled smugly. "That's what I thought. See you guys later," she called cheerfully, handing her bags to Wesley before heading out to his car. "We're still on for dinner with my parents tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," he replied. "Although I don't want them to feel obligated. It's really no big deal."

"Wesley, it's your birthday," Tuff said, rolling her eyes. They'd been having this same conversation for the last couple of weeks. "It's a big deal, especially since your parents aren't around. Besides, they like you."

"I like them," he replied. Wesley still wasn't quite used to the concept of enjoyable dinners with parental figures. Tuff generally had Sunday dinner with her parents at least once a month, and often met them for a meal or drinks in between. Wesley was a frequent addition at this point, but it still seemed odd that they would want to celebrate his birthday, particularly when he knew he'd be lucky to get a card or a phone call from his own parents.

Of course, Tuff had what Fred did—normal parents who cared about their children and their children's friends.

David and Helen didn't know anything about his real work; shortly after Wesley had told Tuff everything, they had discussed what, if anything, to tell her parents. She'd been uncomfortable lying to them, even by omission, and Wesley had left it up to her. "They're your parents," he'd said. "You have to decide how much you want them to know."

In the end, she'd told them nothing, explaining to Wesley, "Dad might know. He's worked in trauma for years, so I'm sure he's seen some pretty strange things, but he's never said anything. It just doesn't seem like a good idea. I'm still not always comfortable knowing."

Tuff didn't ask many questions about his work. In many ways, they had gone back to the way things had been before she'd known the truth about the 'monsters under the bed,' as she put it. Wesley wasn't trying to hide anything, however, and there were occasions when she brought it up, but most of the time they ignored it.

He asked her about that once, and she'd replied, "I think about you going out night after night, fighting the monsters, and I'm both proud of you and scared to death. Sometimes it's easier not thinking about it."

There were days when Wesley wondered how long this relationship could possibly last. He had a terrible track record where it concerned romantic relationships, and Tuff—while certainly not perfect—was a very good person to have in your corner. They were nearing the six-month mark, and she showed no signs of wanting to leave.

In fact, she seemed interested in sticking around for a very long time to come.

"Cordelia asked if I wanted her apartment today," Tuff said out of the blue. "She's been having trouble finding a good roommate for Dennis."

"Are you going to take her up on it?" Wesley asked.

Tuff shrugged. "I don't know. I like Dennis a lot, but having my parents over could be a little strange. Besides, I'm not sure that I want to move, even though it's a beautiful place. I can't see myself staying there forever."

"I thought Cordelia had talked to Gunn and Fred about taking over her apartment."

Tuff suddenly giggled. "She did, and Fred is okay with it, but Gunn finds the idea of a ghost around a little disconcerting. Especially since he and Fred would be sharing a bedroom."

Wesley chuckled. "I didn't think Dennis minded when Cordelia has guests over."

"He doesn't," Tuff replied. "Gunn just has issues."

"And you don't?"

She shrugged. "Well, it's not like I would know whether or not he was 'watching,' and I'm sure if I asked nicely he'd give me my privacy." Tuff hesitated. "It's just—I don't want kids for a while, but maybe someday, you know? And then that place would definitely be too small, and we'd have to leave Dennis again. I would feel bad."

Wesley made a noncommittal sound, not knowing exactly how to reply to that. It was too early to be talking about making their relationship permanent, but Tuff had used "we" a number of times in reference to the future, obviously assuming that he would be a part of her life for a long time to come.

Not that he had any problems with that at all.

"Did you see that article in the paper yesterday?" Tuff asked, changing the subject as he pulled up in front of her apartment building.

Wesley frowned. "I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific than that."

"About that woman?" Tuff was still holding a grudge; she was very good at it.

"Lilah Morgan?" Wesley clarified. "No, I didn't."

"She got promoted!" Tuff sounded outraged. "Something about the death of one of the presidents or partners, or whatever. I can never keep corporate structures straight. She had her picture in the paper."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, wondering if Lilah had decapitated Linwood this time around as well. He wouldn't be surprised if she had; she'd always had quite a bit of ambition. He and Tuff were lucky that the Powers had decided to channel those energies in a different direction, rather than allowing her to continue in her pursuit of what was in his head; they had been rather clear, however, on their desire not to let that information get into the wrong hands.

He'd noticed over the past months that everyone seemed to be getting fuzzy on the details of what he'd prevented from occurring. They still remembered that he'd been in the future, and that he had risked his life to fix things, but that was about it.

In fact, Wesley found that his own memories seemed less real these days; it was as though he found himself remembering a book he'd once read, or a movie he'd once seen. It was only on days like today, seeing Connor take his first steps, that the reality of it all hit him with renewed impact.

Days like today, Wesley was immeasurably grateful for the second chance he'd been given.

"I'm sure she'll get what's coming to her," Wesley finally said, remembering the contract that bound her to Wolfram & Hart even after death. Maybe he had been willing to sell his soul, but Lilah had actually done it.

Tuff sniffed. "That's what people always say. I'd really prefer it if she got what's coming to her now."

"Vengeful, aren't we?" Wesley asked, opening her door for her and allowing her to precede him into the apartment.

"Have you forgotten that she tried to kill you?" Tuff asked.

"Hardly." Wesley sat down on her couch. "Do you need any help?"

She smiled at him. "No, you just sit and relax; I'm going to get into my comfy clothes, and then I'll start dinner. You hungry?"

"Starving," he replied, having forgotten to eat lunch in the midst of his research.

"That's what I thought." Tuff pressed a brief kiss to his lips. "Call it a slightly early birthday dinner."

Wesley did as he was told, lying back on the couch and closing his eyes, hearing the sounds of Tuff rustling around her bedroom. He found himself drifting off to sounds of her humming, more content than he'd been for years.

~~~~~

"Is he going to pick it up?" Cordelia asked.

Fred nodded. "Gunn said it was on his way, so he could get it."

Cordelia started pulling party decorations out of one of her bags, prominently labeled "Bloomingdale's." "It's a good thing Wesley isn't nosy enough to want to see what we bought."

"Well, we did go shopping, and Tuff did find a new pair of jeans," Fred pointed out. "And the crazy shoppers were out in full force."

"True," Cordelia replied. "Still, if it had been Angel, he would have wanted to see everything."

"But I knew what was really in the bags," Angel pointed out, entering the office with Connor tucked under one arm.

Cordelia gave him a smug smile. "Well, I did pick a little something up for you, but it'll have to wait until later." She gave the little boy a significant look. "Much later."

From the expression on Angel's face, it was clear that he didn't particularly care for the thought of waiting. "When are we supposed to call?"

"Tuff said to wait until they've eaten first," Fred replied. "So around seven. No later than that, though; otherwise, Wesley's going to wonder why dessert's taking so long."

"Hey! I got the cake!" Gunn's voice filtered through the lobby of the hotel.

"Connor took his first steps today," Angel announced as he came out of the office.

"And you couldn't have gotten it on camera," Cordelia said, still miffed that she'd missed it.

Gunn ignored Cordy's complaint. "Yeah? That's great! That's gotta be a new record, right? Nine months?"

"The pediatrician said it was early, but not that early," Cordelia said. Seeing the look on Angel's face, she added hastily, "Of course, that doesn't mean he isn't a prodigy."

Fred leaned over the cake, grimacing in dismay. "That's not right. They spelled 'Wesley' wrong."

"How did they spell it?" Cordelia asked, coming over to look herself.

The cake was simple—white frosting and blue lettering—but sure enough, they'd left out the second "e." "Just scrape off the last two letters," Angel suggested.

Cordelia scowled down at the less-than-perfect cake. "Then he'll know something was wrong with it."

"It's not a bad idea," Gunn said. "Wes isn't going to care if the cake isn't perfect, not when he sees the sword Angel got him."

"Maybe if we're real careful," Fred added. "Mom had to do that for me one year when they spelled somethin' wrong. It wasn't that bad."

"Let's see if we can get it fixed," Cordelia said, taking the cake back towards the kitchen with Fred following.

"I want to see the new trick," Gunn said. He knelt on the floor when Angel set Connor down, hanging on to the boy's hands. "Come on, Connor," he encouraged. "Come see Uncle Gunn."

Connor took one shaky step, then two, before wavering heavily. Gunn scooped him up before he could fall, laughing. "Better watch out, Angel. Once he gets going, he's going to be impossible to keep up with. My cousin's kid was walking within a week of taking her first step, and she was climbing before too long. Nearly gave my cousin a heart attack when she figured out how to get on top of the fridge."

Angel swallowed. "The fridge?"

~~~~~

Wesley had absolutely no desire to answer the phone when it rang; a nice dinner and a couple of glasses of wine had him tremendously relaxed. Of course, being with Tuff usually had that effect on him, as well.

"Go ahead and answer it," Tuff said, amused. "You know they'll just keep calling if you don't."

He sighed and reached for his cell phone. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Wes, but it's an emergency," Fred's voice said apologetically. "Cordy had a vision, and we need you."

"I'll be there shortly." Wesley looked at Tuff with regret. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but—"

"Say no more," she replied. "Evil doesn't rest, even for your birthday. Do you want me to come with you? I don't mind staying with Connor, in case Angel needs a babysitter."

"That's probably not a bad idea," he acknowledged. "If you don't mind."

Tuff shrugged. "Like I've said before, I like kids. With any luck, this won't take long and we can pick up where we left off."

"With the dishes?" Wesley teased.

She snorted. "If that's how you really want to spend your evening..."

"The dishes can wait."

The hotel was dark when they arrived, and Wesley felt a flash of fear. What if something had happened? What if something had come to the Hyperion? He hadn't been fast enough—he had failed once again, and—

"Surprise!"

The sudden flare of lights and sound caused Wesley to nearly jump out of his skin and make an aborted attempt to reach for a weapon. Thankfully, he realized what was going on before anyone noticed, and swallowed hard before asking, "What's this?"

"It's a surprise birthday party," Cordelia said, in a tone that plainly said she thought he was being stupid. "I think we managed the surprise part."

Wesley couldn't help the pleased grin that formed when he saw the streamers and the cake; although he might have preferred it to be a little less of a surprise, he couldn't help but appreciate the effort everyone had gone to. He glanced over at Tuff. "Your doing, I presume?"

"I had help," was all she would say. "Now you know why I didn't make dessert tonight."

Wesley was still reeling a couple of hours later, after the cake had been consumed and presents opened. It was Connor's first run-in with birthday cake, and he'd managed to smear quite a bit over himself, so Angel had taken him upstairs to get cleaned up. Wesley was listening in on the others' conversation, smiling as Fred regaled Tuff with the story of her parents' first trip to L.A.

"I have to say, you're looking a lot happier," Lorne said, coming over to stand next to Wesley.

Wesley's eyes were fixed on Tuff, who was listening with wide eyes as Fred told her about splitting open the demon's head to release the bug demons' young. "I have good reason to be happy."

"What happened to being 'just friends?'" Lorne asked with a smile.

Wesley raised an eyebrow, turning to look at the demon. "She changed my mind."

"You did good, you know," Lorne said.

Wesley followed the direction of his gaze and saw Angel coming down the stairs with a cleaned-up Connor. "I suppose I did."

His eyes widened in alarm as he heard Cordelia say, "Has Wesley ever told you about how we ran into him in L.A. that first time?"

"We really should be going," he announced. "I'm sure Tuff doesn't want to hear about that."

Tuff raised her eyebrows, easily picking up on the panicked note in Wesley's voice. "I think we have time for one more story."

Wesley's eyes narrowed, deciding it might be time to pull out the big guns. "Yes, well, if we have time for that story, then I think we might have time for the story about Cordelia's run-in with a Brangler demon."

Cordelia knew exactly what Wesley was talking about, and plastered a big grin on her face. "You know, you two should get going. The night's still young, and I'm sure you have plans."

Wesley gave her a smug grin. "Actually, we do. Good night, everyone."

"We still on for Monday night, Wes?" Gunn asked.

"Absolutely," Wesley replied. "I have every intention of kicking your arse."

"You keep dreamin'," Gunn replied.

The others called out their good nights, and they wandered out into the night air. "What was that about?" Tuff asked.

Wesley flushed slightly. "We're having a game of Risk."

Tuff decided that it would be mean to laugh at him on his birthday and stifled her snickers. "You two are just like kids, you know that?"

His expression softened. "Yes, well, it's been good to have our friendship back."

Tuff leaned into his side. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes, thank you." Wesley leaned down to kiss her. "I think I know who's responsible for that."

"You deserved it." Tuff leaned against Wesley's SUV, not caring that she was probably getting her new jeans dirty—not when she was kissing him. "So can I ask you a question?" she asked when the kiss broke off momentarily.

"Ask away," he murmured, nibbling at her ear, thinking that they probably ought to get going. Or perhaps they should go parking again; Tuff had insisted on it a few weeks ago when she'd discovered that he'd never done it.

It was an experience Wesley wouldn't mind repeating.

"Are you happy to be alive?"

Wesley pulled back, searching her face for a long moment; it wasn't something he'd thought about, but maybe that was answer enough. "Yes," he finally answered. "Very much so." At the unspoken question in her eyes, he added, "Thanks to you."

It was amazing what a second chance could do for a person.