paradisalost | ...After the Other

Libet.

The word still hung in the air, and clung stubbornly to her thoughts. Even though Fred was fairly certain of the outcome, that knowledge didn't prevent her from pouring through the books of the library trying to find any reference at all.

Fred was finally feeling more like herself several showers and multiple changes of clothes later. What they picked up on that trip -- it would take a while to be rid of. If they ever were. She was finding it difficult to view the castle walls with as accepting an eye as before.

Elektra comes over for a visit as soon as she's sure Fred is back. She can care less about whatever has been found for the time being. She just wants to be sure her friend is alright. "Fred," Elektra calls out before she sees her. The last thing she wants to do is spook her by sneaking around. Despite herself Elektra always walked around too quietly. "Are you around?" Silly question but, at least she would be harder to miss.

Every noise is a bit louder, every reaction that much stronger. It's a direct result from the past week, yes But it's also more than that. It is also the instincts Elektra herself has been helping Fred reconnect with. Ones she leveraged more than once in the course of the past week.

From her lab, she hears Elektra calling.

"I'm up here. Trying to sort these samples out."

If Elektra knew she was putting those skills to good use she would be proud. "I'll be there in a minute." For the moment though she's walking a little too eagerly to the lab. Elektra believes in her completely. There would be always be a voice in the back of her head reminding Elektra what happened more often than not to the people she cared for. It put her on edge enough to doubt herself.

When Elektra enters the lab and sees Fred it's silenced for the time being. She feels alright again. "How did it go? Everyone has been quiet."

A smile flickers before cementing itself fully at the sight of Elektra coming through the door of the lab. She's clearly pleased by her friend's arrival.

The evening spent at Wesley's townhouse had done her more good than Fred even accounted for when she first showed up on his door. She's always appreciated the luxury of being clean, but the expedition had served as just another reminder of how much dirt and grime a body could carry.

It's all washed away now, her hair washed and loosely piled on her head. A fresh bandage is now wrapped around her left arm.

"That was fast..."

Elektra smiles in return. Normally she would be embarrassed to have that pointed out. She doesn't really care right now. It was just nice to see her alright. The bandage did not count even if she was mildly curious how that became necessary.

"I really wanted to know how things turned out." She adjusts her bag out of habit. "So? How did it go?"

Fred tilts on her stool to better face Elektra. Her mind works backwards over everything that happened.

"I just ended up with more questions that before. It was a bit -- well, it was a lot there for a while."

Elektra sighs. Somehow she is not surprised. She always found the expeditions pointless busy work at best and deadly at worst. That is the last thing she will ever voice to Fred though.

"Sorry it turned out that way. I was really hoping it'd be different for your sake."

There's still the samples, of course. Something, somewhere in them that might prove useful over time. All they've yielded to this point is a headache.

"...I'm not even sure what I was expecting. It's bad enough I nearly had a go of it with Wesley, insisting that he wasn't we'll enough to travel yet."

Elektra shifts her weight. "Maybe what they all expect." Answers to what exactly they have been dragged into. She doubts they will ever know so moves onto something that she can find out about.

"How is he anyways?"

"Wesley?"

Fred's gaze flickers slightly. She hadn't liked leaving him behind any more than he'd liked being left -- but after seeing what the expedition entailed? She knows she made the right decision.

"Just about healed up, I think. His head still bothers him some, I think. He just tries to hide it."

Elektra frowns at that. "Why not visit a healer then?" She would have gone there from the start. If there is one thing Elektra hates it is any sign of weakness within herself being visible to others.

"I can think of one reliable one who accepts liquor as payment." A beat. "Unless he doesn't trust it?" She might not have if it were not for the fact Stick had fixed her more than once through mysterious means.

Fred considers that, not exactly certain of the answer to Elektra's question. At least not initially. Her brow knits slightly.

"I think...I think it might be a matter of not indebted ourselves to this place any more than we already are."

Busy thoughts inevitably lead to busy feet, and despite her lingering exhaustion Fred set out for a walk along the castle grounds.

[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.]

[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]

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?"

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.

Wesley releases her, and air rushes in between them both. It's only then that Fred actually spares a glance for her arm.

"It's fine," she attempts to assure him, something clearly dismissive in her tone. "Or as fine as it needs to be. There was a train. We didn't get along all that well."

There is something still distracted in her voice. It's not just the injury Fred doesn't have time for, it is the idea of it as a whole. Not with everything else that happened. Only then does Fred untangle herself from her pack, placing it carefully on the ground. She blinks, something clearing in her vision as she clearly makes a decision.

On that prompts her to close the distance between them with an effectiveness born from a full week of not wasting time. Fred leans in claim a kiss that is brief and carefully crafted to not subject Wesley to the lingering parts of the expedition that still cling to her. Still, there's a quiet intensity about it as her thoughts flicker back to the auditorium. She pulls back.

"I did need that, though."

"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?"

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 auditorium.

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.

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.

"Bodies." No, that isn't right. But they felt that substantial. "Little more than skeletal remains now. It was impossible to say how old, especially not knowing the sort of conditions they were exposed to. Sixty, maybe as many as seventy." Fred glances down at her own hand, remembering the message one of them held. "They could've been us, Wesley. And not just...so many different species. Different structures and composition and some that weren't bone at all. In twos and threes and grouped together like they were just waiting for it." And there. That small, unhelpful word. Now knowing what 'it' was. "Waiting for...they all died in that room. Together. And they left a note."

How did they just wait?

Her gaze flickers, finds Wesley again.

"Some of the other groups found more. A lobby. Bedrooms, just like at the castle. All different sizes and shapes and preferences. They even found something that looked like a journal."

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?"

"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.

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.

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.

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."

Edited 2011-12-08 09:03 (UTC)

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?"

"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.

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."

"All right, then. I'll put it out for you. Come upstairs when you're ready." He stood up, then leaned down to kiss her brow and headed upstairs to get the bath started and lay out the robe for her on his bed. He made sure to put some nice bath salts and foaming gel in the water. Scents of jasmine, sandalwood and lavender filled the small room. He lit the candles as well, remembering for a moment the bath that she had given him. One of these days they'd have one that was purely for pleasure and company.

But not tonight. Tonight Fred was troubled and tired, and sorely needed to be soothed and bundled into bed, not romanced.

Fred wasn't certain how long she sat there on Wesley's couch, letting her thoughts fill the space he previously occupied. At some point she stood, however, moving towards the kitchen to deposit her mug into the now-familiar sink. The sound of water being turned off overhead tugged her back into the present.

Walking upstairs, she made her way directly to the bathroom. Freshly reminded of just how much of the past week she still wore, Fred didn't want to drag it through any more of Wesley's house than she had to.

The flickering candlelight and scented water brought her up short, but just for a moment. She hadn't intended for Wesley to go to that much trouble. But now that it was there --

Why was she moving so slowly? It couldn't be soon enough that she was out of those clothes and submerged in the welcoming heat of the tub. But the actual process of peeling of her abused and damaged clothes away from her abused and damaged person seemed to go on forever.

Finally she'd untangled herself from them, depositing her jeans and shirt directly into the small trash bin. The rest of her clothing soon followed. She stepped into the tub, welcoming the warmth.

Wes had tried to stay out of her way once she'd mounted the stairs, but then he'd noticed that she hadn't taken the robe in with her. After he was sure she was well settled in the tub, he knocked quietly on the door.

"May I come in for a moment? You forgot to grab something to change into."

From the quiet light of the bathroom, Fred's face tilted towards the door. Her hair clung damply to her face her shoulders. She hadn't had time to properly was it yet? But she also hadn't wasted any time in immediately submerging herself in the tub and letting the fresh, scented water close over her head.

"...I suppose that's true." Fred trusted Wesley to interpret her conversation as the invitation that it was. "Honestly, once I heard the running water I was a little to distracted by the notion of what I was finally going to get out of to even consider what I would put on after."

He let himself in and moved to stand where they could see each other. He didn't avert his eyes, but nor did he leer. She was a very beautiful woman, and he desired her, that was an absolute given. But his focus was on ensuring that she was comfortable and allowing her cares to ease.

"I brought you some socks as well. Much too big, but they're winter ones so they should keep your feet pretty toasty." He set the clothes on the counter by the sink. "I hesitate to offer you a pair of boxers, but if you feel the need to wear clean underwear, I'll fetch some."

He gave her a wry sort of half-smile.

Fred felt herself smile at the offer of underwear, and it occurred to her in that moment she wasn't entirely certain of the last time she had. Maybe with Ray, when he had attempted to tease her to some level of distraction as he tended to her arm.

She sank deeper into the water then --

Not out of shyness but a simple need for more of the damp heat to sooth tired, sore muscles.

"The socks should be plenty. I spent over four years without a shred of underwear to my nap in Pylea. There's only so much you can do with scraps of fabric and animal skins. I got so out of habit with it, I honestly had trouble remembering underthings those first few months at the hotel."

There was less of an edge in her voice now, when Fred spoke about Pylea. A definite shift since Wesley witnessed the cave walls.

"I think I can manage for one night."

"You really shouldn't be telling me things like that. My mind wasn't ready for it." His smile had deepened at her words, though.

"Alright, then, I'll leave you to your bath. Unless you'd like me to scrub your back or wash your hair...?"

For a moment her face tilted towards the various soaps and bottles nearby, clearly considering the offer. Then Fred exhaled.

"Can I be vain and ask for that to wait until I'm a little less marred by vampire finches and more certain that nothing suspect will come out of my hair during the actual washing?"

There'd been a lot of bugs. And while it was likely a silly thing to be self conscious over? She was all the same. Fred glanced down at her left arm.

"I might need help wrapping my arm back up when I'm done, though."

"You're absolutely allowed to be vain. Although, I should point out that you could have grubs in your hair and I would still find you the most fetching creature I ever laid eyes on."

He crouches down on one knee for a moment to beg for a quick, undemanding kiss. Then he nods.

"I'll hold you to that. In the meantime, enjoy your bath. The hot water is gas-heated so you won't run out. I'll check on you periodically to make sure you haven't dozed off."

"..but that's the problem." Fred's never been especially adept at compliments, if for no other reason than she's always able to list off at least a dozen topics more interesting than herself.

Even now, with the heated water serving as a sort of mask, a faint blush is just evident along her skin.

"I wouldn't be the only creature your eyes with on. Not if I'm right about the condition of my hair."

Fred settles fully into the tub then, holding her breath as the hot water closes over various scrapes and hurts.

"And I think I can manage not to fall asleep. At least not yet."

...After the Other

Library

Tower - Open to Visitors

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Taking a Walk

Wes' townhouse.

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