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All the Wrong Places - Part 11
Angel finished typing reluctantly and signed off, then turned
to Wes with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. I kind of hate to leave
him here alone, you know?"
"We could do this another time if you'd rather "
"Are you kidding? He'd kill me." Angel tilted his head to one
side, looking at the other man and noting that Wes probably hadn't
been getting enough sleep either. "He thinks we need to talk."
He hesitated, then added, "I think he's right."
Wesley's lips turned up into a faint ghost of a smile.
"Doyle's rather good at getting people to want what he thinks they should."
Angel blinked, not knowing for sure what Wesley was saying.
"You don't think we should talk?"
"I didn't say that. Just that the idea hadn't occurred to me
until Doyle started replying to every other paragraph with 'Talk
to Angel'."
Going over to get his coat -- he wouldn't need it, but he
didn't feel right without it -- Angel gestured at the doorway in the
hopes that they were going to get moving. "Yeah, I've been getting
the other side of that, myself."
Wesley stepped out into the hallway and waited for Angel to
join him. "Was he always this...this..."
"Pushy?" Angel hit the light switch on his way out. "Yeah,
pretty much."
"Remarkable skill," Wesley mused. "To be that... pushy, but
still be quite likable."
They started down the hallway, at least eighteen inches of
empty space between them. "He thinks he knows what he's doing."
Angel thought about that for a second. "He usually does."
"Irritating, that." Wesley pressed the button for the elevator
when they reached the end of the hall.
"It can be, yeah." Angel stuck his hands in the pockets of
his coat. "So what else has he been saying to you? Other than the
talk to me thing?"
"We've talked about Cordelia some." Wesley's voice softened
a little on the name. "And...cabbage patch brachen demons."
The doors opened, and Angel let Wes go into the elevator
first. "*What* kind of brachen demons?"
"Cabbage patch brachen demons. Like the doll? Doyle thinks
they could be the next hot toy."
"Okay, I'm thinking it's not a bad thing that I have no idea
what you're talking about." Angel made sure to keep at least
some distance between them as the elevator started its descent.
"That was also part of the conversation," Wesley told him,
seeming to take note of the space between them and stepping further away
in response.
There, see? Wes couldn't get far enough away from him.
Convinced that Doyle was nuts, Angel sighed. "You were talking about
how clueless I am?" Why did that not make him feel any better?
"When it comes to popular culture, yes."
"Popular culture scares me."
Again Wesley gave him one of the barely-there smiles. "Yes,
I've noticed."
One floor from the lobby. Before the elevator could stop,
before the doors could open, Angel blurted out, "I'm sorry."
Wesley turned and looked at him.
There wasn't enough time. Quick as lightning, Angel reached out
and pushed the stop button on the elevator, freezing it in place
before they could reach the lobby. The movement put him closer to
Wesley than he'd been in a while. "Um... I'm sorry?"
Wesley didn't move away, just continued to look at him. "For
what, exactly?" Wesley asked carefully.
Angel kept very still. Last thing he wanted was to freak Wes
out. "For the thing in the hospital. The pillow thing." He looked at
Wes steadily, trying to let his regret show in his eyes. "I'm sorry."
Wesley's eyes closed briefly, and he was close enough that Angel felt the breath
of his soft sigh. "I...understand why you... But thank you."
"I don't want things between us to be... like this. The way
they've been." Angel struggled to find the right words. "I know we can't
go back. But I want us to be able to talk again."
Wesley continued to stare at him, and Angel glimpsed
complicated emotions pass through the other man's eyes: pain, regret,
hope blazing then swiftly pushed back down. Then, surprisingly,
Wesley chuckled softly, shifting to lean his head against the
elevator wall. "I feel like something of a fool right now."
"What?" Angel felt an almost-overwhelming urge to reach out
and touch Wes -- just his shoulder, something -- but he managed
to repress it. "Why?"
"Because I've spent an exorbitant amount of time insisting to
Doyle that you'd never... Well, say what you just said."
Realizing how close they were still standing, Angel took
a tentative step sideways. "That I was sorry?" He glanced at the
stop button. "Did you think I wasn't? Or just that I wouldn't say it?"
"You were... justified... in your actions, considering,"
Wesley said softly. "But I was talking about wanting us to talk again."
"Oh." Angel reached out and fiddled with the stop button,
but didn't pull it back out again. "Well yeah, I do. I... miss you."
"Really?" The word, wistfulness personified, seemed to have
slipped out without Wesley meaning it to.
"Yeah." Angel smiled a little bit sadly. "As much as I miss
Cordy. And you've been here the whole time."
Wesley was beginning to look torn. "I... This doesn't
change anything." He paused. "Does it?"
Angel had to be honest. "No. I mean, it can't change what already happened -- nothing can do that. But... we can get past it.
Maybe. Can't we?"
Wesley looked at him, then looked away. "I don't know," he
said softly, raw honesty in his voice.
There was a long moment in which Angel didn't know what to say, and then
he pulled the stop button out, and the elevator finished its journey to
the lobby. As the doors started to open, Angel said, very quietly, "So
do you still want to get a drink? Or is this it?"
"Whatever we end up being, I don't think this is it," Wesley
said, managing to find a smile. "It's... it's going to be difficult,
but I don't want to give up just because of that."
Angel wasn't sure he dared to smile in return, so again he
waited for Wes to leave the elevator first, and followed after him,
not too closely. "Where we going?" he asked, as they went out the
front door of Wolfram and Hart.
"There's a English style pub not far from here; it came up in
a conversation with Doyle, which is what got me thinking about it.
We can get a drink there, and it's quiet enough that we
can...talk." Wesley glanced at him as they walked down the sidewalk. "If
you still want to ?"
"Yeah," Angel said hastily. "As long as you do." He shrugged
a little bit. "As long as you're not just humoring me."
"That's never been something I've been very good at."
"Humoring people in general? Or just me?"
He got another faint smile. "Both."
"That's probably good." Angel kept glancing at Wes out of
the corner of his eye. "So how've you been?"
"Well," Wesley answered promptly. Then after a moment of
awkward silence, he added in a softer voice, "Busy. Tired. There's been
a lot to do."
"There are a lot of people to do it. You don't have to
do everything yourself."
"I don't. But there are some things I have to do, some decisions
I have to --" Wesley broke off. "If I don't make them, there
isn't anyone else to."
Angel stopped dead in his tracks, not unaware that the metaphor
was really appropriate. "What are you... are you on *drugs?*
Wes... you're not alone in this. I mean, I'm not saying I'm the
most qualified person to make decisions, but you don't have to
take responsibility for everything."
Wesley wouldn't look at him. "You've had your own responsibilities running
the entire lawfirm. Helping Cordelia and Doyle, those are things that
are assigned to my department -- it's my responsibility to help them.
I can't -- I won't make a mistake. Again." Wesley's face screwed
up as if trying to reach for something that wasn't there. "I..."
Angel felt a stab of guilt when he realized that he was seeing the compulsion
not to talk about the replaced memories in action. "Hey, come on. It's
gonna be fine -- we're gonna fix things. For both of them. And when I say 'we'
I mean 'you,' but not in a pressure kinda way. You're doing great."
"I don't want to fail either of them. I don't want to fail you."
The need to reassure Wesley was stronger than the part of
Angel that wanted to admit that he had his own doubts, faint though
they were. "You aren't going to. Geez, if this is the kind of
thing you've been thinking, no wonder you've been depressed." Too
late, he realized that this was something Doyle had told him,
and probably something he shouldn't have admitted to knowing.
And Wesley, smart as he was, didn't miss the slip. "Doyle's been telling
tales, I see."
Angel shook his head. "Not exactly. I asked how he thought
you were, he told me. It's not like he just came out with it."
Wesley shook his head. "It doesn't surprise me much. Doyle's
been at me to " He abruptly cut himself off.
Angel waited, then slowly started walking again. *Very*
slowly. "Been at you to what?" he asked, as casually as he could.
"Been after me to tell you how much I... admire you.
Think you're... good," Wesley replied softly a moment later.
Angel snorted before he realized he was going to, then
stopped again. "You're serious."
Wesley nodded. "I am."
"Okay, now I *know* you're on drugs."
This time it was Wesley who stopped and faced him,
expression serious. "Angel, I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you
how you care, what you do."
He didn't even know where to begin with that. "Seems like you
have good reason not to believe in me," he said finally.
"I have good reason to believe in you too. I..." Wesley
looked away. "What happened between us, that doesn't change that. I-
I tried.. It was... me. My fault. I..." Again Wesley trailed
off, obviously fighting the mental compulsion.
They started walking again.
"I think when we get Doyle out of there, we should make him
have one of these kinds of talks," Angel offered.
That surprised a laugh out of Wesley. "Yes. Though somehow, I
doubt he'd find it this difficult."
"Probably not." Angel relaxed a little bit when he thought
of Doyle, feeling warmed from within. "He thinks I shouldn't have
any more to drink tonight."
Wesley gave him a startled look. "You've been drinking?"
Damn. Angel'd thought it was obvious. "Um... no?"
"Why? Because the thought of talking to me was so... unpalatable?"
"What?" Angel stopped again, aware that if he kept doing
this they'd never actually *get* to the place with the drinks. "No!"
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the ache
there. "Actually, it was because Doyle and I were talking about...
stuff that wasn't very fun. To talk about."
"Oh." Wesley got very quiet.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Oh?"
"Well, it's obvious whatever it is isn't something you want
to discuss with me." Wesley shrugged. "So what else can I say?"
"I think Doyle was wrong."
Wesley grew still. "About what?" he asked, the tension palpable
in his body. "Us?"
Angel looked at Wesley and wondered if it was even possible for them to
get back to things being good between them, when everything was a misunderstanding.
"No, about the drinking. Please tell me we're somewhere near the place
we're going, or I'm gonna start wishing we'd stayed in the office and talked
there."
"Oh." Some of the tension seemed to run out of Wesley, replaced
by embarrassment. "Sorry, I-" He shook his head. "Sorry." He
gestured down the street. "It's just another block."
"Doyle was kind of hoping we'd stay at the office so he could
keep an eye on us," Angel said, relieved that it wasn't much
further. "Said that way he'd know if we came to blows." He looked
sideways at Wes. "You weren't planning on that, were you?"
"It wasn't in my top five things to do tonight, no."
Angel grinned, just a little bit. "Good. I'm thinking that'd put
a damper on the whole getting back together thing."
"Plus there's the whole breakable thing to worry about,"
Wesley added.
"Breakable thing?"
"Me."
"Oh." Angel put his hands back in his pockets as they neared
what was obviously the pub. "Wesley, I'm not going to... I mean,
I wouldn't..."
"I know," Wesley quickly assured him with another of those
faint smiles. "It was an attempt at humour. A rather poor one, it
turns out."
"Never claimed to be the smartest guy around." Angel pulled
the door to the pub open and held it for Wes. "That'd be you."
For a second Wesley paused midstep before continuing on through
the door. "Except when it counts, it seems."
The inside of the pub was kind of dark, and there weren't a lot
of people. It seemed like a good place to talk. If you were any
good at that sort of thing.
Angel was becoming increasingly convinced that he wasn't.
He had no idea what to say.
Wesley got their drinks at the bar, then led the way to a table back in a dark
corner. They sat down, and the awkward silence continued until Wesley,
obviously casting around for a subject that wouldn't be an issue, asked,
"Does Doyle seem the same?"
Looking down into his drink thoughtfully, Angel said,
"Yeah. Completely. I mean, not like a lot's happened to him since the
last time I saw him, so I guess that makes sense."
"It does make you wonder though, doesn't it?" Wesley
stared thoughtfully down at his glass. "Was he somewhere else and
just can't remember? Or is that all there is when we die nothing?"
"Speaking from personal experience, I don't remember
anything," Angel said. "But then, not like I was dead for years. Maybe
there wasn't time for anything exciting to happen."
"It could be different for a vampire though. When you're
turned, it's not so much death as a... physiological change."
"Yeah, I guess." Angel shrugged and took a sip of his
drink, wondering if getting really really drunk would make talking easier.
"It's something I contemplate from time to time." Wesley picked
up his drink and took a healthy swallow. "I've met a
significant number of people who have died and come back, and I still have
no idea what happens when we do. Die, I mean. Heaven,
hell, nothing..."
"Hell's no picnic. But then, I've always thought that
hell dimensions were, you know... *dimensions.* Not places where
people go when they die."
Wesley looked up. "What do you think happens to us when we die?"
It felt like he was caught in Wes' gaze. "I don't know," he
said slowly. "I was kind of hoping it was just... the end."
Wesley's eyes got distant. "No more struggle, no more pain
or doubts. No more responsibilities weighing you down... Nothing
does have a certain appeal."
Even though he'd been in that place himself, and pretty
recently, Angel didn't like the thought of Wes being there. "Is it
because you miss her?"
"How can I miss her when she won't go away?" Wesley's mouth
twisted into a bitter grimace.
Angel was taken aback. Again. "Oh. I, um... didn't realize she'd been
around that much."
"Once was too much."
Confused now, Angel sat back in his chair and just looked at
Wes, as if staring at him would somehow clear things up. "But I
thought you said she won't go away. I thought you meant she was, you
know, hanging around a lot."
Wesley rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "She doesn't have to
be hanging around to still be here. It's enough that she could-
that she's-"
"That she's what?" Angel asked gently.
"In hell. In perpetuity. And I couldn't- I can't-" Wesley
sighed and drained the rest of his drink. "Another person I failed."
Now Angel was really starting to get worried. "Lilah knew what
she was getting herself into, Wes. It's not your fault that she
signed that contract, and it's not your fault that she's... dead."
Wesley didn't answer.
Angel reached across the table and touched Wesley's hand,
very briefly. Just to get his attention. "Tell me that you know it's
not your fault."
"Intellectually, I know that Lilah made her own choices."
"But emotionally...?"
"Emotionally... I still feel like there should have been
something I could do."
Angel sighed. "I think this is where Doyle would say something
like 'You can't keep beatin' yourself up over something you didn't
have any control over.'"
Wesley slumped back in his seat. "It's the fact that I can't
stop thinking I should have been in control."
"Of what? The fact that she signed some contract years before
she even met you?"
"She was killed because I... we... didn't realise that Cordelia..."
Wesley's gaze flickered to meet Angel's for a brief second. "Or
that Angelus was going to double back."
Angel's own eyes immediately dropped to the table as he tried
to cover up his own reaction. Damn, maybe it'd been a good thing
that he hadn't been spending much time with Wes or any of the
others since the mind wipe, if there was no way to know which
memories were still the original ones and which had been altered.
He thought maybe Lilah had said something about this, but at
the time Angel hadn't really been paying attention. He'd been so set
on making things right for Connor that everything else had flown
right in under the radar.
Not, he told himself, that he would have decided different, even
if he'd known.
"That was my fault," he said finally. "Not yours."
A faint, bitter smile crossed Wesley's face. "I was taught
to believe I should be able to anticipate all contingencies,
should predict and be ready to counter..." He sighed. "I wasn't."
"So now you just, what, wallow in misery for the rest of your
life because you're not perfect?" Angel couldn't help but notice
the irritation that had crept into his voice.
He also couldn't help but notice the barely perceptible flinch
that went through Wesley's form at Angel's tone and words. "It
would seem so. My father would certainly agree."
"Then your father's an asshole."
Wesley gave a half shrug. "I won't argue. But it doesn't
change anything."
"No, it doesn't. Which is why you've gotta get past it."
"Just like that?" Wesley gave a short bitter laugh. "It's not
that easy."
"Didn't say it was." Angel cursed Lilah silently, thinking that
as much of this was her fault as either of theirs. He tried to
think of what Doyle might say, but after a minute he gave up and
finished the rest of his drink instead. "Tell me something that would
help. Just one thing."
The length of time it took Wesley to answer made Angel's heart sink. When he
finally did speak, it was with a wistfulness that was so sharp it could
cut. "Be my friend?"
"That... me?" Angel was stunned, open-mouthed. "I can help?"
Wesley seemed hesitant, but nodded mutely. "We were... I
miss that."
Angel looked down at his hands, then up at Wesley, but he
couldn't maintain the gaze. "Me too."
Wesley let his breath out in a long sigh. "So."
"So..." Angel tried a little smile. "Is this the part where
we shake hands?"
"Think the world will end if we try?"
A genuine grin pulled the corners of Angel's mouth up. "I'm
willing to chance it if you are."
He got an answering smile from Wesley, tiny but real, as
they reached across the table to shake hands.
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