The Call of Fred
I tried to think about everything once more. All the things I was gonna say to explain the situation down here. I closed my eyes for a sec and massaged my temples with my finger tips. My thoughts racing so fast that it was almost hard to keep up with them. Why didn't we think about this before? The answer had been right there, staring right at
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Fred? Pulling up from the couch I sent Andrew a look that was sadly becoming very practiced, and picked my way through to the kitchen phone. Sometimes in my head I labeled areas of the house with numbers, truely aknowleging the obstacle course it had become. In section number one we had a large pile of unfolded laundry, followed by challange number two, three pairs of rollerblades -- tossed aside. For a special kind of fun watch for the two swords and three knives one good trip could send you into.
And on and on.
Picking up the phone I paused just a moment more. Fred? I didn't know a Fred did I? The onlt 'slightly effiminate' voice that might seek me out from LA could only belong to Wesley. And Wesley and Fred did sound even remotely alike ( ... )
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"Hello...hello?"
I dropped the pen on the floor accidentally as the soft voice finally came on the line. My mind went blank for like three full seconds before I actually able to say anything at all.
"Uh, hi... Willow right? Hi, I'm Fred- umm, Burkle. Calling from L.A." I looked out the office to make sure no one was looking; I could see Lorne holding a drink, and Charles opposite of him loading the tranquilizer guns. And there was no sign of Connor or Cordelia.
Okay Fred, get it together, I told myself.
"You don't know me, but I'm friends with Cordy, and Wesley, and Angel. Actually I work with them... and uh- um, we're sort of in pickle." Well, it was a lot more than that. Rain of fire, eternal darkness... Angelus.
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I nodded to the phone, not that she could actually see. 'She' in the sense that the caller was not effeminate, but feminine. I sent a small look in Andrew's direction, not that he could see -- since he had already left the kictchen. He in the sense of not being feminie, but effeminate.
The events of the past few weeks might have me thinking in circles. But, I think that was about right. In a general, non-accusatory, just making an observation sort of way.
"You don't know me, but I'm friends with Cordy, and Wesley, and Angel. Actually I work with them... and uh- um, we're sort of in pickle."
Something clicked in my head, and as it did I leaned against a nearby wall for support. An image flashed of a small, wild-haired girl only to be replaced by bigger and harsher images. Of an empty hotel that suited an emptier me, of Angel's knowing look that very moment our eyes met, and of the single hardest conversation of my life. But yes, somewhere behind all that - I ( ... )
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I started giggling nervously. I vaguely remembered that day. Everyone was real somber and all, and the first thing that I did was hide in my other cave/room.
I couldn't believe how time had gone by since than, and I was mostly glad to have grown out of that stage, even if took months and a visit from my parents to get me all straighten out.
"Oh yeah... Sorry 'bout that. I was sorta in my own-- world, from the... you know, being in a whole alternate dimension for five years." Not that she would know anything about that, because, well, I was all trading one cave for another and Angel was off to some monastery to grieve over Buffy and Cordy and Wesley were... some where in that whole scenario.
I guess those first few months were really sorta fuzzy for me.
"But, you said something about a pickle? Kosher, dill, or bread and butter?"I laughed, it sorta sounded weird with everything that had happened, but if felt good to laugh ( ... )
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