Recall
by Lara

SUMMARY: While sharing an intimate moment, Wesley and Fred remember something they don't remember happening...and start investigating why.

RATING: FRAO [ESS] [AU]

SPOILERS: Season 5 up through "Lineage".

DISCLAIMER: I only wish I were as successful as Joss Whedon. He and Mutant Enemy own this; I just write fanfic for fun while waiting for my own big break.

DISTRIBUTION: Permission granted to the usual haunts. If anyone else wants to archive it, please let me know.

FEEDBACK: Very much appreciated. Please e-mail lara@darling-moon.com. Flames, however, will be used to fuel the fire in Wesley’s next spell casting session.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for everyone on the Wes/Fred Threads at both F4F and White Flag. I know which part of this you guys are more interested in, but I had to throw in some plot somewhere to set it up! Special thanks go to Meg (a.k.a. justsmile) for pointing out something about Knox I totally missed.

"Wesley? Wesley, are you there?"

He sat back on his couch, his eyes closed, as her voice filtered through the door. Not now...he couldn't deal with her now. Not after everything else. Pressing his hand to his eyes, he didn't answer her, hoping maybe she'd go away.

"Wesley...I know you're there. Please, let me in." She paused. "Look, you might as well let me in because I'm not going anywhere until you do."

She wouldn't either. He knew her well enough to know that she was stubborn when she wanted to be. Like the time she had refused to leave when... No, he didn't want to think about that again. Never again. He would never hurt her that way again.

Finally, rising from the couch, he walked over to the door and unlocked it, opening it. And even though he didn't want to think about that other time, he couldn't help but notice how similar a position they were in once again. Him leaning against the door, her staring at him across the threshold. This time, though, she didn't reach out to touch his face, but the sympathy was there in her eyes. Oh, those eyes...

"I...I wanted to check on you," Fred told him softly. "See how you were doing after..."

She didn't finish her sentence; she didn't need to. After what had happened with his father - no, not his father really but close enough. After that thing had almost destroyed him. And her.

"I'll be all right," he responded, his voice just as quiet. "Really. I just...just need some time."

At this, she finally moved, crossing the threshold and reaching up to touch his cheek with her right hand. She no longer wore the sling from when her arm had been injured. "You shouldn't be alone."

"Fred, I..." he started to protest before looking down into her eyes. "Won't Knox be-?"

"Knox isn't my keeper." Giving him a gentle smile, she slipped past him into the apartment, heading into the living room while he shut the door and relocked it. The place was dim, and there were several bottles of alcohol sitting around. Fred picked one up, sniffing it. The bottle was still over half full.

"Have you been drinking?" she asked.

"Not really. Just a few here and there over the last couple of days." He picked up the bottle nearest him and placed it back in his liquor cabinet. "Just enough that I didn't have to think about him. Not enough to get drunk."

"Wesley, it wasn't really him."

"I still thought I was shooting him at the time." He didn't turn back toward her, instead remaining facing away. "And I would do it again."

Crossing over to him, she handed him the bottle she was still holding, which he took without looking at her and also put away. "Wesley, what...what did he...?" She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet for a moment before raising her head to gaze at him again. "What did he do to you?"

"You know what he did," he responded as he shut the cabinet door.

"No, not the cyborg. I mean your real father...when you...when you were a child."

Leaning against the cabinet top for a moment, Wesley stared at the wall, Fred standing behind him. Before him, it was almost as if he could see the movie of his life playing on the white-washed expanse. Memories he didn't like to recall, happenings that he had allowed himself to forget until that mechanical version of Roger Wyndam-Pryce had marched into his life and brought it all back.

"How did you know?"

"The way you acted around...him," she told him. "Tell me, Wesley. Please. I can tell you need to talk to someone about it."

"He was...my father's and my relationship was never..." He trailed off, not wanting to actually say the words.

So she said them for him. "Did he abuse you?"

Slowly, he nodded. "More emotionally than anything, telling me I was never good enough, that I'd never amount to anything. That's why I was the way I was. I was trying to prove him wrong, so I tried to become like him." He snorted and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. "Was that a mistake."

"What about-?"

"Physically? Occasionally. He liked to...he more liked to lock me in the cupboard under the stairs than actually hit me."

Suddenly, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder blade. Wesley almost stopped breathing. This was the closest she had ever been without...without...

"I'm sorry, Wesley," she whispered.

"For what? You weren't the one who treated his son like an unwanted pet. You didn't make him act that way. And you didn't build that...thing."

"I know. I just meant-."

"I know." Turning slightly to face her, he gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you."

"You know you're nothing like what he said, don't you? You're the smartest person I've ever known."

"Except for you." His hand came up to run absently through her hair, toying with her curls.

Her cheeks flushing, she glanced down. "I don't count."

"You count," he told her. "In more ways than you realize."

Her eyes raised to meet his again, both of them standing there in complete silence for several moments. His fingers continued combing through her hair while hers began running up and down his arm. His hand then drifted to cup the back of her head and draw her towards him, and suddenly, before either of them could really process what was happening, they were in the middle of a devouring kiss, pressed together in the middle of the living room.

"Charles heard what Angelus said. The stuff about-."

"Me."

"Yeah, and-."

"How I feel about you."

"Yes...which is very sweet. There's nothing with it."

"Yes, there is."

Gasping, both of them suddenly pulled apart, gaping at each other, Fred's eyes wide with confusion.

"Did you just...?" he asked.

"Remember something that never happened?"

After a moment, he nodded.

*****

"Okay," Fred said as she sat curled up on the couch in Wesley's office at Wolfram and Hart, a pad of paper sitting in her lap. "You said Angel mentioned a prophecy once that you don't recall ever having translated. There was also Angel's reference to someone named Connor back the day we decided to take Wolfram and Hart's offer and something about sons and fathers a few days ago. Not to mention we both remember a kiss that we're pretty sure never took place before...you know..."

Wesley nodded as he paced the area in front of her. "Have you had any strange dreams lately?"

"I've had one that recurs every now and then. There's this woman, and she pretty except she's actually really evil and everyone is following her like mindless zombies."

He stopped and looked at her, his brow furrowing as he ran his hand over the bottom of his face. "I've had a similar dream. Also, something about being in hospital and..." His hand moved down to cover his neck for a moment.

"How can we be having similar dreams?" she asked. "Unless-."

"They're not dreams?"

"You think someone messed with our memories?"

Crossing over to the couch, he sat down next to her, reaching out to take the notepad. "Knowing Wolfram and Hart and what they've done to Gunn and Lorne, I wouldn't put it past them. But the question is what did they do?"

"And why."

"And how. Lorne and Gunn actually let them make their alterations willingly. But as far as I know, we didn't let them tamper with our memories." He paused and looked up. "Did we?"

"I'm pretty sure I wouldn't let them. I'm crazy enough without a mental mind fuck." At Wesley's shocked expression, she elaborated, "Rocky Horror?"

He shook his head. "Never saw it."

"We'll have to remedy that." She glanced back at what she had written on the notepad. "Do you think that maybe...that maybe Angel has something to do with this?"

"He has mentioned things that the rest of us don't seem to have memories of."

"Maybe we should ask him."

"I doubt he'll tell us the truth. If he agreed to something with Wolfram and Hart, there must have been a reason." Tapping the notepad, he considered what Fred had written down. "Why don't I take a look through some of the firm archives and see what I can find regarding someone named Connor and this prophecy."

"All right. Why don't I start with some analysis from my end. Could I get a blood sample from you? I'll check both of us to see if there's anything unusual."

"Good idea." He stood up and went over to his desk, tossing the pad down on top of the other work sitting there from before his "father's" little visit.

"Should we talk to Gunn and Lorne about this?" Fred asked as she stood up from the couch, straightening out her skirt.

"Not yet. Let's see what we find first."

Nodding, she headed for the door. "I'm going to go get a few things, then I'll be back to get that sample from you."

As she left, Wesley picked up the phone to call downstairs.

*****

The lab was practically deserted as Fred sat down and pulled her hair back before considering the vials of blood sitting on the counter. Knowing Wolfram and Hart, whatever they might have done was probably magic-related, but they couldn't discount anything.

Taking a few drops of Wesley's sample, she placed it on the slide glass and covered it before setting it on the microscope platform in front of her. After she focused the slide, she examined it, flipping between the different magnifications. The cells appeared normal - she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Quickly, she made up a slide with her own sample and checked that. Her blood cells appeared normal as well.

Sitting back, she squeezed the back of her neck, considering this for a moment. Their cells were fine, but that didn't mean that something else hadn't been introduced to their bloodstream. Collecting the vials, she took them over to the lab's analyzer and loaded them.

"Hey, whatcha up to?"

Startled, Fred spun around to find Knox standing behind her. "Knox! You startled me." She pressed her hand over her chest for a moment to calm herself. "I thought you had gone home."

"Forgot my PDA," he answered, holding the hand-sized computer up. "Saw you were down here still. So what are you analyzing?"

Fred glanced over her shoulder at the machine and shrugged. "Um... nothing...I mean, just something Wesley and I are working on."

"Oh! Can I help you with anything?"

She shook her head. "No. That's okay. I have to wait until the analysis is done anyway."

"Okay." He started to head for the lab entrance then stopped and turned around. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Because really, I don't mind if..."

"Goodnight, Knox," she said firmly.

Her tone seemed to surprise him as he took a step back toward the door. "Night, Boss."

As he turned around, Wesley opened the doors to enter the lab. He stopped for a moment, glancing between Knox and Fred.

"Evening, Knox," he greeted civilly.

"Mister Wyndam-Pryce."

"Burning the midnight oil?"

"Just retrieving my PDA." For a moment, the shorter man stayed where he was as though he didn't want to leave then finally slipped pass him into the hall. "Have a good evening."

Wesley watched him go then turned and walked into the lab, letting the doors swing completely closed behind him. "Did he-?" he started to ask as he crossed over to where Fred was standing.

She shook her head. "No...I don't think so. I didn't tell him anything at any rate."

"Good." He motioned to the microscope. "Have you found anything?"

"Not yet. Our blood cells are normal, so I'm running the samples through the analyzer for any signs of drugs or anything like that." She leaned against the counter behind her. "What about you? Any luck with your research?"

"A little. Remember the Niazian Scrolls Gunn and I retrieved about a year and a half ago? The one that predicted the coming of the Beast."

"Yes. Was there something more to that?"

"Well, there was that passage that I never had a chance to translate. I checked it against the scrolls and books that Wolfram and Hart have, and that passage was never part of the original scroll. It was added somehow. I used the books to translate it - it said, 'The Father will kill the Son.'"

Fred's brow furrowed at this. "That's what Angel said, isn't it?"

Crossing to lean against the counter next to her, Wesley nodded. "Yes. And the thing is, he said it like I should have known what he was talking about. But comparing it to the firm archival material, it's quite clearly a fake passage. Very well done, but fake nonetheless."

"But you didn't know it was a fake before this?"

"No. I was just never able to finish the translation." Suddenly, he stopped for a moment and thought about this. "At least, I don't think I ever did."

"What do you mean?"

"For some reason, I feel like I have. It's as though part of me is saying that I never figured it out, but another part of me is saying that I did." He glanced at her in confusion. "Does that make any sort of sense?"

She nodded, placing her hand over his. "Yes." They looked at each other silently for a moment. "What about Connor? Any references to him?"

"No, nothing. But I feel like I should know that name."

"Me, too."

Wesley pushed himself away from the cabinet. "Damn it, what the hell is going on?" He raked his hand through his hair. "I'm starting to feel like the things we think happened in the last year and a half are wrong."

"Have you remembered anything else?"

"No, that's the problem. You?"

She shook her head. "It's like I know something's there, but I can't reach it." Sighing, she yanked her ponytail holder out of her hair, thinking about what had started their realization that something was wrong. "Wesley?"

He met her gaze. "Fred?"

"Maybe we should...?" She pushed herself away from the counter and walked over to him, running her hand up his chest to his neck. "We remembered the last time."

He knew what she was talking about. His left hand immediately came to rest on her waist, pulling her closer until there was practically no space between them. Cupping his right hand to the back of her head, he leaned down, bringing his lips to hers. At first the kiss was tentative, having none of the spontaneity of the earlier one at his apartment. But within moments, the kiss deepened, became more passionate.

Suddenly, Fred felt herself bumping up against the counter, and the two of them broke the kiss, breathing heavily though making no move to pull away from each other.

"Anything?" she asked.

He responded in the negative. "You?"

"Nothing. Maybe we need to...you know..."

"Keep trying?"

"Well, you never know."

Giving her a smile, he embraced her more tightly and kissed her again. As her eyes closed, her hands ran up his back to tangle themselves in his short hair, her fingers caressing the base of his skull, causing him to murmur in pleasure and approval. He ran his tongue gently over her lips, meanwhile, causing them to part so he could deepen the kiss. Without warning, he lifted her up and sat her on the counter, never breaking contact.

Within moments, they had forgotten all about mind tampering and lost memories. Wesley's hand moved from her waist up her torso, stroking the skin bared by the mid-riff blouse she was wearing underneath her lab coat. Fred moaned softly at the contact and hooked her legs around his, pulling him closer.

His fingers continued traveling up, grasping her coat and pulling at it. She let go of him for a moment to allow him to strip it off and throw it to the floor, then leaned back, her hands grasping the edge of the countertop. Wesley broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck. His hand slid back down to her thighs pushing up her skirt, rubbing across her soft skin.

She felt so good.

Releasing the counter edge, Fred sat up and reached for his shirt to pop open the buttons. She pushed it aside, her fingers running over his now bare chest, teasing around his nipples and tracing down across the lines of his abs. Wesley moved one hand from her thigh up to her breast, cupping her through the thin material of her blouse. When she moaned, he caught it with another kiss, practically devouring her with a need that had been pent-up for far too long.

Behind them, the analyzer beeped, indicating that it was done with the blood samples. But neither of them noticed, instead focused on each other. Wesley's shirt fell to the floor next to Fred's lab coat, and a moment later, her blouse joined the pile. The fact that they were in the Wolfram and Hart laboratory did not enter their minds, nor did the thought that anyone still around could quite possibly walk in on them. Wesley continued to caress her breast though the silken material of her bra, drawing his thumb across her nipple.

"Wesley," gasped Fred, the first coherent word she had uttered in several minutes. He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, wondering if she wanted to stop this. But all he could see was smoldering need and a want so deep it almost bore into him. His hands went back down to her skirt, pushing it even farther up until he could hook his finger under the edge of her panties and pull them down her legs. As they fell away to the floor, he traced back up, his fingers delving into her, causing her to the moan at the dizzying sensations that assaulted her. She began pulling at his belt, unbuckling it and unzipping his pants. She pushed them down along with his boxers, letting them pool at the floor around his ankles. Trailing her hand back up, she caressed his length, guiding him toward her.

A passionate growl emanated from him as she lifted her legs higher, tilting so he could slide inside her, filling her completely in one smooth stroke. Both of them let out cries that they quickly smothered with another kiss, lips and tongues dancing while Wesley began pumping in short, rhythmic strokes.

God, he realized somewhere in the part of his brain that could actually still form a coherent thought, this was Fred. He was actually with Fred. After so long.

Their movements caused the equipment around them on the counter to vibrate, beakers clinking together and some of the other machines rocking back and forth. Reaching back, Fred pressed her palm against the counter behind her, leaning back and rising up to meet each movement.

After several minutes, Wesley kicked his trousers away and wrapped his arms around her, gathering her closer, almost crushing her in his embrace. He picked her up off the countertop and moved over to one of the chairs, sitting down so she was straddling his lap. Grinning, Fred placed her hands on his shoulders and began riding him. His hands grasping her waist to help her move, he nuzzled her breasts, nipping her through her bra before pushing it aside so he could suck her heated flesh, swirling his tongue around her pebbled nipple.

Fred gasped loudly, closing her eyes, letting everything wash over her. This was Wesley. She was with Wesley. And God, she wanted more.

Letting go of his shoulder, she cupped his chin and lifted his face up so she could kiss him again. He tangled a hand up in her hair, damp now with perspiration, holding onto her tightly, not wanting this moment to end.

But it still did, and far too soon. Shaking in the aftermath, they sat together in the chair, staring at each other, neither sure what to say for a few moments. Fred ran her hand over his brow, wiping off the beads of sweat, then kissed his forehead.

"I think we can safely figure on something," she said softly.

"Oh, what's that?" he asked, his accent thick.

"I'm pretty certain we've never done that together before."

*****

Outside the door, Knox turned away at the sounds coming from inside the lab. Damn it. The Senior Partners weren't going to be happy with him about this.

At the end of the hall, Eve appeared, her eyebrow raised as she considered him for a moment. Then she crooked her finger to him, indicating that he should join her. Slowly, he walked toward her.

"You remember what the deal was, don't you?" she asked.

He nodded. After what had happened to him and the other attendees of the previous year's Halloween party, the Senior Partners had made him a deal - indefinite leave from Hell in return for keeping Fred Burkle and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce apart. For some reason, they wanted those two away from each other, no matter what.

And for a while, he had succeeded. By distracting her with various ideas for projects and becoming her friend. By creating that cyborg at Eve's behest, using the files Wolfram and Hart had on the Watcher's Council members. But that 'for a while' didn't matter when all was said and done. In the end, when it counted, he had failed. Miserably.

*****

"Angel, we need to talk to you."

The vampire regarded his two friends standing in the foyer outside his top-floor apartment in the Wolfram and Hart Tower. Fred and Wesley both appeared rather disheveled - and deadly serious. Something was definitely wrong.

"Come in," he responded.

After they entered, he took around the vestibule, half-expecting to find Eve lurking around. Seeing no one, he closed the door behind him and turned to his friends, who had made themselves comfortable on one of the couches in the living room, sitting quite close together with his arm around her shoulders. Wondering if he had missed something but realizing it wasn't the time to ask, he sat in the leather chair across from the couch.

"What's going on? Is something wrong? This doesn't have to do with what your father did, does it?"

Wesley and Fred glanced at each other as Wesley replied, "Actually, this has to do with us. All of us." He turned his head to star directly at his friend. "Who's Connor?"

Angel flinched noticeably at the question but tried to keep himself collected. "I...I don't know who you're talking about."

"I think you do."

"There's something wrong with our memories," Fred added. "We're starting to recall things that never happened - at least that we think never happened. We have the same dreams. And you've mentioned things that have never happened as well. It all adds up to one thing."

"Have Wolfram and Hart altered what we think happened in the last year and a half?" Wesley asked.

Angel looked down at his hands as his clasped them in front of him. He had once gone after Wesley for not telling him the truth though the other man couldn't remember that now. Could he really keep this from them since they had asked him point-blank? Finally, he answered, "Yes."

"Why?"

He looked up, his dark eyes glittering in the lights from Los Angeles cityscape beyond the windows. "Because of my son. Because of Connor."

*****

The digital read-out on the panel counted backwards as the elevator slowly descended to the Tower's first floor. Staring at it, Wesley and Fred both tried to digest everything that Angel had told them. A son. Angel had a son. And their lives had been rearranged to make them forget.

"Do you think we'll ever remember everything?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. It'll probably come back to us in bits and pieces. Like it did when we...you know."

She nodded and then continued to stare at the changing numbers for a few more moments. "I guess we shouldn't say anything to Charles or Lorne."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Angel told us in confidence. Besides, it'll just confuse things more."

Silence again fell over the occupants of the elevator. When it reached the first floor, they stepped out and headed for the parking garage together since they had driven in together earlier.

Along the way, they took each other's hand.

Upon reaching his jeep, they stood looking at each other. Neither of them seemed to know what to say to the other. So many things had changed within the last few hours.

"My place?" he finally asked.

With a smile, she nodded and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck as he leaned in to kiss her.

© November 2003

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