Troubles

By Merzibelle

*the opening dialogue, though descriptively embellished, is taken from Psyche's transcript of the episode, Billy.

Wesley stared at nothing, crumbled balls of tissue and paper were scattered about the floor at his feet and across the table top. Memories of Fred's terror filled eyes haunted him, invaded his dreams edging them into blood-filled nightmares where she didn't stop him, where he caught her, tortured her and finally killed her to stop her screams. The sound of rapid knocking caused him to face the door, then her voice came.

"Wesley. Wesley, it's me. Fred."

Moving slowly, feeling far older than his years, Wesley rose and crossed the apartment. Opening the door, he glanced at her before quickly dropping his gaze. He couldn't look at her, not after what he'd done.

"Oh. Does that hurt?" Fred asked, reaching toward the scratches she had left on his face. He shied away from her hand. "Sorry," she said as she stepped back, nearer the doorframe. She tucked her hands behind her back, briefly drawing his attention to her before he ducked his head again. "I left a bunch of messages."

Wesley nodded, slightly. "Yes. I… I meant to call you back." He leaned on the edge of the door, finally looking at her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Fred moved back, away from him until she was almost against the doorframe, shaking her head at him. "Wesley, you gotta come back to work."

"How can I?"

"What do ya mean? How can you not? You're the boss. We need you." She smiled, hoping to get him to do so. "You took a few days off. That's good. We all did. But now it's time to come back."

"Fred, I tried to kill you." He still couldn't look at her, not for more than a few seconds. It was all he could do to keep his feelings locked up inside him. Fred shook her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips, "It wasn't you."

"How can you know that? Something inside me was forced to the surface, something primal, something..."

"Do you want to kill me?"

"Oh God, no." He caught her gaze for a moment, before looking away again.

"It wasn't something in you, Wesley. It was something that was done to you."

"I don't know what kind of man I am anymore."

"Well I do. You're a good man." Wesley almost smiled, a watery smile, but a smile nonetheless. Fred smiled back at him, "Will I see you back at the office?"

"Yeah"

"Good." She slid out the door, watching as he closed it behind her. As she turned away she thought she heard a muffled sob.

Wes shut the door and sobbed, then leaned heavily against the door crying, before slowly sliding down it to kneel on the floor, all the repressed emotion of the last few days coming to the surface in the face of her easy forgiveness, something that he couldn't give himself.

Outside in the hall, Fred looked at the door for a moment, then turned away to start down the hall. She hadn't taken more than a few steps when she turned back, resting a hand on the edge of the recess to his door. She could hear his quiet sobbing and couldn't leave. Taking a slow breath, she reached for the doorknob turning it slowly, dreading that she'd find it locked. It wasn't. Fred pushed the door open, peering around it to see Wes huddled on the floor. The mere sight of him, normally so strong, had her edging around the door and closing it behind her. Absently she locked it, before quietly speaking his name.

"Wes?" The sound of Fred's soft voice reached him but failed to truly penetrate the depression that surrounded him. He drew in another painful sobbing breath.

The sight of Wes' face struck Fred to her soul. Wet trails of tears marked his face, yet his seemed heedless of them, of her, of everything save the depression and pain that held him in its tight grip. She reacted with a woman's instinct, dropping to her knees to gather him into her arms, tugging his face down to rest on her shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. "Oh, Wesley," she whispered. "Please don't cry."

"Fred… I'm sorry…" His words were little more than a broken whisper, but even as he spoke his arms closed around her, tightening until her bruised side ached. She didn't care. Tightening her own grasp on him until she couldn't hold him any tighter, she pressed her face into the warm flesh of his neck and gave him what comfort she could. She could feel the shudders that tore through him, shudders that soon gave way to a renewed sobbing. His depression became a tangible thing to her, so real she could feel it herself. This was a soul deep emotional pain and she wondered at the true cause of it, for the events between them at the hotel couldn't have caused this much pain.

"I'll be all right," he murmured, but didn't loosen his hold on her. When he lay back on the floor, Fred let him pull her with him, let him hold her as tightly as he wanted against him and hide his face in her shoulder. She forgot completely about needing to return to the hotel, forgot that she had only come to ask him to return to work and let him know that it hadn't been his fault. She forgot everything except the man who held her with such desperation. Her fingers found their way into his hair and stroked through it, telling him by touch alone that she cared.

How much time passed, neither of them could have said; however, he finally eased his hold on her. Fred immediately loosened her hold on him, but found herself hoping that he wouldn't pull away from her. Not just yet. It felt so good to lie like this, to be held so close to him. She might never have this chance again, to be this close to Wesley, and she wasn't ready lose the feeling. Wes stirred and Fred closed her eyes when he shifted against her, biting back her protest when she thought he was going to release her. But he didn't. A soft sigh escaped her, a heavy sound, as he changed the way he held her against him. Content that he wasn't going to let her go just yet, she unconsciously snuggled closer.

Wes shifted again, rolling onto his back and carrying her with him so that she lay atop him. In that moment, the whole nature of their embrace changed. Fred's eyes snapped open and she found herself staring down into eyes the color of stormy Texas skies. He didn't say anything, not a word, yet she suddenly felt his hands in her hair, tugging gently on the scrunchy in it. Soon he was tossing it away and her hair was free, falling in heavy waves about her face. He stroked his fingers through her soft and silky hair, burrowing into it. She was warm, soft and alive. He needed that, desperately.

The feeling of his fingers in her hair sent shivers through Fred, running down her spine to settle in her belly. Intellectually, she knew that she should pull away, end what was developing between them; however, her body was too busy noting the feel of Wesley sprawled beneath her. She'd never been this close to a man before and her nerves were taking a sensuous inventory awakening senses that she had never known that she had. Awareness burned through her, making her want to rub against him like a cat to ease the developing ache within her body. Common sense dictated that she should get out of this position, escape his apartment and return to the solitary confines of her lonely room at the Hyperion; yet common sense fled before the onslaught of desire that began to consume her. Passion, never before experienced, made her a prisoner to her senses, to Wesley, paralyzing her will and thus, she stayed.

"Beautiful," Wes whispered, "You are so very beautiful." He continued stroking her hair with his fingers, his hands occasionally tangling in the strands to tug gently.

She couldn't answer for his touch had deprived her of speech, the only sound that she could make was a whimper of pure pleasure. To hid it, she lowered her face to his, kissing him gently, softly. She lifted her lips from his, again staring into his intense gaze.

He pulled her back down to him for a soft wet kiss. "Fred, let me," he purred roughly against her mouth, "God, Winifred, please…" He never completed the thought because her lips parted, opening beneath his as if his will was hers. She knew in some dark well-hidden corner of her heart that he was using passion to exorcise his demons, that he was burying the depression in the pleasure. Yet even this understanding failed to restore her good sense, she needed him… wanted him… and didn't care about the reasons or motives, just the pleasure. She needed to feel his hunger, his need, needed to know how it felt be desired.

His kiss deepened, his tongue stroking hers as if maybe, just maybe, he could find complete satisfaction in that kiss. Never in her entire life had Fred dreamed that a kiss could be so arousing, passionate, intimate, or that an action bordering on violence could be this erotic. That edge of violence reminded her of the kiss he'd given her at the hotel, of the dark desire in his eyes in that moment. A whimper escaped her as she reciprocated in the kiss, giving back as much as she received. Innocent, Fred didn't understand the symbolism of her response, only knew that she wanted him to feel the same desire she did.

Wes was definitely feeling, a deep upwelling of desire that he hadn't felt in nearly a year. Some remnant of his gentlemanly upbringing tried to rear its head, reminding him of the events just days earlier and of her innocence, yet he ruthlessly squashed it and when Fred whimpered, pressing closer, his few good intentions went out the window anyway. She wanted this as much as he did and that was enough for now. "God, Fred," he purred roughly, breaking the kiss, but holding her close against him.

Her hands had been kneading his chest during the kiss making him want her hands on his bare skin. "Touch me Fred," he murmured, releasing her long enough to tug off his shirts. Tossing them away, he wrapped his arms back around her, his hands again burying themselves in her hair.

She raised her head a bit, brown eyes dazed and sleepy. "Touch you?" she repeated, softly. The mere thought made everything inside her clench tightly.

"I need to feel your hands on me."

She drew in a sharp breath and lowered her gaze to him, breathing, "Yes… oh yes." Without further hesitation, she reached out and resting her palms on his chest began gently stroking his skin, unleashing a deep purr of pleasure from him. It felt so good to touch him. Not waiting for him to ask about it, Fred tugged off her sweater jacket tossing it across the room to join his shirt.

"Your shirt, Fred. Take it off." The purred command sent a jolt of excitement racing through her that turned her insides to mush. She trembled and blushed, just staring at him, making him wonder if his one-time thought that she was a virgin was true. "Fred," he murmured, before cursing softly, rolling them over so that their positions were reversed. Fred now lay on her back on the cool wood floor, looking up at Wes who propped himself on one elbow and held her in place by simply resting his thigh over hers.

Looking down into her flushed and confused face, he felt as bad as he had before she'd arrived at his door. Gently, he touched her cheek, brushing her hair back out of her eyes. Fred's blush deepened and her gaze lowered, only to jerk quickly back to his face. Watching her, Wes was alert to any tiny sign that she wanted him and Fred was practically broadcasting. Her eyes strayed to his chest again and she licked her upper lip with an easy sensuality that threw him almost instantly into the depths of mindless lust.

"Fred?" His voice was a rich soft purr, husky and deep, and went straight through her. Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes drifted up from his chest to his face. She didn't feel afraid, just achy and wanting. All her awareness was focused on the growing ache, the heady feel of his touch. "I swear I'll never hurt you…" He barely breathed as he found her mouth with his own, brushing a light persuasive kiss there, "say it's alright, that you want me."

"Yes," she breathed, arching up to kiss him. He needed to forget the pain, the memories, and she needed to be his. Wes deepened the kiss, making her feel as if he couldn't get enough of the taste of her. She never quite knew when she arched her hips into him, rocking against him. It wasn't much of a movement, but it drew a deep groan from Wes.

He lifted his head, looking down at her with sleepy, lust filled eyes. Shifting, he released her, rising to his knees. He slipped one arm beneath her neck and the other under her knees, rising to his feet with her cradled in his arms. He moved through the apartment, pausing on occasion to steal kisses, until he reached his bedroom. Laying Fred on his bed, he immediately recreated their position from the floor, kissing her just as passionately as he had then all the while spreading her hair around her on the pillows. His hand soon slipped from her hair over her shoulder to capture her breast through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Her reaction was instantaneous, arching toward him and whimpering softly. "Yes, Fred. Let me hear it, love."

He made her feel like she was doing something wonderful for him when he was the one doing so for her. She had never dreamed that a simple touch could feel so good, even through the layers of fabric separating his hand from her skin. Wes' fingers found her hardening nipple, stroking back and forth across it until she was writhing against him.

Fred wanted more than to just feel what he was doing to her, but to make him feel just as good. To that end, she reached up and tunneled her fingers into the soft silky strands of his hair. She allowed her hands to drift over him, reveling in the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands, until her fingers accidentally grazed one of his nipples. He caught his breath in response to that innocent touch, shuddering when she followed it with a more deliberate one.

Wes groaned, his hand releasing her breast to reach for the hem of her shirt. Dragging his other hand from her hair, he tugged the shirt off, throwing it onto the floor beside the bed. She tore her gaze from watching her hands explore Wes' skin to watch as he reached for the front clasp of her bra, flipping it open. Her eyes closed again as he stared down at her newly exposed skin. Wes traced a finger over her breast, outlining her nipple, delighting in the soft cry she gave in response. Leaning over her, he repeated the gesture with his tongue, feeling her shiver in response to his teasing.

Fred buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her breast, caught and captured by the pleasure that he was evoking in her. Whimpering and writhing under his touch, Fred banished all thought, concentrating on the feelings instead. She moaned, soft and low, arching into his body as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Wes reveled in her response, in the joy of awakening her to sensual delight, the pleasure her response drew forth in him. He switched his attention to her other breast, giving it the same treatment as the first. Soon he had her panting for breath, arching repeatedly into him in search of the release her body craved. His hands tugged on her jeans, stripping them and her panties off her, leaving her nude beneath his hungry gaze. He trailed his gaze over her, from her deep brown eyes to her small pert breasts to her narrow hips and long legs.

She whimpered, feeling abandoned, when he rose from the bed to strip off his remaining clothes. A tiny whispering voice tried to tell Fred to rise and get out of there… Now. Yet her body rebelled against that voice, her arms rising toward him as he stalked toward her, hunger and lust reflected in his expression and eyes. She knew in that instant, as he rested one knee on the edge of the bed before joining her, that it was possible for a woman, with trust and love, to endow a man with forgetfulness and healing with the gift of her body, give him the knowledge that someone truly cared and trusted him, to guard her man from the cruelties of life. "It's alright, Wesley. Come to me."

Fred's softly spoken request penetrated Wes' mind just enough for him to gather a firm grasp on the few remaining strands of his control. He felt her wrap her arms around him, dragging him to her for a deep passionate kiss. She dragged her nails across his skin, arching into him, and making a mockery of Wes' determination to not rush things, to insure that she came with him every step of the way.

His hands were rough as they traced over her, impatient with his need for her. She didn't care though for his impatience increased her own need, made her feel wanted, and there was nothing so heady and arousing as to be wanted with such desperation. Fred's thoughts vaporized when his fingers began tracing the slick folds of her. She was soon arching against him, moaning and whimpering incoherently.

Wes didn't say anything, just chuckled darkly and closed his mouth over her breast. His fingers continued to stroke her soft flesh, to delve within her, testing both her readiness and her inexperience.

Fred moaned again, becoming a prisoner of the pleasure he was giving her. Pleasure that sparked and splintered in her, her insides winding tighter and tighter as he suckled on her. And his fingers were wicked, teaching her hungers… needs… wants… things beyond her imagination. When he knelt between her legs, she had long since forgotten that this was for him, all she knew was that she had to have him. She felt him pull his hand away from her, reaching up to tangle his fingers with hers.

Her shocked gasp, only a bare edge away from a scream, echoed through the quiet room. Wes felt her force herself to relax beneath him, to not tense as he took her. He fought to keep hold of the remnants of his control, yet the feel of the heat of her wrapped so tightly around him was ruining that. He released her hands, lowering his head to kiss her again, trailing his kisses along her jaw to nuzzle her neck. Her hands came up to clutch at him, tangling in his hair to hold him close.

"It's alright, Wes," Fred's voice was a barely audible whisper in his ear and she punctuated the quiet words with a soft kiss to the side of his neck. "Please, Wesley. I need…"

"Shh…" Wes murmured, slipping his own arms around her as he rocked against her, soon feeling her rising to meet his rhythm. Soon she was whimpering, writhing against him, her voice breaking on short gasping cries. He could feel her nails digging into his skin and dragging a groan from him. He shifted slightly, freeing one hand that he slipped between them to touch her again, drawing a sharp cry from her.

"Scream for me, love. Let me hear it, Fred, scream." Wes gasped against Fred's skin, feeling the tension in her body. She arched against him, flinging her head back as her hands tightened their hold on him. Fred wrapped herself around him, coming apart in his arms, doing just what he'd asked of her, screaming.

"Wes… Wesley!"

Fred promised herself that she would never forget this moment, the sight of Wes lost to the pleasure she had given him, the choked off cry of her name muffled by her hair. No, she wouldn't forget the feel of him in her arms as, spent, he collapsed against her, panting softly in her ear, his fingers still tangled in the waves of her hair. But most of all, she would never forget the moment that she realized that she loved him.

The pale morning light drifting in the window woke Wesley. He shifted slightly, hoping to get more sleep when a soft protest finished waking him. "Winifred?" he thought, then turned onto his side and propped himself up on one arm, gazing down at the woman curled on her side next to him, "My Winifred." He lay there for a short time, basking in her presence and the soft sound of her breathing, just watching her.

A glance at the bedside clock confirmed that he had time to get cleaned up and ready for the day. He even had enough time to treat her to breakfast in bed, yet he didn't want to leave Fred. He moved slowly, cautiously, creeping off the bed. "She needs to sleep. I wore her out," he chuckled softly at the thought, quietly gathering up suitable attire for the day and slipped out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

A short time later, Wes was leaning against his kitchen counter, his hands busy arranging on a tray the things he'd snuck out of the apartment for, while his mind was replaying the previous night in vivid detail. The memories were so arousing, so tempting, that all he wanted was to strip off his clothes and wake her with soft caresses and kisses. Lifting the tray, Wes quietly crossed the room and carefully opened the bedroom door. It swung open, giving him a beautiful view of Fred laying on her side, hair in sleep tangles around her. He crossed the room, carefully avoiding the mess of their clothes on the floor and set the tray on the small bedside table.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Wes lifted the pale pink-white rose from the small vase on the tray. He leaned over her, trailing the petals of the rose over her skin, watching her shift in her sleep, turning over onto her back. Wes smiled, rubbing the petals across her lips watching her eyes sleepily open. Lifting the flower, he leaned over her and brushed his lips across hers. "Good morning, my love," he murmured as he lifted his head.

Fred flushed, then smiled up at Wes, "Mornin'." She shifted her attention to his hand, still holding the rose. "What's that?"

His smile deepened, lighting his blue eyes, "Something I got for you." He reached over, slipping the flower into the small vase on the tray. "Though I must admit, it pales in comparison to you." He chuckled softly when she blushed again. "Fred…" He trailed off when she reached out a hand to stroke his cheek.

"Shh, Wes," Fred caressed him gently. "I know. I…" She ducked her head, hiding her face beneath the tangled waves of her hair. She tried to hide the fact that she was on the verge of tears, but felt his hand brush her hair back.

"Don't cry," Wes gathered Fred against him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." Wes felt her tense in his arms for a brief moment before suddenly relaxing into him. He held her loosely, his hands stroking her hair while he whispered softly in her ear, "You are so precious, so beautiful. I should have sent you away yesterday, but I couldn't. I need you, Fred. So very, very much."

"Do you mean it?" Fred murmured softly, "Truly, Wes, do you mean it?" She pulled back out of his arms to look at him. Her eyes locked on his, searching their depths, hoping that the previous night meant as much to him as it did to her.

"Always," He tangled his hands in her hair, holding her still for him to kiss her, allowing all his feelings for her to be reflected in that kiss. Releasing her, he sighed softly, "I brought you breakfast." He smiled at her, releasing her to rise off the bed and she whimpered when he moved away. Wes rose, crossing the bedroom to the dresser to retrieve his hairbrush, then returned to the bed. He sat down, leaning back against the headboard, and pulled her back towards him. Wes began carefully stroking the brush through Fred's hair, carefully freeing the tangles.

Fred sighed, shifting her attention to the bedside table to admire the rose he'd gotten her before casting her gaze over the tray. He had to have snuck out while she slept for the tray held blueberry muffins and coffee. She reached across the bed to pick up one of the muffins, breaking off a piece to nibble on it, thinking. Everything had changed yet again with his admission that he needed her, breaking her resolve to leave and hide those memories in her heart.

Fred sighed again, the feel of Wes stroking that brush through her hair was bringing back all the fluttering tension of the previous night. She set aside the muffin, releasing a sighing moan as she luxuriated under that touch. She wanted him to touch her like he had the night before, but couldn't ask. She didn't know how to ask, how to tell him what she felt, especially when she didn't know what his feelings for her were, aside from needing her.

"Like this?" Wes asked quietly, continuing to stroke the brush through her hair though he'd long since removed all the knots. He felt her squirm and laid the brush on the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around her to rest his cheek on the top of her head. He stroked her bare skin with his hands, needing to touch her, hold her, and somehow let her know just how very important she was to him. Wes tugged Fred back against his chest, brushing her hair over her shoulder to expose the soft skin of her neck to him. Nuzzling against her skin, reveling in the scent of her, he pressed a gentle kiss behind her ear before beginning to speak in a soft, husky whisper. "Do you truly know how important you are to me? How precious a memory last night will become? The first of many I hope. I do love you. I have for quite some time."

Fred drew in a sharp shocked breath first from his kiss and then again when he began speaking. She squirmed in his arms, twisting about until she was facing him, and draped her arms around his neck. "Wesley?" She asked softly, waiting until he met her gaze. "I love you too," she punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss that he quickly deepened, pulling away when they were both breathless.

Wes tangled his hands in her hair, smiling at her sleepy heavy-lidded expression, "Stay with me?" When she nodded, he pulled her into another kiss, breaking it only when she whimpered softly.

"Always, Wesley. Always." She murmured, curling into his arms.

~Fin~