The phone rang, and Cordelia hurried over to the desk. There was a slim, tiny chance that it might actually be a client. Maybe one that would even pay them this time, instead of sinking into non-paying denial.

Well, a girl could dream, right?

"Good evening," Cordelia said into the phone. "Angphelele Investigations," she said, garbling the name by flapping her lips with her finger. "We help the helpless, how can we help you?"

"What in God's name is Angphelele?"

Not a client. Wesley. Cordelia bit her lip, trying not to think about their little encounter in her car earlier that evening. After all, Wesley was with Virginia, and Cordelia was with... well, Dennis and a loofah really didn't count as dating. She just didn't have the time for parties these days, and how else was she going to meet cute guys? Especially ones without demon issues.

"Oh, there are just some names I'm not saying at the moment." Cordelia wrote on the corner of a take-out receipt; nothing like itemizing a business expense to make her feel better about their complete lack of income. And if she had learned anything from her parents, it was the importance of IRS-safe paperwork. "Well, what is it, Wesley?"

"Oh, it's... I'm not really feeling that great."

"Well, your guts opened up." Wesley needed to rest, not stress himself out sitting around their depressing, gloomy office. They hadn't ever completely gotten that smell out.

"I'm thinking maybe I'll not come in tomorrow."

"No big deal." Without Wesley or Gunn, the office was going to be awfully quiet tomorrow. And then there was one, she thought. "It's not like they're beating down the door. No, you should stay home, spend time with Virginia."

There was a pause on the line. Cordelia stopped messing with the paperwork. "Wesley?" she asked.

"I..." Wesley began. Then there was another long silence. "Virginia isn't here."

"Why? She have one of those celebrity-filled galas to go to? Not that I'm at all jealous. I mean, who would want to spend their time rubbing elbows with movie stars every weekend? Boooring."

"No, nothing like that," Wesley said.

"You know, if I was her, I would totally not let you out of my sight. I'm surprised she didn't drag you along." Cordelia started doodling on a post-it note: pointy stars and smiley faces. Oh, to be rich and even vaguely famous.

"I don't think I'd be very good company in my condition."

"Yeah, wheelchairs give off too much glare."

Wesley gave a half-hearted chuckle. "I don't think that will be a problem."

"She finally realized you're too much of a dork to be seen in public?"

"We... broke up."

Cordelia grimaced. Awkward. "Oh," she managed. "That's, um... it wasn't because of, you know, tonight, was it? Because if it was, I feel like total demon slime because there was this thing in Sunnydale--"

"No," Wesley interrupted. "It wasn't that."

He paused again, and Cordelia waited for him to speak. She'd put her foot in her mouth enough for one night.

"My being hurt, the danger of our profession... it made her unhappy. I had to choose between her and... our work."

"Oh," Cordelia said. Our work, she thought ruefully. They didn't have any work, not anymore. All they had was her visions, for all the good those did them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Wesley said. "As much as I... I couldn't ask her to stay."

"She should have anyway. What, she thinks this is so easy for us? That it doesn't hurt just as much when..." Cordelia swallowed, unable to finish. "I just can't believe she dumped you like that. You were bleeding!"

"I wouldn't say she dumped me so much as--"

"I have to help hold your guts inside until the doctors can sew you back up again, and I get you home and out of your bloody clothes so she doesn't even have to deal with any of the mess, and she can't handle it? You know, I wasn't going to say anything before, but now? Me and Gunn were with you all the time until you got out of the hospital, but she kept coming up with excuses to not be there. You should have taken her stupid giant bouquets and--"

"Cordelia!"

"Sorry, sorry. I know." Good job, Cordy: make Wesley even more depressed. Soon he'll be moody and brooding, all alone with nothing to do but wonder where he went wrong, deeply bitter over being dumped for some geeky redhead. On second thought, she was probably projecting too much there.

"Don't move," she said.

"What?"

"Stay right there on that couch, buster. I'm coming over, whether you like it or not."

"But I... don't you have plans? I mean, it is a Friday night, I thought perhaps--"

"Please," Cordelia said, rolling her eyes. "Like I have any more of a life than you do?"

"That'd be nice," Wesley said.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't try to stand up or anything until I get there."

Cordelia hung up. She reached for her jacket, then realized it at the bottom of some hospital garbage bag. Oh well, she'd just crank up the heat on the way over.

As she was closing the door behind her, the phone rang. She paused, wondering if she should go pick it up. "Aw, screw it," she muttered, and closed and locked the office door. It was probably just some bill collector, and she had more important things to take care of.

Cordelia didn't bother to knock on Wesley's door, because she had a key and didn't want him to kill himself trying to answer the door. She still couldn't believe that Virginia could just abandon him like that. Talk about cold! Even Xander had tried to get back in her good graces after she'd been impaled because he was off smooching Willow. Not that he deserved a second chance, but at least he acted like he cared.

She strode in to see Wesley lying on the couch, hugging a pillow and watching a rerun of ER.

"Cordelia," Wesley said, looking up at her. He tried on a smile, but she could tell it was an effort.

She stood in front of him and put her hands on her hips. "Do you have some kind of doctor fetish or something?"

Wesley turned back to the TV, mildly affronted. "It's the first episode. Carol just attempted suicide."

"Geez, Wesley. Cheery much?" Cordelia grabbed the remote from his hand and pointed it at the set, flipping through the channels until she found a mindless sitcom rerun. Canned laughter filled the room. Thank God Wesley had cable.

"There. At least this way there'll be something happy around here, even if it is fake." Before Wesley could get a word in, she walked into his kitchen and started making him some tea. That was easy, and she'd had Wesley yell at her for making it wrong enough that she remember how he actually liked it.

She caught herself just in time to not put a half-teaspoon of salt into his cup. Then she found the sugar.

When she came back into the room, Wesley was watching a commercial for fake psychics. Then again, maybe they were legit. But you'd think a real psychic would have better things to do with their powers than talk to lonely people about how someday they'd find love and happiness and win the lottery. For example, winning the lottery themselves.

She put the tea on the small table next to the couch, then lifted up his legs and slid herself under them. She settled herself in, then grabbed the remote again and started flipping.

"Comfortable?" Wesley asked. His eyebrow was arched, which meant he was attempting sarcasm again.

"Drink your tea," she told him.

"Half sugar?"

"Just the way you like it."

Wesley winced as he reached for the teacup. He sipped at it lightly, obviously wary but trying not to show it. When he'd tasted it and hadn't spit it all over the rug, she assumed everything was fine.

"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to come."

"Somebody has to keep an eye on you," Cordelia said. She pressed the channel-up button until she reached a black and white movie. Ooo, Katherine Hepburn. Now there was an actress. She just oozed class.

"Is that Bringing Up Baby?" Wesley asked, perking up. "I've always enjoyed Howard Hawks films. Did you see his version of The Big Sleep?"

"Nah, that film nore stuff's too depressing."

"Noir," Wesley corrected.

"Nore, noir, whatever. I got enough blondes and brooding heroes in my life already."

They watched the movie. Cary Grant tried to coax a dinosaur bone from a terrier. Wesley sipped his tea.

"Did you take your drugs?" Cordelia asked. Wesley nodded abstractly, eyes glued to the screen. Not that he was actually listening. Cordelia pinched his leg.

"Ow!" Wesley looked at her with a wounded expression.

"Drugs?" she asked again.

"What? Yes, I took them. Though if you insist upon pinching me all the time I'll need more sooner rather than later."

"You must be feeling better if you're getting all wordy again. Good." She rubbed his leg soothingly as an apology for the pinching. "Do you want to talk?"

"About your pinching habits? Not particularly."

"No, stupid. I mean, about Virginia."

Wesley was quiet for a moment. He sighed, staring at his empty teacup. "This wasn't the first time she'd expressed concern for my safety. She wasn't prepared for the dangers we encounter."

"The lady who was the main event at a human sacrifice didn't like you fighting demons?"

Wesley shook his head. "I don't think it was that simple. When we started dating, I wasn't... Angel--"

Cordelia coughed.

"Sorry. Angphelele. I was there to support him, out of harm's way, researching. I wasn't out on the streets chasing after zombie policemen. When that changed... she tried to be supportive, but I could see that it bothered her."

Cordelia humphed. "I'm sorry, but didn't she start dating you because she thought you were the big hero?"

Wesley ducked his head. "Perhaps I disappointed her when she found out I could be harmed."

"Hey. If anyone's a disappointment around here, it's Ms I'm-Too-Scared-To-Love."

Wesley didn't respond to that, and for a few minutes they watched the movie. Cary Grant tried to pet a deadly leopard.

"In Sunnydale," Wesley began. "Was I... I mean, I know I wasn't exactly..." He trailed off.

"At least now we know you can actually kiss," Cordelia offered.

"Yes." Wesley smiled weakly. "I was a bit nervous then, I think."

"You were wound so tight I think you strained something. It just wasn't the right time for either of us."

"There was certainly nothing wrong with you," Wesley protested. "A beautiful girl, witty, intelligent..."

Cordelia smiled. "I'm not gonna make you stop if you want to keep going."

"I suppose if I was of any worth at all back then at least I had good taste."

"You weren't all that bad. Okay, maybe you were. But you saved me from the evil Willow. And you had all those nice suits, and that sexy accent."

"I should be grateful, then, that Giles chose to dress down."

Cordelia punched him lightly on the thigh for that. "Oh please. You were way hotter than Giles. I don't want to even think about him kissing."

"Was it... if I hadn't been so at odds with myself I wasn't able to properly kiss a beautiful girl... would things have been different?"

Cordelia considered this. The Wesley of now was so much different than the Wesley of then. So much better. But Wesley had still cared about her and protected her even when he'd been with the Council. "Maybe," she said. "But it's like I said: bad timing. No going back now."

"Is there?" Wesley said. He looked at her, uncertain. "I probably sound like a cad, asking you this. I mean, I didn't... Not because... I'm completely buggering this up, aren't I?"

"If it helps, you're still scoring way better than that first time." Cordelia gave him a comforting smile.

"Wonderful. A step above blithering idiot. I feel much better now."

Cordelia reached over and took his hand, stroking it gently. Wesley wrapped his hand around hers, gripping it tightly. As if as long as he held on to her, no more bad things would happen to them. She realized it was the same way she'd held on to him in the ambulance, to keep him from slipping away. She looked down at their hands, and Wesley's white-knuckled grip. He had such long, beautiful fingers.

"You should," she said. "Feel better, I mean. It's not fair. Nothing is fair, that after everything we've done to help people we're broke and alone and..." she stopped, not wanting to make herself cry. She had to be strong, even if the only person she had left to be strong for was Wesley. He needed her. So she was going to stop sniffling right now, before her mascara started to run.

"Cordelia," Wesley whispered. He tried to sit up, but he gasped in pain and had to lie back against the cushions. "Bloody stupid..." he muttered.

Cordelia sniffled. "I'm so tired of... of everything. Clients, visions, that icky smell that even those scented candles don't hide. I'm sick of hospitals and painkillers and nothing working out the way it's supposed to."

Wesley moved his legs off her lap, trying to sit up again, but Cordelia wasn't going to have any of that. She got up off the couch and knelt down next to him. Wesley smoothed her hair, and she gripped his robe, and then they were hugging tightly, clinging to each other.

Despite the constant danger of their lives, Cordelia felt safe in his arms. She wanted Wesley to feel safe, to be safe, to not have to bleed his life out all over LA because he was trying to protect his friends. Her emotions swelled up inside her, and she couldn't hold them back anymore. Cordelia let herself cry a little, rubbing her eyes into the terrycloth to wipe away the tears. Wesley rocked them back and forth, the motion slow and tender.

"Things are going to get better, Cordelia. For all of us. You'll see." He hushed her, and stroked her hair.

"I never used to worry about anything," Cordelia said. She rested her cheek on Wesley's shoulder, letting his rocking soothe her. "All I cared about was cheerleading and being popular. The visions make me worry about everyone. There's so much pain... and I can't even get a vision to keep you safe. The stupid Powers don't even care that you almost died! What's the point... what's the point in even having them if I can't..."

Cordelia drew back, needing to look at him. Wesley's eyes were teary behind his glasses. She stroked his cheek with her hand and he leaned into it, closing his eyes as he did. She moved her fingers to rest over his lips, tracing the outline of his mouth. His lips parted slightly, moving forward with the lightest of kisses against her fingers. Her fingers slid down, pressing against his lower lip, and he kissed them again, a little stronger.

His eyes were still closed. Cordelia dropped her hand and pressed her lips against his, and kissed him. A whimper of surprise escaped him, and she redoubled her efforts. Suddenly he was kissing back, passionate and desperate and deep.

When they finally stopped, Cordelia drew back, a little breathless. Wesley's lips were reddened, and his cheeks flushed pink. He looked more alive than he had in weeks.

"Fourth time's the charm," she said, and smiled at him. He smiled back, looking adorably dazed.

Cordelia's knees started to ache from kneeling, so she stood, then held out her hands. "Come on, up," she said.

"Up?" Wesley asked.

"Your floor is too hard and your couch is the wrong shape. Up." She helped Wesley sit upright, then gave him a moment to adjust while she found his wheelchair. He made a face when she brought it over.

"I'm so not hauling you all the way to your bed," Cordelia said. "Get in."

Wesley sighed and relented. Cordelia helped him into the chair, then wheeled him into the bedroom. With a minimum of wincing they got him settled into bed. When Cordelia had finished tucking him in, he tried to sit up, pushing himself up on his elbows.

Cordelia gently pushed him back down. "Stay."

She parked the chair in the corner and then went back to the living room. Cary Grant was standing on top of a dinosaur, shouting frantically at Katherine Hepburn. She hit the power button and he disappeared in a blink of phosphor dots. Cordelia checked the locks, then turned out the lights and went back to the bedroom. Wesley was staring out his window, lost in thought.

Cordelia toed off her shoes and slipped under the covers. Before Wesley could say anything she spooned up alongside him and rested her head on his chest. She wrapped an arm around him, snuggled against him, and felt him relax.

"Well, this is nice," he said. He turned on his side as much as was comfortable and put an arm around Cordelia. He touched her, gently, stroking her back and arm. Their legs twined together as they cuddled.

Cordelia slid up just enough so she could kiss him again. He felt so good around her, strong and warm. She had to remind herself to be gentle with him, that he was hurt from more than just the gunshot wound.

"I can't help but wonder if I should still be counting," he said, nuzzling her cheek. "Perhaps I'm going to wake up tomorrow on the couch and all of this will have been no more than a lovely dream."

"So I'm your dream woman, huh? You really know how to flatter a girl," she teased.

"Yes," Wesley said. He closed his eyes, and rested his forehead against Cordelia's. For a moment she stared at his long lashes, the lines of his face. But as the warmth of his touch surrounded her, she found her own eyes closing. She breathed deeply. The sharp smells of the hospital were faded now, and she took in Wesley's scent, the subtle musk underneath the traces of soap, from when she'd helped him wash off the blood before Virginia arrived. Good riddance, she thought, holding Wesley a little bit closer.

They drifted off to sleep together. And when, hours later, they woke to a pounding on the door, it was together that they faced Angel.