Fred alternates between insisting that her paper isn't very important, and explaining that it was her childhood dream to "discover some revolutionary concept." She goes on and on and talks about Pylea a little for anyone coming in late, and finally asks if they'll all come to see her speak. Cary sneers, and Gunn enthuses, "Cheering you on! Right?" Resounding agreement fails to occur. Angel stares into space, and Cary explains that Angel's brooding about Connor's latest visit. Fred tries to reassure Angel that Cordy will come back and "it'll all work out for the best." She says that if she hadn't been sucked into Pylea, she wouldn't have worked out "[her] string compactification theory." It's not a good sign that they keep mentioning Pylea in every other sentence. Gunn agrees, noting, "Strings need...to compactify." Is it just me, or are they starting to write Gunn as if he's Xander? I don't approve of that at all.

Shut up, Wesley. Oh, he isn't saying anything. But I bet he will eventually. Right now he's sitting at home, reading his copy of Modern Physics Review, because his credit cards are maxed out and he can't pay actors to pretend to be his sidekicks anymore. There's an insistent knock at the door, which he finally answers. It's Lilah, holding a big box. Wesley says, "Oh look. A bribe. How thoughtful. "Lilah says it's a gift, and Wesley stops glaring long enough to open it. He pulls out a helmet as Lilah observes, "We seem to be butting heads lately." Wesley says that the helmet must have cost a fortune, and Lilah smirks and doesn't mention that she just snagged it from storage because Wolfram & Hart will never miss it. Instead, she says, "It'll take you hours to thank me properly," and starts cuddling. They kiss long enough to demonstrate that Wesley's a man of no principles. But then he grabs her wrists and pulls away, apologetically explaining that he has to go. He exits after thanking her more sincerely for the gift. Lilah stays behind to tidy up...and to spot the magazine that Wesley was reading. She picks it up and sees Fred's article.

We pan past labeled photos of Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and -- gasp! -- Cordelia's parents! I wonder if those are Charisma Carpenter's folks. The photos are, of course, being captioned and placed on the wall by Cordy in an attempt to jog her memory. I can't believe there's not a picture of Lilah with the label, "Don't believe her lies." Come to think of it, I can't believe Lilah isn't trying to take advantage of Cordy's memory loss to try to befriend her. I guess she's all distracted by Wesley. Which just proves that in the epic battle of good and evil, whichever side isn't saddled with Wesley has the advantage. Cordy finishes putting up a picture of herself and Cary and crosses the room to dig through a box. Connor's mysterious loft has undergone some redecorating in the past week. There's less of a Bates Motel feel now, which is kind of a shame. Cordy calls to Connor, asking why there aren't any photos of Angel in the box. Connor wanders out, fresh from the shower, which is such a shame because his hair's all wet and he's wearing a wifebeater and he actually looks even younger. Like, twelve. My inner teenager just lost interest in him. Connor claims that he didn't see any pictures of Dear Old Dad. Cordy shrugs that off and resumes homemaking. As she bends down to put a cloth over the table, we get a gratuitous Connor's-eye-view of her cleavage. Thanks. Cordy sighs and wonders, "Why does it still feel like something is missing?" Maybe because you're missing your memory? And your hair? Connor has a different idea, and hands Cordelia an axe. He suggests, "Maybe you miss the action, the thrill of the kill. You know you used to be a demon hunter." He offers to help "train" her, and it's a shame that Holtz didn't give him lessons in dating customs. That would have been funny. Imagine Connor running off to jail to ask Mr. Chase's permission to court Cordy. Cordy considers the idea of some training, then nervously asks, "What should I wear?"