A/N: After mapping out the rest of the story, there's no slash, just extreme bromance in which you can squint at and interpret in anyway you'd like.
Thanks for reading, reviewing, faving, and following! It means a lot :D.
*End of this chapter includes a preview of a upcoming high school Common Law AU fic w/ slash, no smut.
Broken Glass
Chapter 2
*Note, bold text = writing.
A week has passed since the incident took place, and Wes had been denying all guest visitation requests, all except one. He needed silence, and alone time, just another minute to focus on the white walls that surrounded him. He tapped the finger monitor clipped to his finger as he laid flatly, finally able to breath without the assists of a mask or nostril tubes, taking in the depressing hospital air and exhaling in one quick puff. He sighed a shaky breath, as his heart began to quicken. The beeping emitted more rapidly, as his sharp sense of hearing heard the door knob turn from the other side.
"Wes?" A sweet and concerned voice gently spoke, with a soft touch that the ex-lawyer had learned to adore. "How are you?"
Wes turned to Alex, and exhaled sharply, clearing his sore throat as he did. It's just Alex. He accepted the notepad handed to him with unsteady hands and reached wearingly for the pen on his nightstand.
Hey.
"Voice still?"
Yeah.
She nodded sadly. Travis had explained the condition they had found her ex-husband in, and her heart sank with every detail given. A rape kit had been performed shortly after Wes had been sedated and the foreign DNA found was being run through the criminal database. She could still see a faint bruise crawl up the blonde's collar bone, but most of the cuts had already begun to heal neatly. Though, she could only fear for the damage done mentally, and the way Wes stared blankly with soulless eyes made her mind cringe with sadness.
Wes forced an exasperated smile, one that the beautiful woman before him returned less gratefully.
"Wes?" Another voice chimed through the room, and Wes gave Alex the most confused look.
You brought Travis?
She sighed, replying as if she had no choice. "He wanted to come. You shutting yourself out from everyone isn't healthy. I couldn't say no, Wes." She stroked a loving hand against his smooth cheek and he fell into the touch, intentionally wiping away a tear that built up with her skin.
Alex peered into Wes' quickly masked gaze, and nodded approvingly as he returned with the same motion. She waved her hand towards the dark man standing near the doors, and his unforgotten partner entered, closing the door noiselessly behind him.
Travis pulled up a seat next to Wes' bedside, being sure to give his partner a fair distance. "How you doing man?"
I'm doing fine.
"The doctors said you can leave today."
That seemed to have caught Wes' attention fully and his dead eyes shot up with life.
Travis chuckled, "thought you'd like to hear that. I already signed you out. Wheelchair's waiting for you outside, brought you a spare suit too."
Wheelchair? I can walk fine now.
"Hospital policies."
Wes grumbled and grabbed the bag his partner handed to him. Unclipping the device from his finger, he strode over to the small, adjoining restroom and locked the door, quickly looking at himself in the mirror. Lifting his neck, he took in the fading bruise and traced shaking fingers over the injury. Air suddenly left his lungs, and he choked to get the air back inside.
He thickly gulped as he pulled the hospital gown over his body and his knees buckled under him. He quickly grabbed onto the porcelain sink with bandaged finger tips for support. Most of his cuts had been patched, but he could still see splotches of purple and blue shades slip through from the wrappings.
Something inside him began to pick at his nerve, and he turned the facet on at the hottest temperature it would provide. Closing his eyes from the mental pain, he pushed his hands under the scorching water and rubbed them together. The wrappings on his fingers began to peel off but Wes continued. With the bar of soap near by, he pressed it against his skin and rubbed it fiercely, his breathing turning into a rapid mess.
All he could feel was hot breaths in the nape of his neck and the taste of scotch in his mouth. He brought a handful of water and smeared it into his face, inhaling with difficulty from his mouth while exhaling as harshly.
He felt dirty, used, and he still remembered. Every little detail, the way his assaulter's fingers traced the contours of his hips…
Wes scratched with nail-less fingers at his bare skin, pulling off the bandage that wrapped around his waist, and he spun around to his right when he felt the thick air skim the edges of his shoulder. He heard the man's voice call out to him.
Damn, you're fine…
His mind repeated key words over and over, five times in his mind to be exact before moving to the next solid scene that twisted nightmarishly in his memory.
Shut up.
Cunt.
Shut up.
Fag.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Five times, he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally. Five times he shouted at himself mentally.
"Wes? You done?"
His head snapped up and he looked around at tile walls and dim lighting. He quickly grabbed the suit in the bag and put on a pair of boxers, along with the rest of his attire, while trying to calm himself down. Fixing the water's temperature, he splashed a chilling amount onto his face before turning the facet off, and looked at himself with false confidence along with a false sigh of reassurance.
Get it together.
He opened the door after taking a deep breath and nodded at his friends.
What are we doing now?
"Wes, what happened to your bandages?" Alex asked as she noticed the missing wrappings from his finger tips.
They were itchy.
Travis shrugged with friendly intentions and a smug look on his face, he spoke, "Well, we have nothing assigned for now. Captain wants us to go to the therapy tomorrow morning, and have a day off before working on any cases."
Wes hid the grateful smile. He was still sore, and was looking forward to a day of relaxation and maybe even a small stack of paperwork. He just didn't want to sit around and be unproductive, he had to keep his mind going, mind going, and going, and going, to forget, to not remember, had to keep the mind going…
Wait. Why am I wearing my suit? Wes quickly scribbled, mouth slightly agape.
"Isn't that what you always wear?"
Wes tore the page out of his notepad and crumpled it into a ball before throwing it as his partner. He strode out and ignored the wheelchair waiting for him, that, until Travis reminded him.
"Hospital policies, Wes." Travis reminded tauntingly, pointing at the chair.
Annoyed, the blond sat down grudgingly, arms on the arm rests and feet impatiently pushed against the support. He waited as Travis began to push him outside and he began to tear out writing filled pages from his notepad. He crumbled the used sheets of paper and started throwing it behind him, intentionally pelting his partner with paper balls.
Travis reached over and grabbed the notepad away, and Wes made an audible noise as he stubbornly pouted, crossing his legs in slight defiance.
After successfully pulling out of the hospital, Wes stood up and stretched his arms fully. He took in a breath of fresh air and smiled an appreciative look towards the sky. It was a slightly cloudy day, but the sun still shone when the clouds blew through the wind; he didn't realize how much he missed being outside.
"They had to take your car in for investigation." Travis explained as he clasped a hand over his partner's shoulder.
Wes spun around alert, and took back the notepad from Travis' other hand. Don't touch me. He wrote with a glare. Just take me home.
CLCLCLCLCL
It took 15 minutes for Wes to calmly take a seat behind Travis on his motorcycle, and about half the time for them to reach the door of familiar hotel. Alex would have volunteered to drive Wes back to his room, but she had an urgent call from her boss.
Travis fished out the keycard from Wes' wallet, opening the door before handing Wes back his belongings.
Wes easily plopped down onto the couch, flipping towards a news station and leaned his neck back, relaxed. The two sat in silence for what felt like en eternity, and his partner shifted uneasily, shrugging his shoulders in a conversation starting manner.
"So…" Travis began. "About last week."
What about it?
Travis inwardly sighed as he immediately read his partner's stubborn expression. "Your assault, do you wanna' talk about it?"
No
"It's sometimes best to talk about it instead of bottling it up," Travis began, "let someone know what you're thinking, how you feel."
Did Dr. Ryan tell you that? I'm fine Travis, I was attacked. There's NOTHING to talk about. Wes made a multiple messy underlines beneath "nothing," while adding an intimidating glare to make his statement clear.
"If you say so…" He drawled off, not ready to give up just yet. Though, he knew Wes would only continue to avoid the subject, and toss it aside until he'd kill himself with it. So, he decided to drop the topic until another time. Maybe tomorrow's therapy session will help Wes open up a bit.
Wes knew the situation. Alex knew, the Captain knew, and Travis knew, but he wished no one knew. The memory was burned deeply into his mind, like an engraving on a piece of wood running inches in, the way in which damage couldn't be reversed. Nothing could fix it, and nothing could fill it, that was something Wes was sure of. He exhaled through thinly pressed lips, taking deep breaths through five second intervals.
It was something he would have to die with, and something he would have to live with.
If, he could live through it.
He straightened his body, spine pressed against the cushiony backing of the couch and felt his head lean forward, drooping downwards as he began to grow sleepy. There was nothing to watch, no cases to work on, though he itched to be doing something. He was only seconds away to walking towards the kitchen to cook, until Travis' phone buzzed, and Wes glanced over curiously from his drowsy state.
"Captain?" Travis asked after reading the I.D. "No way."
Wes looked up, eyes peeled open and quickly grabbed his notepad, scribbling in the big letters. WHAT?
"That's great!"
Wes pushed the notepad closer to his partner after receiving no response.
Travis looked over to Wes, skimming the four letter word briefly. "They got a match on the DNA."
Tell him we'll be down there as soon as possible.
With his hand pressed against the phone, Travis told Wes, "You're not well enough to be working cases."
I think I know what I'm capable of.
The stubborn look again.
The man knew if he didn't take his partner down to the station, Wes would figure out a way to get there himself. "Captain, we'll be there in 20 minutes." He hung up his phone before their superior could protest and stood from the couch. "Come, let's go princess."
To be continued.
PREVIEW TO MONOPOLY MONEY
AU! Wes Mitchell, youngest part-time detective, has been enrolled in a public high school, a place where he feels he doesn't belong. Travis Marks, one of the most popular kids in the school has been dared to date the loner of the century for amusement of the crowd, but unknowingly, falls for the mysterious boy.
Warnings: Abuse
Monopoly Money
Chapter 1 [PREVIEW]
Wes Mitchell grumbled as he felt a crumpled ball of aluminum thwack the back of his head, but he didn't bother to turn around. He sat in the center of the lunch room, and a radius of nothing formed around him, as if his presence had killed off everyone around him. Wes had only attended the school for less than a week, but the student body had already decided how they would play him in their little world.
The outcast.
Though, isolated, he could always feel the eyes of the students at the "popular" table stare at him with curiosity. It made him feel uncomfortable as he unwrapped his sandwich, taking a bite into sticky peanut butter.
Food was immediately snatched from his fingertips, and waved above his head, and he stared up with a cold glare. "Give it back Owen." He grumbled.
"Didn't think the queer would pay enough attention to my name during role call." The taller boy snickered. "What, you into me now?"
Wes wasn't going to play his game. He uncapped his water bottle, taking a swig before that was swatted out of his hands and stood up to leave the radius. His shoulder was pulled back and his body was immediately swung around. A thick fist connected to the corner of his eye, and he fell over, pressing his hand gently to his face.
"Get away from him!" Another voice screamed throughout the mess.
Wes looked up, surprised to see the only decent face in the whole school. Alex had warmed up to him the second he entered class when no one else would. It seemed that the student body had enough respect for their president to not bring her down to the treatment they gave Wes, but that was what everyone else feared. However, he did make a few acquaintances in his art class; the girls who knew Wes knew he wasn't the type to try and get under their skirts.
Owen immediately ceased his actions, and a few other teenagers from the in-crowd began to swarm through.
"I don't see why you defend him," Andrew bluntly proclaimed, hands crossed defensively across his chest.
"I heard he slept with the principal to get in cause other schools wouldn't accept him." Another one continued.
Alex made no comment to the levels of stupidity as she grabbed Wes softly by his arm and pulled him back up to his feet. "Travis call off your jerks."
"They're just having fun." Travis lied, trying to keep up a façade he held for so long. The only way to not be socially crushed was to make it to the top, and that was exactly what he did. But the glare Alex gave him made him bite back his tongue, and he quickly called off his boys.
"Let's get an ice-pack for that eye of yours." She whispered, but Wes pulled away the second he stood up.
"I don't need your pity." He spat, as he turned around and jolted out of the cafeteria as quickly as he could.
"Hope you're proud of yourselves. Owen, office." Alex hissed as she pulled the larger boy by his forearm, not caring if her untrimmed fingernails cut his skin.
Travis felt a pang of guilt as high-fives were passed around by his boys. He half-heartedly returned each one and stared off to the exit where Wes had run off to, wondering what the boy could be doing. He looked down, seeing that the blonde teenager had forgotten his backpack at the lunch table. Travis picked up the loner's belongings and decided he could possibly return it when he sees the kid in their classes.