Author's Notes: Yeah. Long wait. Sorry. Hopefully it's worth it. Leave me a review and let me know. Also, be warned - Mom Mitchell shows up at long last in this chapter. There's also some swearing and suggestive language.
"Wow."
Wes's face remained buried in his hands, the lone beer on the table in front of him mostly untouched. His hands were just settling enough to keep the bottle from clanking against his teeth.
"I mean…just wow."
"Could you possibly offer some greater words of wisdom than just 'wow'?" Wes snapped.
Travis thought for a moment before sipping his own drink. "I think it conveys the awe inspiring awesomeness of the guts it took to do that to your father. And until a better word is invented, 'wow' is what I will be sticking with."
"I pissed off a psychopathic megalomaniac. I need help, Travis. Not appreciation."
"I don't do spur of the moment plans. I'm waiting for inspiration to hit me."
Wes lowered his hands to just below his eyes so Travis could see the glare he was shooting at him.
"Okay, fine. I do pretty much specialize in spur of the moment plans. But you didn't like my last suggestion, so now I have to come up with a new one. One that apparently can't involve an empty well, a shovel, and a set of custom made cement shoes."
"We're not killing him, or anyone else for that matter," Wes reprimanded, more tired than biting. He really didn't actually want his father dead. He just wanted to pretend none of this was happening. He'd reached a point of such complete and total apathy that he just didn't have the energy to come up with a plan. He just wanted his father to go away. If he could die on his own, though, Wes couldn't say he'd be the least bit disappointed.
Travis huffed. "Fine. But you're the one who keeps saying we can't do anything to him legally, except file harassment charges, and if you haven't done that already, I'm assuming you have a reason for it. None that I approve of."
"You don't even know why," Wes said. He leaned back against the booth they were currently occupying. The bar was about half empty, but it was also only about four in the afternoon.
"The sheer fact that you haven't means I don't approve. Do you even have an end game? Other than waiting for him to die?" Travis asked.
Wes shrugged.
Travis leaned forwards, resting his folded arms on the table. "Look, man. I'm really beginning to worry about your dad. And your mom."
Wes scowled at him, but refused to comment.
"You're not sleeping. You're not eating. More importantly, your father is becoming a very desperate man. Desperate people do desperate things. I don't want the next phone call I get from you being instructions how to find you in a seedy motel in a tub of ice, and or worse, a phone call from the morgue."
"My dad isn't going to kill me," Wes said, but he didn't sound all that confident in his answer. "I can deal with him."
Travis slammed his hand down on the table, making Wes and everyone else in the bar jump. "The hell you can!" he shouted. He glanced around, smiling apologetically to the other patrons. "Sorry. Discussing the Dodgers in the play offs."
There was a mumbled assent from the others, and they went back to their own conversations.
Travis glared at his partner, noting the exhaustion across every feature. His shoulders slumped, his hair looked scruffy and his eyes had taken on a sunken, corpse like appearance. He'd lost weight he could ill afford to lose, and instead of being a healthy slim, he was leaning more towards hollow.
"You think you can handle him. Or, you know what, maybe you can. But you sure as hell aren't right now. You don't need to do this by yourself, Wes. You have me, you have the precinct…I mean, Jonelle would probably love to have your father on her table. But even the Lone Ranger had Tonto. Stop pretending like you have to go this alone because you don't."
Wes refused to meet his eyes, but Travis clung to the hope he was paying attention and actually listening.
Wes sighed, and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, his phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he frowned, and held it up to his ear.
"Alex?"
Travis polished off the rest of his beer, and left a few bucks on the table to cover both their drinks. Wes was a decidedly cheap date.
"Alex, what? Slow down. Now? Yeah, I can swing by the house. I have Travis with me though, is that an issue? All right. Okay. We'll be right over."
"What'd she want?" Travis asked. "And why are we going to visit?"
"She didn't say, but she sounded upset. Like 'someone died' upset. Let's go," Wes said, standing and already heading for the door.
Travis shook his head, and wondered not for the first, and likely not the last, if Alex knew what she'd given up on when she divorced Wes.
"Don't think you having to save a damsel in distress is going to get you out of this conversation!" he called after his partner.
Travis knocked, just out of habit and shrugged when Wes raised his eyebrow at him.
"Sorry, man. But it is her house instead of yours."
"So you'll knock when she owns it, but not when I owned it?" Wes asked.
"We're partners! That transcends the need to knock!"
Before Wes could reply, the door swung open to reveal Alex, smiling in that way that always made Wes's heart skip a beat.
"I'm glad you both came," she said, stepping back to usher them in.
"Why wouldn't we? You know Wes can't say no, and wherever he goes…I go. Invited or not," Travis joked, giving Alex a quick hug.
Wes kept his hands firmly in his pockets to keep from falling into old habits.
Alex gave him a once over, one elegant eyebrow raised in concern. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, just getting over a bug," Wes said stubbornly, ignoring the look his partner gave him.
Alex brushed off the comment, and continued back to the kitchen. "Well, I wasn't sure if you'd come, but Wes…I have someone who wants to see you."
Wes and Travis exchanged quick, equally confused glances. Wes shrugged minutely as they followed her.
"Wesley!"
At the woman's voice, Wes stopped dead in his tracks, face going pale in an instant, his entire body frozen mid step.
Travis didn't need to be told who it was. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the same fine bone structure as Wes…this was his mother. She looked smaller than he expected, especially considering what he knew of Mr. Mitchell. She was downright delicate looking.
He fought the instant urge to choke the shit out of her.
"Mom?" Wes choked out, back pedaling a step away from the woman. "What're you doing here?"
Mrs. Mitchell frowned…though pouted may be a more apt description. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, honey…perhaps we should sit?" She gestured towards the couch in the living room.
"I'm fine standing," Wes said brusquely.
"Wes!" Alex admonished. "Be nice!"
Travis watched Wes recoil as if physically slapped. He stepped closer to his partner, hoping it looked nonchalant when he brushed elbows with the younger man. "Come on, man. Do what the nice lady asks," he said, plastering a fake smile on his face as he steered Wes towards the couch. He pointedly took the space next to Wes, forcing Alex and Mrs. Mitchell to sit opposite them. Wes sat so far back in the corner it looked as if he was willing the sofa to swallow him whole.
Not that he could blame him.
Alex and Mrs. Mitchell…Camille?...sat opposite them, the latter smoothing the edges of her too short skirt as she sat opposite her son.
Travis had a momentary flash to Fatal Attraction and wondered if there was a way for him to subtly switch places with Wes.
"Sweetie," Camille began, and Travis saw the minute shudder and tensing of Wes's frame. He avoided looking at his mother, and Travis could see the look of triumph in her blue eyes. She was happy her son couldn't look her in the eye. He felt cold rage settle in his stomach.
"Honey," Camille started again, smiling faintly at way Wes fought not to squirm. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your father…" she trailed off, feigning emotion. If Travis didn't know what she'd done to Wes, read those messages…he would've bought it. She was that good.
Alex placed a comforting hand on Camille's knee, smiling sympathetically. "When you're ready, Camille."
Wes kept his gaze resolutely away from them, and Travis could see him grind his teeth.
"Thank you…your father is…very sick, sweetie," Camille said. "And.."
"I know," Wes snapped abruptly.
Camille stopped, crocodile tears drying in an instant. "What?"
"I know Dad's sick. I know what you want. And the answer is still the same – no."
"Wes!" Alex exclaimed. "What do you mean, no? He's your father!"
Wes glared at her. "I'm perfectly aware of what he is. And the answer is still no."
"Wesley, angel, where is this hostility coming from? I know you and your father aren't on the best of terms, but he's forgiven you for leaving the firm and taking up law enforcement. He was just…disappointed that you let one case bother you so much," Camille said, smiling once more. She almost looked motherly for an instant, and Travis once again had to appreciate the Oscar worthy level of performance the Mitchells were capable of.
"It has nothing to do with that, and you know it. My father can't bully me into a life threatening and potentially career ending procedure that's still controversial in forty five states," Wes snarled. "I'm not giving up my life for his."
Alex's mouth dropped open in shock and Travis wondered if she'd finally clued in to how bad things were between Wes and his parents.
Her next words made it obvious she did not.
"Oh my God, Wes! How can you be so cruel? So…selfish?"
Wes flinched hard at that.
"This is your father! He gave you life! He raised you! He helped pay for the wedding and walked me down the aisle because I didn't have my dad! It's not like they're asking you to lay down your life! It's an established surgery, and the department will give you sick leave if you explain it to them. And if you can't go back to the field…is it really so terrible to consider a desk job that you would just let your father die? Is your pride really worth his life?"
Travis couldn't even breathe. He was torn between slapping Alex and just grabbing Wes and leaving. He knew she didn't know – about any of it. She couldn't have even the slightest idea. Alex could never be so cruel intentionally.
Wes sat in stunned silence, a flush of scarlet rushing up his neck, but Travis saw as something switched off in his eyes. In the span of time it took Travis to blink, Wes shut down.
"Alex, shut up," Travis said quietly.
Now it was her turn to look stunned. "Excuse me?"
"Just…shut up," Travis said. "You don't understand all that's involved, I know that. But…a desk job? Your solution for this mess is that Wes gives up a part of himself, literally, and takes a half-life behind a desk? That's not fair, and you know it."
Alex had the decency to look slightly abashed at the quiet statement. "At least I wouldn't have to wonder if he was coming home alive."
"It's not your decision to make," Wes said quietly, much to Travis's surprise. "It's not anyone's decision but mine, and you can't make it for me."
Wes refused to make eye contact with either of them, but at least he wasn't spaced out anymore.
"Wesley, darling…surely you could do this one thing?" Camille asked, so sweetly, so…lovingly. "If not for your father…then for me?" Camille placed a delicate, well-manicured hand on her son's knee, and shit hit the fan.
Wes froze instantly, jerking like an electric charge passed through him at her touch. His face paled, bad enough that Travis half expected him to pass out, his eyes going wide with shock. A strangled noise that Travis couldn't even begin to describe, except that no one should ever make it, escaped him, and he launched himself backwards over the side of the couch. It was the most impressive feat of acrobatics Travis had ever seen from his partner.
"Don't touch me!" Wes growled, still backing away from Camille, the jerking muscle spasms back with a vengeance.
"Wes! What is the matter with you?" Alex asked, and Travis had to wonder what this looked like to her. Her ex-husband completely freaking out over a relatively harmless gesture from his sainted mother. Wes must look like he'd lost his mind.
"We're working a really tough case," Travis explained. "It's worn us a little thin. Wes, time to go. We have paperwork to do, and I know how you feel about paperwork. I'll meet you at the car." Travis stood, keeping between his partner and the snake in women's clothing opposite him who was the only one who didn't look surprised at Wes's behavior. She actually looked pleased, like she'd known exactly what kind of a reaction she would get and did it on purpose.
"Alex, why don't you take her to the kitchen?" Travis said, making it sound more like an order than a suggestion. Which it was.
Alex nodded faintly. "Sure…come on, Camille. Travis will talk to him."
As the two women left, Travis turned his whole focus on Wes, who was pacing near the wall, obviously trying to prevent a full blown panic attack.
"Let's go, Wes. We're outta here," he said, gesturing towards the door. "Freak out in the car where she can't see what she's done to you."
Wes's eyes turned towards the door as if seeing it for the first time and bolted for it without warning.
"Travis? Can I speak with you a moment?" Camille called after Travis as he went to follow Wes.
"It's not a good time, Mrs. Mitchell," Travis replied. He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm, turning in surprise. She was quick for someone so small.
"While Alex and my son are occupied, I thought you and I could have a word," Camille said, smiling as her grip tightened on his arm.
"Look, lady, Wes told me all about you and your husband. What you did to him. I've got nothing to say to you." Travis tried to pry her fingers off his bicep, but she simply dug her nails in, painfully sharp even through his jacket.
"I am aware of that, young man," Camille said. "And I assume he told you how…persistent we could be. Wesley doesn't stand a chance against us. He didn't before, and nothing has changed. He will sign the consent form. My husband will live."
"Over my dead body," Travis growled.
"That can be arranged," Camille said. She suddenly yanked Travis's arm, pulling him towards her as she raised up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "If you think I was bad before, imagine how…creative…twenty years has made me. The time I've had to think about how to get him to beg and scream my name. Oh, the sounds he used to make…you wouldn't have been able to keep your hands off, either."
Travis pushed the woman away, and she willingly released his arm, still smiling pleasantly. He felt what little he'd managed to eat earlier about to make a return appearance.
"Tell my son I'll see him soon, okay, sweetie?" Camille said, waving like beauty queen as Travis turned and fought not to run back to the car.
"I'm filing a case against them," Travis said adamantly. "I don't care if you want to keep this under wraps. I'm telling the Captain, and then I'm going to go kill them."
They were driving back to Travis's apartment, where Wes fully intended on leaving his partner before going back to his hotel room.
"No, you're not!" Wes said for the fifth time. "I told you, I'll handle it!"
Travis exploded. "HANDLE IT?! You've done nothing except ignore them! And that's obviously not working out! If it was me, would you let me just let it go? Handle it on my own?"
"It's not you! It's me and it's my problem!" Wes shouted back. "I get to decide what I will or won't do!"
Travis pounded his fist on the dash. "Is this your way of being your own man? Of not letting yourself get pushed around? I'm not trying to push you, Wes, I'm trying to protect you! Help you!"
"That is what everyone has always told me!" Wes finally shouted. He stopped at the red light, waiting for traffic. "Everything was always for my own good! Everyone was always trying to help me! And all they ever fucking did was make things worse than I could've imagined! This is as bad as it can get, I don't want to imagine it worse than it is! Why can't you understand that I am doing this for my own good as well as yours!?"
"Don't you even try to justify this as saving my ass! I'm a grown ass man, and I've survived much worse people than your parents!" Travis said.
"No, you haven't," Wes replied adamantly. "You really, really haven't." Wes glanced in the rear view mirror. "What the hell?" he muttered, and before Travis could turn and look to see what he was looking at, the car was slammed from behind.
Travis's neck snapped forwards from the momentum before he was slammed back in his seat.
Wes's arms locked on the wheel and there was a squeal of tires as they were forced into oncoming traffic, even as Wes stood on the brake pedal.
"Look out!" Travis shouted, grabbing Wes's arm and pulling him towards him as a lifted Chevy Silverado slammed into the driver's side door, throwing both men sideways. Travis felt his head crack the window, heard the sound of shattering glass and the crushing weight of the seat belt across his chest as the world flipped violently around him.
There was the scream of tires, busting glass and the suddenly everything was silent. It felt like nothing moved. What little Travis could see was doubled and blurry and upside down. It took longer than it should have to realize it was because the car flipped and was resting on the roof.
He coughed, and something warm dribbled from his mouth and made his whole chest burn.
Wes didn't move. He hung limply from his seat belt, one side of his face swathed in blood and his arm was going in the wrong direction.
"Wes…" Travis croaked, fumbling for his seat belt and failing miserably.
There was the crunch of glass and voices as people approached.
Someone was kneeling beside the car, looking through the ruined glass.
"Mr. Marks. Mr. Mitchell sends his regards," the man said.
Two men. No, one. Travis was having problems focusing.
The man reached inside, slicing through Wes's seat belt and Wes fell bonelessly to the roof of the car.
"We'll take good care of him," the man said, and pulled Wes from the wreckage.
Travis's head spun. He could hear people yelling, asking if he was all right. His partner was gone. Just like that.
And just like that, blackness slammed down on him, and he knew nothing more.
Author's Note: So. What do you think? It's been off the air for a while, so I've had issues coming up with inspiration to write this. Reviews keep it going. I think maybe three more chapters? Tell me what you think!