A/N: Eeesh. Long update, and not the greatest chapter out there, but… I felt guilty about leaving you guys hanging. After all, our beloved Adam was in a tricky spot where I left him, so… Read, and see how he holds up! Also, seems to like to scew up the documents, so if something looks weird, I compleyely blame them. I'm so evil. :)
7: Back Where We Started From
Wesley had to stop and lean against a tree. His heart beat furiously, he could hear the dull pounding in his hears, his throat burned, his head spun.
Adam…
He couldn't stop. He knew that. Every second he stood still, panting, sweaty and his hand pressed against his chest, was a second where Adam was hurt, a valuable second where the chance to save him faded away, bit by bit.
You didn't worry this much about Buttercup, a dry little voice in his head said.
Wesley pretended not to hear it. He didn't have time to hear it and not the energy to run, and in a way, that was even worse than the lack of time.
He really didn't have the energy.
And now, the lack of strength wasn't still and peaceful, like it had been when he'd been too tired to be with anyone but Adam. No.
Now, his tiredness was a big, clawing despair, a weight on his shoulders that forced him down to his knees, a big monster that could crush him with its mere fist.
Adam…
An image of Adam in his head.
Bloody, broken, his mouth, that had been smiling so nicely, crushed, with bleeding lips, his teeth are red, some of them are missing…
Wesley whimpered. It hurt, his heart ached even more at this vision, but he couldn't get up, his knees had buckled and refused to straighten up again.
The guards kick him in the stomach, and he's so skinny, so skinny, he convulses and coughs when a rib is broken…
Wesley put a hand over his mouth. Stubborn little tears rose in his eyes, and he managed to make his hands move over the dirty ground in an attempt to crawl, but he couldn't stand, he couldn't walk.
He coughs, he coughs, he coughs blood…
Maybe it was the picture of Adam in his head, maybe it was the fact that he didn't even know how long he'd been running with all the stamina he had, but Wesley got up on all fours and hiccupped for a few seconds before his stomach was wringed like a dishcloth and he vomited over the grass-clad ground, even though he hadn't eaten in two days.
Okay… It's okay now… It's okay…
Wesley rolled over to his back and pulled his hand over his mouth. Dots danced over his eyes, teasing, electrifying little things in yellow and white.
He wouldn't let Adam die.
He wouldn't die himself.
But he couldn't stand.
He could barely breath.
You're not wounded.
The voice in his head, the dry, teasing voice that had echoed in his head during all the time he'd spent on the sea, had been replaced with a different one.
A stronger one. Lighter. Kinder.
With an American accent.
Adam's voice.
You'll be fine. You can stand up if you want to. Fuck, man, you're gonna let those guards get me? Am I not a better kisser than that?
Wesley smiled thinly. Even the there was nothing to smile at. At all.
Yes. Yes, you are. But I don't know where I am.
Look up, you idiot. Just like you English guys to be stupid.
Shut up.
But Wesley rolled over to his stomach again. And then he heaved himself up on his hands, lifted the head that felt like a stone. And looked up.
And there it was.
Surrounded by brick walls. Just like he left it. The prison.
Wesley smiled, almost insanely, and found, from some place in his body, the strength to heave himself up some more and then get to his feet.
There were no guards in sight. Not even the one that had stood outside the prison door when he and Adam had been locked up. They were probably on Buttercup's wedding, circling the entrances so that he wouldn't get in, but that thought only brushed over Wesley's mind as he tattered up to the prison door. Because Adam was behind that door, Adam was there and spread his sarcastic warmth, and Wesley felt it, so nothing, no thought about anyone he'd ever loved up until then could slow down his steps now.
When he got up to the door, he tried the handle. God, it wasn't even locked. What did these guards think about Adam? That he'd stay here in their dungeon, simply because he liked to lie on his back and do nothing?
If you put it like that, it does sound pretty believable, the dry voice said, and Wesley had to agree with it on that point.
He opened the door. A gate of light fell down on the place where he'd been just a day ago, and yet felt so far away.
For a moment, he thought he'd been wrong. That the dungeon was empty. That Adam was in another place, far away, defenseless, where Wesley couldn't help him.
But then he saw those scraped feet, bathing in light.
Adam…
"Adam?"
A weak gasp was heard from the darkness. Wesley walked down the stairs on wobbly knees.
He's in pain. Everything you imagined is true.
I know.
"Adam?"
You know it's him, you idiot.
The small feet moved. Wesley put his hand back over his mouth and slowly walked up to them, to the point where the light ended and the rest of Adam's body was devoured by darkness.
"Adam, can you hear me?"
He went down to his knees and walked forward until his hand met a stonewall, cold and damp. And he head a weak moan to his left.
"Adam?"
"What the hell took you so long?" Adam's displeased voice grumbled, with that amazing, amazing American accent shining through every word, and Wesley made a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob.
"Adam… God…"
Adam chuckled, even though it sounded throatier than usual, and Wesley reached out a trembling hand until it felt warm, living skin, and then a shoulder, and then he found the rest of Adam, and then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. Adam grunted, his body was tensed and he pushed Wesley back.
"No hugs," he said and swept his hand over Wesley's cheek awkwardly. "I know you mean well, but it just feels like someone jams a fire poker into my ribs."
Wesley smiled weakly, even though those words put a shadow over the face that he knew Adam couldn't see anyway.
"We'll take care of that later. Once we get out of here. Come on, we have to leave before the guards find us…"
Adam cut him off with a cackling laugh, that eventually faded into coughing, rattling and loud, which would've scared Wesley if he hadn't so much to worry about already.
"Wesley, you idiot," Adam said almost lovingly once he'd calmed down. "Think of the surroundings! Haven't you seen 'Batman Begins'?"
"What?"
"Nothing. Either way, I'm chained up in my hands, which you don't seem to notice at the sight of my beautiful face."
"I can't see your face. But," Wesley said, since he'd actually suspected this, but still had, in a brief moment of tranquil happiness, thought that it actually could be this easy. "I actually have something that I think can set you free."
"Who-hoo!" Adam said sarcastically, and a rattling from the chains implied that he raised his hand in some sort of half-hearted victory gesture. "That might be the first smart thing you've ever done. But Wesley, honey, I highly doubt that you can pick a lock."
Wesley arched his brow and picked up the things he'd collected along the way out of his pocket.
"Don't underestimate me, young man."
He couldn't tell, but he knew Adam grinned.
Wesley really did know how to pick a lock. Awfully practical when you're a pirate, sure, but he still felt guilty those times when he, with way too quick, practiced fingers put the objects he now had in front of himself together, since that little voice always mumbled into his ear then: Yes, you do it for honorable reasons now, but do you remember that chest you had to break open, when you'd knocked a door to a house in and beaten down a pregnant woman, then you picked a lock, just like this, and you felt nothing then, nothing at all.
Wesley shook his head violently and moved into the light to see what he was doing.
This wasn't like that.
He did it for someone he cared about this time.
The only thing he really had was a twig, a thorn and a lump of resin, but it didn't matter. It would work, because it had before and it would now, too, simply because there was no other way.
He rolled the resin between his fingers until it got soft. Then he put it on the edge of the twig and pressed the thorn into it, so that it looked like a carving needle. He heard Adam stretch his neck to see what he was doing.
"What are you up to?" He asked, but Wesley ignored him. Instead, he blew on the resin for it to get hard, and then held the picklock into the light to behold his work.
It got good.
And it would work.
Adam didn't seem to agree. Wesley could almost hear him roll his eyes when he saw what he'd accomplished.
"You're going to get me out of these things with that?" He said scornfully. "It looks like a tiny dildo!"
Wesley ignored him and crawled up to Adam again and searched for the handcuffs over his wrists. When he found them, he fumbled with the picklock for a while before he found the lock. When it was inside, and he wriggled the picklock to make the lock move, he still sent Adam a sharp glance through the darkness.
"I don't know what a dildo is," he said softly and was impressed over how quickly he got the first lock to open up, "but I'm sure this is ideal to stab annoying Americans with."
Adam laughed and then sighed gratefully as the first cuff fell from his wrist.
"See?" Wesley said exultantly and leaned over him to work on the second lock.
He felt Adam shake his head next to his cheek.
"Impressive, indeed," he said approvingly, and his breath on Wesley's face made him involuntarily stiff in his fingers, and he had to use all the mental force he had to make them move until he heard that wonderful, and Adam's relieved moan when he finally could take his other hand down from the wall, lift both his arms and put them around Wesley, press himself against his chest.
Wesley smiled uncertainly and hugged Adam back, even though those tiny tears rose in his eyes again, but they didn't really matter.
It didn't matter that tears of old pain ran down his cheeks, or that the guards could see them anytime now, or that Adam couldn't even sit up straight, and leaned his ruffled hair against the place where Wesley's heart bet furiously out of pure worrying.
Things were okay now. They had to be okay now.
"Thank you," Adam choked out and clutched to his shirt. "Thank you, Wesley…"
"Adam, calm down…"
Adam's shoulders were shaking, his grip on Wesley's shirt got harder, stifled sounds forced themselves over his lips.
Adam was crying. And Wesley didn't know how to handle him then.
"I'm sorry, Wesley," Adam suddenly whimpered.
Wesley grabbed his arms and pulled him into the light, maybe in a vein hope that he wouldn't see any big damages on him, maybe just because he wanted to see the face he'd missed so much.
"I'm sorry," Adam kept slurring, and now, his face was in the sun, pale with red stains. "I'm sorry… That I couldn't hold those guys back… I'm sorry…"
Now, his entire body was lightened up.
And Wesley immediately wished that he'd gotten there sooner. Ran faster.
If he had, it might've not been too late when he got there.
Because Adam wasn't just wounded. He was half-dead.
His face had no color. His dark hair was sticking together by blood that poured, was smeared from a wound in his forehead.
When Wesley held his arms, he suddenly felt the broken bones slipping around under his fingers, squeaking against each other, like a terrible symphony, whispering of what suffering Adam had gone through and that he might have gotten out of if Wesley only had been there.
Adam's shirt was torn. Dark red, dried blood that caked his chest shone through the ripped fabric, and Wesley felt sick, he wanted to vomit again and he wanted to cry, he wanted to help Adam, even though his eyes already were closed and his breathing barely audible.
After that, everything happened so quickly. Wesley had just pressed Adam's head back into his chest and allowed the tears to go from a silent dribbling into a violent gush, and then, feet walked around outside, Inigo's voice echoed against the trees.
"He should be here. All the traces lead here, and Adam…"
Wesley swallowed. Looked at Adam's blood on his shirt, on his own shirt, on the red, sticky hay and realized that he couldn't lose another second.
"He's in here!" He screamed, even though his voice cracked by the tears, even though the blood on his clothes gathered up into one single bomb in his voice that exploded. "Come here, help me, he's n here!"
You won't die down here, Adam.
Yeah, I was kind of half-asleep when I wrote this… But still! REVIEW!
