The drama has started early in this story. As usual I don't know exactly where I'm going with this story, but I know there's a lot of drama from everyone. I'm feeling dramatic apparently.
I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Talks about murder and death, talks about depression, child abuse. Still in the process of writing so check here for new warnings as I go!
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Tapping his nails against the kitchen table Wes let out a soft sigh as he watched the rain pound against the window. When he had sent the text to Clary that morning he hadn't thought it would start raining right before she showed up. Actually, given how hot it had been lately, he had been happy for the brief reprieve of not having the sun beating down on him.
It also felt nice to have the weather outside matching his mood. He wasn't sad or anything like that, but he had never really thought of clouds or storms as being sad. They were deeper than that. They were thought provoking and cleansing. They washed away the grim and cobwebs covering thoughts making them easier to see what was being shown.
And it was rain. There was nothing like being in the middle of a rainstorm after so long of not having it. The sun was nice and he loved spending every second he could outside enjoying it, but nothing beat the rain. As long as it wasn't being really destructive. Which, given how little rain they got, happened really easily.
At the moment though he couldn't bring himself to fully appreciate the storm. There was too much on his mind and for the first time in a long time he couldn't brush them away as unimportant. He didn't want to think about it or them or what could have been. The life he had was more than enough for him and he didn't need those thoughts trying to pull him down some spiral that would only end in heartbreak for everyone involved.
Yet he couldn't stop himself. Ever since he thought of it the day before he found himself lost in what he should do. He kept going back and forth trying to weigh the pros and cons of doing what he was thinking of doing. There weren't really all that many reasons on either side of that list. It was all kind of just sitting in that awkward neutral place that didn't mean anything.
Which wasn't to say that he was doing anything wrong. If he wanted to visit his mothers grave than he was allowed to. There was no reason to lie or hide what he was doing from his parents. In fact, both of them had offered to take him if he ever wanted to visit her. He just never really wanted to do that. It wasn't as if he knew her.
That thought had plagued him since he learned about his adoption. It was like there was a shadow watching him do everything he did and though he could feel it he had no idea how he was supposed to feel about it. How was is possible to care so much about the opinion of a person that he had never known?
It had taken him a long time to ask that question. At first he had wanted to know everything that happened that brought him into the Callen family. It wasn't a pretty story by any means, but it was his story and that meant something. He could deal with it not being pretty as long as he knew it and he understood it.
For the first few months he had felt almost removed from the whole thing. Like it was just any other story. Yes, he could see the moving parts and he could try to imagine what it felt like to be in her shoes as she feared for her baby's life and then dying before she ever got to met him, but it was just a story. It had nothing to do with him
It wasn't until he got the collage that his mind started to think more about it. Suddenly there was a very real face to go along with the story. A face that looked enough like his own that made everything suddenly feel so much more real than it had before. It wasn't just any story anymore. It was his story.
That was when he started to go down a not so good path. He had been a literal child so he couldn't really do much of anything, but he did have an Uncle Eric and Aunt Nell. They were both wizards with computers. They could find anything and everything if they were given enough time. He had no doubt that they'd be able to find him answer if he just asked.
So he did. He had sent out, what the three of them lovingly referred to as, the Bat Signal. In truth it was just a text message saying panic at your own convince, but the nickname sounded way cooler. It had taken a few days before he had been able to ask them to look into his mother and birth family, but as soon as he did his parents got called.
At first he hadn't really understood why they had called him. He just wanted to know about his birth family. How was that a bad thing? They were his family. He had to get some things from them and maybe they could help him understand parts of him that he didn't fully get yet. They could give him an outline of who he was.
He had tried to explain that to all of them. Over and over he told them that he wasn't trying to hurt them or that he didn't love them. It was just he felt as if he was missing a part of himself and that they were the ones with the answers. They did know his mother, maybe they even knew his father. They could point him in the right direction.
That was when Papa brought him to the cemetery for the first time. At first he thought that they were going to visit his mother and he had felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest. As much as he wanted to know the answers to his questions the idea of seeing the place where she was laid to rest terrified him.
It wasn't her grave that they went to though. It was his sisters. That was the first time that the older man really told him about his childhood and family. He had always known the outline of the mans past, but it had been a very rough outline. Without the details of what actually happened though he never understood.
For the first time since he had started to question his birth family he actually voiced them to someone. He had always thought that they were the only ones that could help him figure it all out. Until Papa told him everything. He had never felt more like he had been listened to than he had in that moment. Even if it wasn't until later in his life that he realized the gift that he had been given.
It was strange how Papa had seemed to know every question that he wanted to ask before he even asked them. Wes hadn't expected anyone to truly understand what was going on in his head. At least not fully. Then he heard everything the older man had to say about his past and he couldn't believe how wrong he was.
It had been in that conversation that he decided he didn't want to try to find out anything about his birth family. Seeing how effected his papa still was with his family and the constant searching for answers to his own questions and trying to figure out who he was… He didn't want to fall into the same destructive behavior.
And it was destructive. Papa had toned things down for him since he was so young, but he had fully explained just how lost and confused he felt. How he had sent his entire life pulling away from everyone that got close to him because he thought he didn't deserve it. Because in his mind he couldn't be loved by anyone until he knew who he was.
Looking back he knew that he could have easily fallen the same way the older man had. If he didn't have the family it was more than likely he would have spent his life in the same way. Searching for answers that he already had. Yes, it would have been nice to know his birth family and their origin, but he didn't need that information to know who he was.
A sigh fell from Wes's lips as he dropped his head against the table. The amount of times he repeated that to himself were astronomical. He honestly didn't care that he didn't have a relationship with them. He really didn't. He didn't need to have people in his life that didn't want to be there. The family that he had was more than enough for him and nothing was going to ruin that.
It hurt though. His mother had loved him. The story from both Papa and Uncle Sam made that clear. She had been bleeding out and the only thought she had was about him and whether or not he was going to be okay. She had been dying and had enough strength to calm herself down because putting stress on the baby wasn't a good thing. She had loved him with all of her heart.
Given everything he knew about her it wasn't difficult to figure out what happened. She had been living in a small, rundown house, she had been a teenager, no one bothered to try to find him after she died. All of the signs pointed to her having no family either by her choice or by theirs and since he knew Uncle Eric had contacted her parents when he was born to tell them what happened he knew which one of those he was leaning towards.
Okay, so he might be a little more effected by what happened than he liked to admit. Just the idea that his mother had been kicked out her family because she got pregnant with him made him want to lay face first on a pillow and scream. He maybe understanding about a lot of things, but he was very not okay with certain points.
"Wes," Clary greeted happily falling into the chair next to him and startling him from his thoughts, "Good morning!"
Instead of answering Wes simply rolled his head to the side to look at her while keeping it against the table. He knew that he looked pathetic but he couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't as if he didn't know the woman. She was his best friend and had been for about six years. She had seen him in some fairly bad situations already. There was no judgment.
As soon as he looked into her cinnamon brown eyes the teen was cooing her arms wrapping around him practically blanketing his body. Reaching up he held onto her arm forcing a few deep breaths. He loved how she always smelled like chamomile and apples.
"Are you okay, dear heart?" Clary asked resting her head on his shoulder.
"Too much thinking," Wes replied softly.
Before Clary could continue to comfort him someone cleared their throat from behind them. Turning his head as far as he could Wes saw his papa watching the two of them in amusement. It was at that look that he realized he hadn't heard anyone knocking on the door or the doorbell ringing. No one had actually let the woman in. Though he was pretty sure no one had invited her into the house in years.
"Hello, Clary," Papa greeted walking into the kitchen, "How are you today?"
"I'm doing well, Mr. G," Clary replied turning to look at him, "How are you?"
"I'm curious how you got into my house. Again."
A bright smile came to her lips though like normal she didn't bother to answer. We wasn't exactly sure how it began, but at some point in their friendship Clary had started a little game with his papa. One that involved him locking the house up tightly and her breaking in. He was the only one that didn't know that Dad had given her a key a few years back because he thought it was hilarious to see Papa try to figure out how she was doing it.
He was convinced that Aunt Kensi and Aunt Nell had taken her under their wings and were training her. Which wasn't all that far from the truth. Clary had known him for long enough to know that his family worked as undercover agents. She had not been surprised. In fact, the first thing she did was ask for his aunts to train her.
Not that she wanted to go into law enforcement or anything close to that. Clary was like him in a way though. She couldn't sit still to save her life. Before she met him she had tried a lot of things to get that under control. All of which failed spectacularly. Until she asked to be trained. She took to fighting like a fish in water.
They had actually trained a few times together over the years, but she was a lot better than him. Probably because she actually enjoyed it. Wes understood why he needed to know how to fight and he respected his family for teaching him and his sister. He just hated it so much. He'd much rather than the walking.
In the end though, he didn't really care which one they were doing. Even without really having fun doing it he loved spending time with his best friend and just moving around. He counted his lucky stars everyday that he had someone like her in his life. He could never regret becoming friends with her.
"You okay, kiddo?" Papa asked moving to rest a hand on his shoulder squeezing it just enough to ground him.
"Yeah," Wes nodded smiling up at the older man though he knew that he could see through it, "I'm okay. I just did a lot of thinking yesterday and felt like talking it through with someone."
"And you picked Clary. Feel like you can't talk to me or Dad about it?"
Wes couldn't help chuckling at that. No matter how many years passed his papa was ever the investigator. Izzy has taught him early on how to notice when he fell into that mode and how to shut him down before it got too far. He rarely did that because it was fun to play around with the questions and see how far he got before he broke, but there were points where he didn't want to handle that side of the man.
"Investigating, Papa," Wes reminded him gently
"Alright, alright," the man offered holding his hands up, "I'll leave it be. Just know that Dad and I are here if you need us. Okay?"
"I know. Love you, Papa."
"Love you too, Wesley. Now I'm going to go help Dad at the office today. Make sure you both have your phones on and that they're fully charged if you decide to leave the house."
"Got it. Do you want me to drop off food around dinner?"
"I'll call you later and we'll figure it out then. Have fun you two."
Wes waited impatiently for his papa to leave the house. It would have been all too easy for him to try to get him to talk again. The man wasn't known for walking away from things that concerned his kids. It wasn't that he thought they couldn't handle whatever they were going through or that he needed to know everything that was going on even. He was just protective.
Both of his parents were. And he couldn't blame them. The things that they had gone through in their lives were scarier than anything he could imagine. They had been hurt time and time again and the last thing either of them wanted was for their kids to deal with a fraction of that pain. Him and Izzy being okay meant everything to them.
Truthfully, he was thankful for that. The relationship that he had with his parents was good. He could go to them with anything and, even if they didn't know the answers, he felt safe and loved no matter what. If periodically he had to remind them that sometimes he had to stand on his own feet and figure it out on his own first than it was a small price to pay.
"Alright, Wes," Clary started falling into the chair next to his, "Talk to me. What is going on in that head of yours?"
"I'm thinking of visiting my mom," Wes confessed almost in a whisper though no one else was around to hear him.
His whole body tensed as soon as the words left his mouth. Words that shouldn't be a big deal anyway. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He really wasn't. That's exactly what it felt like though. It was like he had to hide what he wanted to do away from everyone. That he would get in trouble if they were to find out.
It made no sense and he was completely aware of that. Nothing would happen to him if he told his family what he wanted to do. No, that was a lie. They'd sit with him and talk through what he was feeling. Something he normally loved doing. Something he truly needed to do when his mind started to get away from him like it was.
Unlike most other times though he felt like he couldn't talk to either of the older men. Even knowing that at the very least one of them would be able to understand what it was he was feeling. The idea of telling them what he was thinking alone made him feel like there was a rock in the pit of his stomach pulling him down.
"Okay," Clary offered her almost shaky voice cutting through his thoughts, "I have questions."
"Me too," Wes replied shooting her a sad smile, "So many questions. You go first. Maybe your questions will be easier to answer."
"I highly doubt it, but alright. Why do you want to go visit her and why are you trying to hide it from Mr. G?"
Staring at the younger teen Wes couldn't help the huff that escaped him. Of course those were the questions that she decided to ask. They were, in fact, two of the loudest questions that were bouncing around in his head at the moment. If only they were the only ones.
With a deep breath Wes opened his mouth to start explaining what was going on only to find the words wouldn't form. He forced himself to stop and start again a few times before he just gave up and started to pace the kitchen. Why couldn't he just say the words that he wanted to say? It wasn't as if they were all that hard.
"Wes," Clary called out grabbing his wrist when he walked past her, "What is going on?"
"I don't know," he answered hating how the words came out in an almost whine.
"Yes you do. You're the only one that knows what's going on in that head of yours. Just say it. Don't hold back."
Staring down into warm eyes Wes couldn't help feeling himself deflate. He knew that she was right. The only thing that was stopping him from actually talking was the fear of what would happen if he finally said it out loud. How much pain would it cause if he finally let himself think about it again instead of pushing it to the side?
He felt his heart stutter in his chest at that thought. Was that really what he had been doing when he thought about his mother and birth family? Had he really just ignored it until those thoughts went away? It didn't sound like him at all, but the more he thought about it the more he couldn't deny the truth in it. No matter how much he wanted to.
"Wes?" Clary tried once more.
"Did I ever tell you about the day I was born?" he questioned staring down at his friend.
"Not really. You just said that it was the day your mom died and the day you met Mr. G and Mr. Marty."
"The story is a little more complicated than that."
"I figured, but I knew you'd tell me if you ever wanted to. Are you ready to talk about it?"
"I don't know, but I think I need to. I can't keep ignoring those thoughts."
With a nod of her head Clary stood up from the kitchen table and led him up to his bedroom the grip on his wrist never loosening until they were there. Once they were inside the girl kicked off her boots and laid on the bed her arms open a smile playing on her lips. Wes couldn't help shaking his head at her antics as he moved to lay with her his head resting on her chest.
"Alright," Clary started her arms moving to hold him tightly against her, "Hit me. You have my full attention."
"Oh really?" Wes asked staring up at her with a grin on his lips, "You promise not to fall asleep this time?"
"Once! That only happened once and I had been awake for three days straight. I cannot be held responsible for what happened during that time."
"So you don't think we should move in together after college and get a dog?"
"Of course not! I would never only have one dog! Three minimum or you live alone Wesley Callen."
A laugh escaped him at how offended his best friend sounded. He loved the younger teen so much. Every day he found himself more and more grateful that she had kicked her way into his life. Quite literally. She had walked up to him one day in the park and asked him to join her in a cancan dance. He still wasn't quite sure what that was, but whatever they had done together had been fun.
"Love you, honeysuckle," he muttered as her fingers started to play with his hair.
"Honeysuckle?" Clary asked her voice softening to match his.
"Feeling flower-y today."
"Okay. Love you too, dear heart. Now, you ready to quit putting this conversation off?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"Let's do this. Tell me about that day."
Nodding his head slowly Wes took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. If he was going to start the conversation than he was going to need to be as calm and level headed as possible. Something that wasn't going to be easy given how he already felt.
It didn't help that he had no idea where where he wanted to start at all. He wasn't even sure how much he should tell Clary. As much as he trusted and loved her part of the story was his papas. Without his permission he didn't want to tell her about his past. Which left out a few key points that were currently buzzing around in his head.
He wanted to be fully open about the whole thing though. He needed to be open. It was part of why he decided to talk with Clary over his parents in the first place. Yes, the older men might be able to understand what was going on in his head, but he wasn't really sure he wanted someone to understand. He kind of just wanted to talk. Both Papa and Dad were not good at that though. They fixed things. Or tried to fix them.
If Wes was honest he wasn't sure there was a solution at all. It wasn't as if anything was really broken. They were just… missing. So many things were missing and confusing and just straight up lost. It wasn't as if you could fix something if the pieces that had shattered had already been swept away from sight.
Then there was the fact that it the story was not only not a nice one, but was confusing as well. Everything that they knew about her and what happened that day came from a case file. She was just a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She ended up dead because of that. Because someone had decided that park would be the perfect place to start killing people.
What got to him even more was the fact that they only knew about that day. That singular day when things went wrong. According to Uncle Eric and Aunt Nell they had tried to look into her past, but outside of a the normal records like birth certificates and social security and school paperwork she didn't exist. And the school things seemed to come to an end when she got pregnant with him.
All of that made it fairly easy to guess at what happened, but none of them knew for sure. As doubtful as it was they could be missing some big thing that changed how they viewed the whole situation. He wasn't sure if the idea of that made it easier or harder to think about or if it changed any of what he thought.
"Okay," Wes finally started releasing the breath he had been holding, "I'm going to tell you about the day I was born. Fair warning. This story is complicated and confusing and incomplete and a few other words that I can't currently think of."
"Got it," Clary responded her fingers gently playing with his hair.
"Papa and the team had just been pulled in on a case. I don't know the details of it, but from what I've been told there was a shooting at a park that my mother happened to be at. The shooter ran and pushed her over. I guess she either thought she was okay or she didn't have the money to visit the doctor because she went home. Papa and Uncle Sam went to interview her to see if she could tell them anything about the shooter, but they never got the chance."
"What happened?"
"According to what the file said and what the doctors could guess she had been hurt when she fell and she didn't know it until it was too late. She was slowly bleeding out and by the time they got to her it was already too late. She died on the operating table. They could only save me."
Clenching his eyes shut Wes did his best to stop himself from falling into tears like he wanted. There was still more to the story and he knew if he started to cry now he wouldn't be able to get through it. At the moment all he wanted was to tell his best friend everything. Maybe it would finally get the thoughts out of his brain.
At the same time though it wasn't an easy story to tell. Even if it had happened to someone else it was heartbreaking. Not just everything that happened, but because it felt so cut and dry. It was almost analytical in a way since they didn't have a lot of details. It wasn't as if it happened over the course of a few days or weeks.
It was a handful of hours. She was pushed down in the late morning by the time lunch rolled around she was dead and he was alive. How was is possible that the beginning of his story and the ending of hers only lasted a few hours?
"What was her name?" Clary suddenly asked pulling him from his thoughts.
"Nadia Holtin," Wes offered a smile coming to his lips.
"Holtin? Like your middle name?"
"Yeah. She was still awake when Papa found her. She told him my name. When I was adopted Dad and Papa just added Callen so I became Wesley Jeremiah Holtin Callen."
"She had good taste. She gave you a beautiful name."
"She did, didn't she? I wonder if she'd be like Papa and Dad and call me Wesley. Do you want to see a picture of her?"
A smile pulled on Clary's lips as she nodded her head her arms letting him go so he could sit up and grab the collage once more. The two of them moved around quickly so they were resting against the pillows. Bumping his shoulder against his friends to make sure he had her attention he pointed to the photo of his mother.
It had been a long time since someone else had looked at the photo with him. Actually, if he remembered correctly no one had ever just looked at it with him. Outside of the day he was gifted it none of them ever bothered to bring it up again. He wasn't exactly sure why that was, but he didn't want to think too much on it. Not everything had a hidden meaning. Sometimes things just happened.
In the end that didn't really help him. Yes, sometimes random things happened for no reason whatsoever, but they still happened. There were still consequences for them Like the fact that he'd never actually see her face or know what her voice sounded like or what her arms felt like hugging him or…
"She was alone," he found himself saying without even thinking about it, "She was sixteen when she died. Sixteen! She was sixteen and pregnant and alone and… I don't even know for sure why. Was her family abusive? Did they disown her? All we know is that she did have a family. Uncle Eric found them after I was born. He told them what happened. He told them that she was dead and that I had been born. That if they wanted they could come get me. It would take a bit of paperwork, but I was their grandchild so… No one showed up. No one cared. They abandoned her and they abandoned me. They didn't care!"
Dropping the photo to the bed Wes pulled his knees to his chest and finally gave into the tears. He knew that there were a lot of people that had to deal with being abandoned and kicked out of their family, but he had never thought he would feel that way. Not with the parents he had. The last thing either of them would ever do was turn away from their children.
Inevitably though he remembered that he already had been. Before he had even been born his family had turned their backs on him and his mother and when she had been taken from him they continued to act as if he didn't exist. He had been a baby. A helpless, orphaned baby and they hadn't even bothered to visit him once.
It was normally at those thoughts that he decided to walk away from it all. They had made it crystal clear that he didn't mean anything to them. Sometimes it was easier to walk away from them and sometimes it took a few days, but no matter what he always came back to it. Always came back to a family he wasn't sure he even wanted to know.
"I feel so guilty" Wes confessed after a moment.
"Guilty?" Clary questioned in confusion, "For what?"
"I feel like I'm betraying them. Betraying my family. Papa and Dad took me in. they raised me and loved me and what am I doing? Crying over people that didn't want me in the first place! How is that right?"
"Is that really what you're crying over?"
Blinking a few times Wes looked over at his friend and saw her watching him carefully. There was an emotion there that he couldn't place, but he knew that he had never seen it in her eyes before. He couldn't help trying to curl in on himself even tighter at the idea that he might be scaring his best friend.
"Do you remember how I acted after my dad and sister died?" Clary asked her fingers playing with a loose thread on his blanket.
"No," Wes shook his head, "You refused to talk to me for two months."
"I didn't… I didn't want you to see me like that. I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I would never forgive myself if I did."
"Clary-"
"I felt angry, Wes. Really, really angry and I was lashing out at everyone. I made my mom cry more then once. I hurt her over and over and I couldn't stop myself. I wanted her to feel the pain I was feeling. She already was, obviously, but she was trying to be strong for me and acting like she wasn't dying inside and I kept finding new places to twist the knife. I hurt her so much."
Wes didn't hesitate to launch forward practically tackling the other teen in a hug. Clary's arms wrapped almost painfully tight around him, but he couldn't bring himself to complain. She so rarely talked about her father and younger sister. If she needed a moment to gather herself before she continued than that was what she was going to get.
"One day," she started the tears streaming down her face as she pulled back, "My mom just collapsed. I was yelling about something, I don't even remember anymore, and she just fell in the floor sobbing. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help. After a moment I grabbed my phone and called my grandparents. When they got there my grandmother comforted my mom while my grandfather forced me to walk with him. I'd never seen him so mad before."
"What he do?" Wes questioned running his hand over her back.
"He took me to their graves and he told me that it was an accident. Over and over and repeated that it was an accident. That a rock slide crushed their car. No one did anything wrong and no one could have been able to prevent it."
"That helped?"
"No. In fact, I tried to blame my mother. She hadn't done anything wrong, she hadn't sent them on an errand, she hadn't… I wanted to blame someone. They were gone and my mom was an easy target."
"She didn't fight back?"
"She'd lost her husband and daughter and her other daughter was blaming her. I think she just took it. Blamed herself along with me. She was mourning them just like I was. I think that's what you're not letting yourself do."
"What? I didn't lose anything."
"Do you know what my grandfather told me in the end? He said that I could be angry at my father and sister for not being there anymore. For abandoning me. That I could mourn a future that I lost without ever having it. I could feel the way I did and that was okay."
"I don't… I'm not… I don't know what I feel."
"That's okay. You don't have to know how you feel. Just don't do what I did. Don't hide behind a different emotion because it's too scary to face the one you already feel.
Sighing Wes dropped his head against his friends once more. He was so tired of thinking about his mother and birth family. When he had started to think about visiting his mother and facing the things he had been pushing aside he had questioned if he had been doing the right thing. He was just so tired of running, but the idea of facing it sounded just as exhausting.
"I don't know what to do," Wes muttered staring at the overturned collage.
"I wish I could tell you," Clary replied placing a kiss to the side of his head, "But no matter what I'll be here for you."
"Thanks, buttercup."
"Anytime, dear heart."