All I Need

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then I don't own it.

A/N: For 2021 Whumptober #24 Revenge

Travis sat his coffee cup on his desk, taking a seat with a smirk. Wes was nowhere to be seen. Travis couldn't wait to rub it in his partner's face that he beat him to work, which automatically made the blond man late. The normally punctual detective never shut up about being professional by getting to work on time. He would now never hear the end of it because Travis would never let him forget about this incident.

He stifled a bubbling chuckle as he answered his ringing phone.

The smile dropped from his lips as his face drained of color as he immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"Hey, Marks," John Crowell greeted in his unmistakable deep voice.

"What do you want, asshole?" Travis growled trying to keep the other man from noticing how rattled he was, "Using your one phone call to annoy the hell out of me, even from prison?"

The man just chuckled ruthlessly, "You should really keep better track of your friends."

"Wes," Travis gripped the phone hard, wishing he could reach through the receiver and strangle the man on the other end, "If you even cause one wrinkle into his suit, you bastard, I'll kill you."

"You should have left it alone. I told you he was not gonna survive this; I didn't mean your careers. He's done."

"Where is he?" Travis practically begged, being assaulted by images of Paekman's dead body carelessly laid out in some dark parking lot. His friend had been alone when he had been shot in the back by a man who was supposed to have it, a fellow cop. Now Wes was alone and in trouble. He couldn't lose another friend.

"Another tough one, kid," Crowell smirked, ''Rewind this call over and over in your head as you are, once again, too late to save a friend from my bullet."

The call ended as he sat numbly, strangling the phone receiver until his hands were bleached of blood as his fingers cramped. He felt frozen in the awful moment until abruptly the world began spinning once more at a rapid pace. He dropped the phone back into its cradle with a clatter, knocking his coffee over with his arm as he turned, hollering for the Captian.

He watched the hot, dark liquid splatter as it spilled all over Wes' desk. Papers soaked up the coffee as it spread farther and farther. He watched with a morbid fascination as it ruined everything in its path, leaving no item untouched. His partner would kill him... unless he was already dead.

"Travis," The Captian called his name, gripping his arm in concern.

"He's got Wes," Travis confessed softly.

"Who does?" The Captian asked, rage building up behind his eyes. He may now be into mediation and inner peace but nobody messed with his boys without feeling his wrath.

Travis began to answer when his phone began to ring once more. He ripped the phone from the cradle, hitting the speakerphone anticipating Crowell to call again to gloat some more. The speaker on the other hand was not the ex-SIS but was just as unwelcome. It was the prison letting the witnesses, Travis and Wes, know that the man they had been vital in putting behind bars had escaped prison that morning.

"Thanks a hell of a lot for nothing," Travis just wanted to scream in frustration. He hadn't killed that bastard, because he'd promised Wes he wouldn't. Now Crowell was free and had Wes. He'd killed Paekman and now he had Wes. Travis gratefully handed the phone to his commanding officer when he asked for it as he fell into his chair in defeat. The Captian would take care of it, get the details of the escape and begin planning the manhunt for his missing officer in the time it took Travis to have his mini-breakdown.

His hands shook badly as he holstered his loaded weapon. Wes was not here to stop him from putting a bullet into the damn murder's head. He wasn't in a good place and he had no friends to pull him out of it. He was alone.

Crowell would take Wes back to where it all began. The check-cashing place in the valley. The place where he killed Paekman. He would wait for Travis to figure it out and then he would kill his partner in front of him while he was helpless to stop it.

He excused himself to use the restroom, one look at his haunted look and nobody even tried to stop him. He was out of the building and on his bike before anyone thought to keep him from doing anything rash. Wes gave him crap for being unpredictable but without the blond shadow behind him to temper his impulses to leap before he looked he was ready to do whatever it took and damn the consequences to save his friend.

He parked his bike and looked around the area in the light of day. The last time he was there he'd lost a friend. Checking to make sure his gun was ready to fire he took a deep breath before he walked towards where he knew Wes was. He entered the building, it appeared deserted, not an employee or customer in sight. It was a trap but he knew that before he entered.

"John Crowell," He shouted, "Come out and face me like a man, you back-shooting coward."

"I didn't think you would be here so quickly," The large man called back as he stepped out of the back office. He held a bruised and bloody Wes in front of him like a human shield. The lean man was unsteady on his feet as was frog marched to stand before his partner. "The sedative hasn't made it through his system yet."

"What did you do to him," Travis tried to catch his partner's wandering gaze. He was definitely still under the influence of something.

"He didn't want to help me throw this little surprise party. A little late for Paecman's birthday, but I think he'd like it, all his friends are here for him. Mitchell, here, was being a pompous ass and needed a little incentive to help out."

"Let him go," Travis ground out through clenched teeth as Wes swayed drunkenly. Crowell tightened his grip viciously causing a hiss of pain to escape past Wes' lips. He looked beat to hell. Bruises covered his face, under the blood trails leading from his nose and mouth. His suit was disarrayed and splattered in blood and his tie was missing.

"I told you not to wrinkle his suit," Travis spoke his open-ended threat as he finally made prolonged eye contact with his partner. Wes was hurting and sluggish but he was ready to follow his partner's lead and take the bastard down once more.

Wes swung his head back harshly, catching his captor in the face, before going completely limp giving Travis the opening he needed to take out Crowell.

The sound of just one shot was all that was heard before Travis was rushing to his downed partner's side. Wes had remained on the floor too weak and dazed to get up under his own power.

"He escaped," Wes said in disgust, "We didn't take that into account."

"Nope, it didn't go our way," Travis admitted, offering his hand, "You need some help?"

"Nah, I'm good," Wes ignored the helping hand, trying to make it up on his own. He fell on his ass with a sound of pain.

"Sure, you're good," Travis couldn't help the smile spreading over his face as he looked down at his pigheaded partner. He ignored Wes' protest as he grabbed his arm, pulling the drugged man up, pulling it over his shoulder to keep him upright. If his hand lingered on the back of his neck just under the blond hair, relishing in the fast but strong pulse beneath his fingers neither of them mentioned it.

"You promised you wouldn't shoot him," Wes looked down at the dead body a wry smile twisting his mouth as he allowed his partner to hold up his weight.

"I promised I wouldn't shoot him for killing Paekman. I didn't. This wasn't revenge, this was a rescue mission."

"It was revenge for him," Wes started to sway, "Crowell could have been out of the country by now."

"That's what got him killed," Travis said as he helped his best friend out of the building. They shared a look of understanding. Paekman may be gone, but he wouldn't want his friends to ruin their lives in pursuit of revenge; he'd want them to keep living life to the fullest. As partners and friends, they intended to honor his wishes.