(PART THREE)

…

The silence was unnerving.

The palace nurse closed the door behind Wesley, leaving him alone in the bathroom of the hospital wing with a pile of clean clothes. He rubbed his hand over his face, wincing when he touched the fresh stitches over his right eyebrow. He hadn't even noticed being cut up by the glass of the broken windshield, but Nick had rushed him straight to the small hospital wing still in operation for small things to get him checked out.

Wesley reached down to unbutton his shirt but stopped.

It was soaked with blood.

The sleeves were stuck to his arms and suddenly he could feel the heaviness of dried blood. It was stained all down the front, even the buttons were tinted rusty. Blood was dripped on his pant legs, even on his shoes.

Wesley looked up. The mirror reflected back a face he didn't even recognize. There was even more blood, splattered over his face and dried darker even more there. The nurse had wiped some of it away from his forehead, which was swollen from the stitches. His chin had a grisly scrape from somewhere, and the nurse had cleaned it up, but it still looked gross. There was blood that probably wasn't his was smeared on the other side of his face, flecked on his ear and going into his hair. He tried to wipe it away, but it was useless. He stepped closer to the mirror above the sink and heard the squelch of his shoes sticking to the floor and he knew there was blood there too. Wesley scrubbed at his face, but the dried blood only peeled off in little bits, tinging his hands red.

He started to unbutton the shirt as fast as he could, but his hands were shaking so hard it took him a good several minutes. He ripped it off, and there was blood on the t-shirt he was wearing underneath too so he yanked it off next. He turned on both faucets and scrubbed his hands and then his face. The water in the basin was bloody, the sink ceramic was bloody, his face was still bloody. He closed his eyes and kept scrubbing.

He couldn't hold back the memories. Hiding in the trees with Lissa, hiding from the rebels, grazed and bleeding badly by a bullet. Blood on the snow, blood on his hands. Can't breathe, can't breathe, dying on the floor of an airplane, his chest ruined in his nightmares, kneeling on the floor of the car waiting for Vera to come back or someone to come to kill him, Elvira lying on the seat as pale as the bloody snow somehow still alive.

He threw up in the toilet. There was blood there too.

…

Wesley didn't know how long he stayed in the bathroom, but he finally got all the blood off him and off the sink and the floor. He put on the clean clothes the nurse had someone get from his room for him. He needed to go smoke but he had left his cigarettes in his room for what was supposed to be his date with Vera. His face was starting to ache around the stitches now that the anesthetic had worn off and this day felt ten times longer than he wanted it to. Now all the exhilaration of about to be killed had worn off and Wesley was so ready to end today. There had been word from the hospital that Elvira was there, still alive, and in surgery and that he wasn't allowed to see her but as soon as she was ready, they would tell him. He caught a glimpse of Vera getting checked out as he left, getting a deep gash on her arm cleaned, but Wesley didn't stay.

Everyone was in the Main Hall when he came out of the hospital wing. Nick had told him they were in the safe rooms as a precaution and it looked like they had just come out. He didn't have time to even say hi before his mother was running up to him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug, her hand on the back of his head. She held him a little tighter even after Wesley started to pull away, then released him, keeping her hands on his arms. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, and Wesley was struck by how old his mom suddenly looked.

He smiled to reassure her. "Mom, it's okay. I'm fine."

"I thought," she started, swallowing hard. "I thought I might have lost you too. There was no news of you, no one knew what had happened…" she shook her head, overcome with emotion. Wesley hugged her again, and this time he didn't pull away until she did. She touched his stiches on his forehead.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Wesley shook his head. "Nah, I just got a little scraped up. I'm perfectly fine."

Andrew was talking to Ethan and Nick and some of the other higher up guards, but he saw Wesley and made a beeline over to him. He wrapped him in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you're okay, Wes," he said. "I would never forgive myself if you weren't."

"It all happened so fast," their mother said, "I didn't even know about the threat until it already happened."

Ethan hugged Wesley too, accidentally bashing the nasty scrape on his chin against Ethan's shoulder. It was probably oozing something even nastier now.

"You're okay?" Ethan asked, looking down at Wesley. He and Andrew both had a few inches on him, and especially now that everyone was hugging him.

"Yeah," Wesley said, trying to smile at everyone to reassure them, and cracking the stupid chin scrape that hurt way more than the actual stitches in his forehead. "I just hope Elvira will be too,"

"She will be," Nicole said, and of course she hugged him too. "She's the toughest person I know."

She and Christine and Nat and Ben and of course all the kids hugged him and made sure he was okay and reassured him that all their friends who lived in Angeles were safe. Wesley was vaguely aware of the nine girls watching them awkwardly but not awkwardly enough to leave.

So was Lissa, who had been with Evie and Sophie and was standing with a few other of the higher-level staff who had probably been with the rest of his family when they had taken refuge in the safe rooms.

Okay, but why did she have to look so gorgeous all the time? She had her hair pinned up today, but some little pieces had come loose and were falling around her face and she saw him and Wesley watched her face light up before she could stop it and all he wanted to do was go hug her and to hear her tell him everything was going to be okay. She smiled right at him and there was so much hope in her face that he felt like all his little pieces were going to explode. He tried to smile back but the disgusting scrape on his chin stopped him halfway.

Leave her alone, he told himself. His family had started to disperse now, taking the kids to bed and everything. Wesley was starving and had definitely missed dinner, but he had to get some answers first. Andrew and Ethan were still talking to the guards, so Wesley joined them. They finished their conversation quickly.

"We need to talk," he said to them. "We need a Council meeting."

General Connelly was on a trip in Ottaro and Adele and Colin were locked down in their home outside of the city, and Elvira was not here, of course, so it was just the brothers and Ben.

"What happened?" Wesley said as soon as the door closed behind them.

His brothers exchanged a look.

"He has to know," Ben said. "He was there."

Andrew looked back at Wesley. "We don't have any specifics yet and the only four suspects are dead. Lady Vera killed two of them. But there's a group of our former soldiers claiming responsibility for the attack. They're protesting our treatment of the rebels."

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked.

Ethan sighed heavily. "They don't think we should have let the northern provinces surrender without a fight and they're angry about our treatment of the rebels. They think we should have punished the rebel provinces more. And they're demanding the remaining girls from the seceded provinces leave the Selection too."

That would be Georgia and Fallon and Vera. Valette and Reese had already gone home.

"What else? What about the people at the gala?"

Andrew shook his head. "The bomb was pretty powerful. The whole hotel was incinerated in seconds. It's still early but as far as we can tell it was supposed to go off during the event not before it started."

"How many casualties?"

"Almost twenty so far. Some employees, some early guests, some people who just happened to be walking by. Six people were shot immediately after. We can confirm you and Lady Vera were the targets. it could have been a whole lot worse."

Wesley closed his eyes as if it could protect him from the news. Nearly sixty people had died, and he was still here.

"It could have been a lot better too."

"It's not your fault," Ethan said. "None of it is your fault."

Wesley clenched his hands into fists, trying to calm down a little. "I can't understand why they would attack us if they're mad at the rebels. And it was a gala honoring them! That doesn't make any sense. That just makes them rebels in their own way."

"We don't know," Andrew shrugged. "Right now, I need to make a statement. We're having a special airing of the Report. People need to know you're okay and what happened today. None of the ladies will be leaving and we're not giving in to any of their demands."

Wesley nodded. "Okay."

"The Council is going to meet again in the morning," Ethan said. "We'll need to discuss with everyone how to move forward from here."

"Okay," Wesley said again, stifling a yawn.

"Some of the ladies have been very worried about you too," Andrew said, starting to get up. "You should talk to them."

"You should also get some sleep," Ben added. "You look terrible."

"Gee thanks. I feel terrible," Wesley leaned back in his chair. "I'm always down to get drunk if you guys are game?"

The three more responsible adults exchanged another look.

"Sorry Wes," Ethan said, leaning forward in his chair and smiling ruefully. "We're going to working pretty much all night."

"That's what I get for moving into the palace with Nat," Ben groaned, rubbing his face in his hands. "This sucks."

"You get the night off since you almost died and stuff," Andrew said, clapping his hand on Wesley's shoulder.

"Lame," Wesley told the three of them. "Fine, I'll just be lonely…I guess."

The truth was, right now, he really, really didn't want to be lonely. He didn't want a night off, he needed something to keep him busy.

It was a welcome surprise to come around the corner into the Main Hall and find nine out of ten of the Selected arranged on the stairs.

They were waiting for him. They all looked up in expectation as they saw him. Even the girls he was sure didn't like him at all were here, like Fallon and Dresden. Vera was missing, but she probably got a night off too.

Eleanor, of course, was the first one up and she flung herself at Wesley, practically knocking him down she hugged him so hard, her arms tight around his neck.

But it was…nice.

"I was so worried," she whispered into his ear, her hair tickling his face. Wesley wrapped his arms around her waist and held her just as tight, taking a second to breathe in her soft lavender perfume. She let him go after a minute, and he noticed her blushing. "We decided to wait for you," she offered, looking at the others for help as they gathered around him. "To make sure you're okay."

In spite of himself, Wesley grinned. "Wow, I didn't even think you guys liked me half the time," he said, half in joking. To be honest, half the time it seemed like most of them didn't truly care deeply about him at all, and he often thought Lissa cared way more than any of the girls. But to see them here gathered around him, waiting for him and being worried for him and so relieved at his return, it was really, really nice.

"Of course we like you," Alyex said, touching his arm warmly and then hugging him. "Why else would be here?"

"I can think of a couple reasons," Wesley joked as Alyex pulled away, smiling hugely up at him. "You definitely should have left after I threw up in your hat at the fair."

"Probably!" Alyex giggled.

Ophelia came up next. "You're lucky you had Vera with you and not me, I would have been so useless," she said, and it came out almost bashfully. There was an awkward moment as he thought she might hug him but didn't, so Wesley held out his arms and she immediately stepped into them, laying her head on his shoulder and holding him tight for a moment.

"I was pretty useless myself, honestly," Wesley admitted. "Vera totally saved my ass."

Veyra hugged him next, a light hug, expected for someone that he didn't think would be a hugger. "Your ass needs saving a lot, Shreave," she said, smiling a half-smirk, half-smile. "I'm so happy you came back. Not everyone does."

"Yeah," Wesley nodded, looking down. "Not everyone did." He didn't even know the driver's name, but the man had been killed in front of him. Veyra grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Wesley hugged Iris and Lillian as they came up, both girls looked like they had been crying, but they were all huge smiles now.

"I'm so relieved that it wasn't worse," Ophelia said. "And I'm so sorry about Captain Entrinken, but hopefully she'll pull through."

"It was pretty terrible already," Georgia reminded them from where she stood aloof on the outskirts of the group. She tipped her chin down. "But yeah, glad you're okay."

"We were all crying when they told us," Eleanor said, and Wesley noticed Georgia glare at her. "Okay, well most of us," she amended hastily.

"The shit really would have hit the fan if you had died," Dresden added from the back. "And the country would really have gone bad."

"Uh, yeah," Wesley didn't really know how to take that one, but he stepped forward to give Dresden a quick hug anyway, which she returned with as little contact as possible before stepping away.

"And for other reasons too," Ophelia said. "We're just…really glad you made it. It must have been terrible."

Wesley looked around at the girls, and though there was a warm feeling in his chest, he realized that Ophelia would have no idea what any of that was like. He saw Fallon lurking shyly in the background, the only one still dressed from dinner.

"Hi, Fallon," he said, acknowledging her. She smiled a polite smile and started to step forward out of obligation, and Wesley moved to give her a hug too so she wouldn't feel left out, but she backed up a step, her hands out in front of her.

"You have blood in your hair," was all she said, ducking her head as she spoke to her dark bangs fell around her face. Wesley reached up to find a sticky spot around his left ear. Fallon wouldn't meet his eyes anymore.

Wesley looked around at all the smiling faces and ignored the part of his brain screaming at him to go outside and smoke a cigarette or do a shot. He wanted to be, here, he really did, he wanted to hear them tell they were happy he was safe and feel the genuine happiness when they hugged him, to know that one of these girls would be his wife, and to just relax.

But mostly, he just wanted to talk to Vera.

She was the only person that knew what he went through today, and he didn't want to be with the rest of the Elite. He only wanted to be with her.

Well, Lissa was his first choice, but he was going to do what she asked him to and leave her alone. She wouldn't understand today either, but she would listen.

Wesley said his goodbyes to the Selected and went off to find a drink.

…

For Vera Montgomery, sleep wouldn't come easily. It hadn't for a while and tonight was going to be no exception. She propped her bare feet on the railing of her balcony, looking out over the city of Angeles below her. There was too much light pollution to properly see the stars, they were just dim pinpricks of light from here. It was a far cry from St. George, where the stars were so brilliant, she could practically reach out and touch them, sometimes accompanied by the shimmering northern lights. It was too hot here, there were too many people and not enough space, not enough trees and too far away from the mountains. Vera didn't like Angeles or the palace very much, but she didn't want to go home either. All the snow and evergreens and mountains and stars couldn't pull her back there. There wasn't anything left for her there anyway. The evergreens were destroyed and gone, and the mountains haunted, and the snow would always be bloodstained in her head no matter how much she tried.

Vera was pretty sure the only good thing about the palace anymore was her bathrobe. She loved that thing. And whenever she got kicked out of here, she was stealing it no matter what. She had it on over her favorite pajama shorts and a worn-out flannel from home. She wasn't homesick, exactly, but she still wanted to feel a little like herself. Having her wet hair still in a towel from the hour-long shower she had taken was definitely working, as was sitting on her balcony, her favorite place in this strange new world of the Selection.

For a while, it had been nice, to make a fresh start here. To live somewhere that wasn't tainted by bad memories and bad choices and death. Deep down, Vera knew she had no choice for her actions today. Those men would have killed her, they would have killed Wesley, they would have killed all the guards, they might have already killed Captain Entrinken. It wasn't the first time she had killed someone, not by any means, and it got to a point where she was just so numb to it.

But it was still going to keep her up tonight. And probably for a lot of nights to come.

She hugged her knees to her chest and looked out over the lights of the city. If she stared at them long enough, they blurred to something indistinguishable, and her head followed suit. It was easier to be numb, to not think. It was always easier.

Vera didn't answer the knock on her door even though she had sent her maid away hours ago when she had returned. She barely heard it. She didn't want to move or think or go back to what happened.

Which was why it was a little surprising when a beer bottle appeared in front of her, dangled over her head.

"Can't sleep either?" It was Wesley's voice, matched with the faint smell of the douchey cologne or deodorant or whatever it was he wore. "I thought there might be a chance you were still up too. Oh, and no one answered the door."

"Yeah… I couldn't sleep. I didn't hear it." Vera said, unwrapping her hair from the towel and draping it over the side of the chair. He was loud and his words were just sloppy enough to tell Vera that he had already partaken in the beer, also judging by the fact that the bottle he was giving her was already missing some. She uncurled her legs and took the bottle. She turned around in her chair to face him.

"Thanks," she said, giving him a little smile. He grinned back, and though thoughts of her brother came first to her mind, Wesley was anything but. His hair was a mess, and he looked terrible, that was true, but he wasn't yelling or breaking things or anything that Luke ever did when he was drinking. From what Vera had seen of Drunk Wesley, he was harmless. He talked louder and laughed more and giggled a lot and had even less of a filter than usual, but it was almost cute.

He came around the armchair she had dragged out here and leaned against the railing to face her, taking a drink from his half-empty bottle. "I kind of hate beer, but I didn't know what you liked, and I think this is what you were drinking during that karaoke party."

Vera couldn't help but be endeared by him. "It's okay," she said. Normally she didn't like to drink but her brain was too tired to argue right now. "I kind of hate beer too,"

"Oh well, great!" Wesley held out his bottle and clinked it against her. "I actually do this a lot, because I hate drinking alone, but this way I won't get super drunk super-fast because I'm still a total lightweight. You don't have to drink it, though. You can just sit with me and I'll drink."

"I guess I don't really have a choice, seeing as you broke into my room," Vera dramatically rolled her eyes to let him know she was teasing him.

Wesley laughed loudly. "It was unlocked!"

Vera smiled, and Wesley's laughter quieted down. He took a drink from his beer and looked at the ground. He fumbled through his jeans pockets. She saw him take out a red lighter, holding it tightly in his fist.

"You can smoke if you want. It doesn't bother me," Vera said. "Well, it does because it is disgusting and bad for you, but I know you do it and you don't want anyone to know."

"How'd you know that?" Wesley gaped at her, looking surprised and slightly offended. "No one knows that! Was it my valet? Because I swear-"

"No, I saw you that night of the karaoke party, I was in the gardens, remember?"

"I thought I was sneaky," Wesley said, lighting one all the same. "You want one?"

"No, thanks though," Vera said.

"I'm going to quit," he mumbled, talking around the cigarette as he smoked. "Just…not tonight."

"Makes sense," Vera sipped her beer.

Wesley was quiet for a few minutes.

"So today was crazy, huh?" He had the sleeves of his hoodie pulled over his hands and the hood up and he looked small and sad standing there. He said it like it didn't matter, but she knew it did.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"How about we play a game?" Wesley said. "Have you ever played I Never?"

"What?"

"I Never," Wesley repeated, reaching forward to clink his beer bottle against hers again.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Vera asked him.

He shrugged. "Call it a way to get to know each other better. All I do is say 'I never' and then finish the sentence with something I've never done. If it's something you did, you drink. If it's something you never did, you don't drink. You're supposed to do it with shots or liquor, but whatevs. We can do it with beer. You seriously never played this? You were in the military!"

Vera shrugged her shoulders. "Nope."

"Well, I'll go first. I never kissed a man," Wesley said, giving her a smug look. Vera rolled her eyes at him and took a drink, and Wesley somehow managed to look even smugger. "Your turn."

Vera sat up in her chair. "I never played I Never before tonight," she said.

"Mean," Wesley said, drinking. "I never went on a road trip."

Vera didn't drink.

"Wait, really? Seriously? That's just sad."

"You've never been either!" Vera protested.

"Yeah, but I'm a prince! Okay, whatever, you go."

Vera leaned back. "I never smoked a cigarette."

Wesley took a dramatic gulp of his beer and slid down the railing to sit on the ground facing her. "You're just plain cruel, Vera."

"Hey, you came here to drink anyway, that's what you said!"

Wesley thought for a moment. "I've never had an actual girlfriend."

"I've never had a girlfriend," Vera fired back, and Wesley rubbed his forehead with a groan.

"I meant relationship!" he lamented, his words starting to blur together a little. Wesley was nearly out of beer by then, but he got Vera to pour some of hers into his bottle.

She couldn't hold back a smile as she thought of her next question. "I never got so blackout drunk I passed out in the middle of a party," Vera said, remembering the karaoke date.

Wesley tossed his hand up in the air and tipped back his beer bottle. "I gotta drink for each one," he said, coughing a little.

"Your turn," Vera reminded him.

Wesley shrugged. "I never been engaged."

It stung a little, to think about Carter. It stung even more that he brought it up-Vera remembered telling him while they were hiding in the car, the words pouring out of her and not stopping as she choked on the memories until it became too much and she had to puke.

"Cheap shot," she muttered, drinking.

"You started it!" Wesley protested, almost giggling.

"Yeah, but I was joking. I wasn't getting personal." He was starting to get on her nerves, harmless as he was. She never liked intoxicated people.

"Well geez, so-ory," Wesley said, taking a drink even though it wasn't part of the game. His happy face quickly turned sour.

"I think you've had a little too much of that," Vera said, nodding to the beer. Wesley looked at her like he was trying to figure out if she was joking or not, and then started to get up. It took him a few tries from his perch sitting against the railing. He didn't leave though.

She wanted to push him away, she really did. She wanted to tell him to leave her alone so she could go back to solitude on her balcony, alone with the memories. But she had to admit, having him here, annoying as he was, it was somehow a little bit better. And maybe, just maybe, he might understand.

"I never saw my friends and family die right in front of me," Vera blurted out, but she drank right after she said it. It took Wesley a second to comprehend, but then he looked away and tipped back his bottle into his mouth.

"Only one real friend, not counting Elvira," he said quietly. "And only my dad."

Vera nodded. "I told you mine in the car earlier."

"I've never been shot," Wesley said, and he took a drink right after like she had done. Vera looked at him, but he didn't make eye contact. She drank too, not really sure if they were still playing.

"Both shoulders," she whispered. "I was sixteen. Probably should have died because they both got infected. I got a graze later on my thigh," her fingers involuntarily traced the scar on her leg. "You?"

He was taking off his sweatshirt and unbuttoning his shirt then, nearly upsetting his beer bottle. He pulled the fabric away from his left side. There was a knotted scar on the side of a darker area by his hipbone. "In the gut, here. I probably should have died too." He finally looked at her. "And I was sixteen."

"Was that when they took over the palace?" Vera asked.

Wesley shook his head. "Nah. Before. It was my birthday." He leaned over and rolled up his pant leg. "I got grazed in my leg too, but in my calf. Bled everywhere."

"Small world, huh," Vera mused, sipping her beer.

"Yep," Wesley nodded. He opened his mouth and started to say something but stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

"Tell me anyway," Vera said. "I don't care."

"It's really not important," Wesley said, "I was just going to tell you about this nightmare I have, I don't know why. It's not even a nightmare, it just comes sometimes in my head. I swear I'm going crazy sometimes," he shook his head. "There was this one time, in Ottaro, we were the last people at an airport, and the rebels attacked it and took over. Elvira started one of the planes and we got out of there fine—her, me and my copilot, my friend Drake. But my brain likes to twist it around and I get shot in the chest and there's blood everywhere and I'm dying, and I can't breathe and sometimes I can feel it and it scares me to death."

Vera nodded, but she didn't really know what to say. She had enough nightmares of her own to deal with, there was no way really to help him. She awkwardly patted his knee in front of her. "We're okay now."

It was something she told herself over and over again lately, but this was the first time she had said since, well, today.

Wesley looked at her and she knew he understood what she had just realized herself.

"We're supposed to be," he agreed, then continued. "But we're not."

Vera shook her head and leaned back in her chair. She pulled her knees back up to her chest. "I never killed anyone." She drank again, Wesley's joking words from earlier haunting her about drinking for each one.

Wesley drank too.

"Well," Vera said. Wesley's eyes flicked to hers as she spoke. "Looks like we got a couple things in common after all."

She was beginning to think that Wesley did understand it all.

"Can I ask you something?" he didn't wait for her to reply. Why did you leave the car? Earlier today…you could have been killed."

Vera didn't have an answer to that, so she remained quiet.

"The way I see it," Wesley said, his voice cautious. "You're either a hero or you want to die."

Vera took a drink from her beer. "I'm not a hero."

"I kind of think you are."

"Killing people doesn't make you a hero," Vera said. She shoved one hand into her hair to lean her head against. She just wanted to be alone. "I'm not saying I want to die; I just want to make things right. So maybe if I save enough people, it will be."

Wesley looked at her, and then he smiled. "You saved me."

He reached over and patted her lightly on the arm. It made Vera's chest feel a little bit warmer than before and she decided that maybe being alone wasn't the only option.

…