The Path to Hell
Summary: Wesley sits in the hospital alone with his thoughts.
Disclaimer: I don't own nor did I create Angel or its characters. I am making no money off of this story (it's not that good).
Rating: G with slight (read: virtually nonexistent) Slashiness.
A/N: This takes place after the Ep. Forgiving. Annika, I know you think I am sympathizing too much with Angel but I swear that I intended this to sympathize with both sides.
With his throat stitched and bandaged Wesley couldn't talk or even utter a raspy half-formed word. No, he was left to silence and, well, writing pads and laptops, but mostly silence. He was so sick of it, the emptiness of it was driving him crazy. Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate, it was more like he was afraid of the silence. For, in silence, the absence of sound, all he was left with was his thoughts; and the unpleasantness of his own company.
When his friends came to visit the looks they gave him tore at his heart and conscience. Sure, they said they understood why he did what he did but that didn't make them agree with it or miss little Connor any less. Looking into their pitying and grief stricken eyes he desperately felt the need to explain himself to them, even if it wouldn't change the past or the present. He didn't want forgiveness for doing what he believed was right at the time, that didn't matter, because whether he believed it was right or not the outcome was still tragic...and he now firmly believed that the path to hell was paved with good intentions.
Was Angel being fair about all this, no. He once betrayed them as well, and they forgave him, but this was his child- the one he thought he would never have (and likely never have again). So, even though it wasn't fair, fairness wasn't even a consideration when it came to one's own child.
Angel, he was the one that could kill him-with just his hands or a weapon (like a pillow), but more importantly with only his eyes. Those gentle and soft eyes that once gazed upon him with love and trust were now hard and full of hate. God, that hurt more than anything! He didn't think anyone could hate him more than he hated himself until he looked into the eyes of the man he had inadvertently robbed of his most precious possession. He had never told anyone but of all his friends he loved Angel the most. He was never sure if it was awe, hero-worship, envy, reverence, or something more; all he knew was that he was the only person he ever gave his life to.
He was fully aware of the consequences of his actions. When he walked out the door believing that he was saving Connor his ends justified the means (as Machiavelli would say), but when he learned that it was all a lie he knew his fate was sealed. He committed love's cardinal sin: Never betray, let down, or hurt the person whose love you cannot live without. If Gunn, Fred, or even Cordelia grew to hate him (Heaven forbid) it would hurt like hell but eventually he would move on. With Angel he knew the pain would not lessen with time, he would always feel like he was rotting from the inside like a piece of fruit filled with vermin rotting on the tree or vine.
And Connor, poor little Connor. He was with Holtz now, in some hell dimension! How could he atone for what he did to that baby. Somehow "sorry, but I was trying to save you" just didn't cut it. It would have been better if he had died. Which was so ironic considering that death was what he was trying to save him from. When he closed his eyes his could see him looking at his "uncle Wes" with so much trust and fondness...well, he tried to not think of his face or his laugh...his cry...his toys...diapers...anything that was/is his.
He wanted so much to be able to talk but when he thought about it he realized that he had no idea what he would say when he could talk. What would he say to the gang...to Angel? Well, probably nothing to Angel considering that it would not be good for his recovery to be in a room with him. Cordelia would be devastated, Fred and Gunn were confused and hurt, and Lorne was, understandably, angry and hurt.
When he left he knew they would all feel like this but he didn't expect to have to actually see it or deal with it. This was the scenario he had no contingency plan for. He was flying by the seat of his pants and he had no idea where he was headed. Which really did not matter cause anywhere was better than here. But, no, he would not run. He had already thought about that and discounted the idea. Even if Angel wanted him to leave he owed it to him to stay and atone (read: suffer) for what he did. Also, he wanted to try and repair his relationship with everyone as best he could. Everything would be different but that was to be expected, change was inevitable and something was much better than nothing at all.
In the silence one question kept playing itself over and over in his head: How did everything change and go bad so quickly? The events that had the biggest impact on your life happened the most quickly it seemed. There were so many things he would do differently given the chance: he would have never gone to Holtz, he would have confided in his friends about what he had found, he would have never hit Lorne...Love and Hate were the sprinters in the race we call life but regret and guilt were the long distance runners.
A few more weeks until he could even attempt to talk and what would he do until then? The thoughts in his head were torturous, the feeling in his gut was painful, and the silence was overwhelming...with no outlet he was a virtual prisoner of his body, and he wasn't sure if he could take it. He felt like dying but he wouldn't...he owed it to Fred, Gunn, Cordelia, Lorne, Connor and Angel, especially him, to live. He was currently on the path to hell but, with time, he hoped to one day be on the path to redemption and maybe, just maybe, he would walk side by side with Angel on the way there.