Any others you don't recognize are mine.
Sexual content, including m/m contact; language; violence.
This is slash, it includes sexual situations between two men. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, don't read this.
Reviews are always appreciated.
Back to waiting. At least they had gotten a little fresh air into the room during their fight. Wes smiled a little at the thought and leaned against the wall, touching his ribs again. They hurt, every breath sending a fresh stab of pain, but he didn't want to say anything. It was easing up a little, anyway, now that he was sitting quietly. No point in telling Eric, nothing he could do about it. When the time came, they'd both have to fight, anyway. He tried in vain to find a more comfortable position, the room, the darkness, suddenly seeming more oppressive.
"God, I'm really starting to hate this room," he said softly.
"Hang in there." Eric's voice came again after a few moments. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Thought that was my line. Next thing, you'll be saying you don't need my help."
"Hah." Wes laughed for a breath, and regretted it when his ribs protested. It was quiet again, reaction was setting in, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded despite the ache in his side. He closed his eyes. "It's so dark," he said. "Sitting here, in trouble, waiting for our morphers to recharge... It's like the clock tower..." His eyes snapped open as he realized what he had said.
"The clock tower. You mean that night."
"Yeah," Wes said after a pause.
"But I guess the same thing won't happen again."
"Eric…" Wes's voice sharpened. "Cut it out."
"Why? Because we're not supposed to talk about it?"
"That's right. Unless promises don't mean anything to you."
"Sometimes I think that promise should never have been made." Eric's voice was low, and harsh. Wes could hear him shift his position against the wall nearby. "I'm tired of it, Wes. I'm tired of pretending it never happened. Tired of watching you lie to yourself. It did happen, and you should face up to what it means."
"I'm not gay, if that's what you're getting at! Just because you didn't get what you wanted, don't try to convince me I'm something I'm not!"
"This isn't about me, or what I want. Believe it or not, I'd like you to be happy. But I see you wasting your life, dreaming about a woman you know you'll never see again. If you're straight, fine. I have no problem with that, I hope you get married and have fifty kids, and I'll never say another word about it. But I think you're not straight, and I think you're so determined not to admit it that you'll wait until half of your life is gone-"
"God damn it to hell, I still love Jen, can't you accept that? I'm just not interested in anyone else. And I'm certainly not interested in you!"
Silence, after that, as Wes heard Eric change positions restlessly again. It stretched for a few seconds, until he spoke again. "Just tell me why, then, Wes. Why did you do it? Why didn't you say no, or punch me, or whatever a straight guy would probably do?"
"I don't know why. It just… just happened…" Wes closed his eyes, the dark bringing the images back, the ones from his dreams, the empty space, ceiling high above them, dim light shining through a giant clock face, falling over them…
It had been during their final battle, or the first part of it. After Wes had tricked Jen, Trip, Lucas, and Katie into the timeship Alex had sent for them, and programmed the autopilot to take them home, to safety, or so he thought. He knew it was foolish, that he and Eric had little chance to defeat Ransik's killer robot by themselves, but he couldn't bear the thought of Jen and the others dying here, not even in their own time. And he remembered what Alex had said about him. He wouldn't make it. If he had to die, at least his friends would live.
There was no time for tears as he watched the ship take off, still hearing Jen's voice coming from his morpher, begging to stay and fight at his side. No time, when Eric was facing their enemies alone. He ran back to his motorcycle, and sped to the city, finding it had become a battleground.
Eric had been demorphed and injured when Wes found him and rescued him from a band of cyclobots. They had limped off together, found a place to rest for a few moments, and to talk. It was the first time Eric had really talked to him, about himself, about growing up poor and alone, about knowing there had never been anyone to care for him. About his envy and resentment of the easy and comfortable life Wes had been born into. But Wes had talked too, and maybe even convinced him that in a deeper sense, they had something in common, that they were bound together by something stronger than affection, purer than blood, by the shared responsibility of their power. That moment had been the real beginning of their new friendship. The friendship that came so close to ending disastrously only hours later.
The clock tower had seemed like the safest place to go. They could hide there, and Wes's teammates had left some medical equipment that would repair the worst of Eric's injuries. It seemed like a long trip, limping through streets scattered with wreckage, trying not to be seen by cyclobots. They made it just as the sun was setting.
A long and painful climb upstairs, Eric pale and sweating by the time they reached the top; the clock tower Wes had spent such happy times in, now dark and feeling terribly empty. Half an hour to use the medical equipment and bandage Eric up. And then they tried to relax, to get some rest while their morphers had time to recharge, before the inevitable final confrontation.
Wes made his way to the couch and sat, slumped in exhaustion and dejection. Eric joined him, looking in just as bad shape. They were silent for a few minutes.
"We could use your friends about now," Eric said. "Can't believe they ran out on you."
"They didn't," Wes replied, too dispirited to be angry. "I tricked them into going. To save them."
"What? Wes, we need them. I don't know if we can do this on our own."
"I thought you never need anyone's help."
A smile appeared briefly on Eric's face. "Maybe you've convinced me I'm wrong."
"They had to go back. According to history..." He trailed off.
"What?"
"Alex told us we'd all die in this fight," he said softly. "I couldn't let it happen. Not to Jen... They don't even belong in this time. They shouldn't die here."
He saw Eric stare at him, a long look, tinged with shock and concern and perhaps something that seemed darker and deeper. "Alex said you were going to die?" he finally asked.
"Yes." He glanced up. "He didn't say anything about you. Maybe you'll be okay. I hope so."
"I'm not going to just stand back and let you die. So if you go, I'm probably going too."
Startled, Wes looked into Eric's face, seeing something there that froze whatever reply he had been about to make. An intensity, something burning behind those eyes...
"Wes..." He hesitated so long Wes thought he wasn't going to continue. "We may not survive this night. We may never see each other alive again. I need to tell you..."
Don't, don't say it... Wes knew he should do something, knew he should stop it. But what he said was only, "Go on."
Eric pulled his eyes away and stared down into his clenched hands. "You probably know already. Must have suspected it, ever since school."
"What?" Wes whispered, throat suddenly dry.
"That I'm gay." He glanced up for only a split-second, then down again.
"Eric, I -- it doesn't matter to me."
"It should. I had a crush on you back then. A big one. That time, in the study room, you probably wondered if I was going to try to kiss you. I was."
Wes stared down at his own hands, feeling his face start to flush. "I remember," he managed to say.
"After that, I was embarrassed to face you. Thought you probably hated me. So I got angry. Tried to hate you back."
"That's not why you left, is it?" Wes asked, alarmed.
"No. My scholarship was discontinued. No money, no choice. I dropped out, got a shitty job for a few months to earn enough to live on, got my GED and enlisted as soon as I turned eighteen."
"I'm sorry, Eric. I wish I could have helped."
Another quick glance, as if to acknowledge that statement. "Ten years in the service. When I got out, I took the job with the Silver Guardians. It was a great opportunity. I knew you'd probably be in town, I'd probably see you since I'd be working for your father. But I didn't figure we'd come into much contact. Never thought I'd still have feelings for you. But I was wrong. Ever since that first day I saw you, with your friends... Tried to hide it, cover it up, by being a total shithead. Swore you'd never know."
Eric was looking at him now, but Wes avoided his eyes. "Then you surprised me. You were nice, you tried to make friends again. And you were a great Ranger. A good fighter. Brave. Smart. Willing to risk your life to help other people. Even me. I started to respect you. And..."
Another long hesitation, as Eric seemed to struggle with himself. "It's stupid, I know. But I love you."
There was a pause as Wes tried in vain to decide how to respond, tried just to figure out how he felt about it. Tried to understand why some inner part of him seemed almost happy... when he should be shocked, even angry.
Eric's voice came again, very softly. "I guess there were times you suspected it. Sometimes I even thought... maybe you felt something too..."
Wes shook his head quickly. "No. I couldn't. I love Jen."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure." Eric was staring, but Wes stubbornly refused to look at him.
"All right. Fair enough."
"I'm sorry, Eric. I wish..." He looked up this time, meeting Eric's eyes and unable to look away, his words running out as the thought came, uninvited, of what it would feel like to touch him, to hold him, to take what he was so clearly offering. Just the fear and desperation of a man facing death, he told himself, just a need for contact and comfort. All perfectly understandable.
But Eric seemed to have seen it. He leaned closer. "Wes, this might be the last chance. Please..." He reached a hesitant hand to brush back Wes's hair as he flinched nervously, and whispered, "Just let me touch you... once..."
His hand moved to Wes's face, fingertips lightly stroking his cheek, then his palm making contact, caressing very gently, with no pressure, but somehow Wes was pulled forward, closer, unable to stop what he knew was about to happen. Slowly their faces came together, Wes closing his eyes as Eric's lips touched his, softly, delicately, breath warm on his face as he sighed. They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, as Wes found himself raising his arms, running his hands over Eric's upper arms and shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him back.
And then the gentleness was gone, the mouth on his opening, the tongue flicking out to lick between Wes's lips, then thrusting in. He felt a surge of heat and overwhelming desire, his body's reactions washing away any attempt to stop. He heard a soft groan as he pulled Eric's tongue in farther, as he tightened his arms, feeling the muscles of shoulders and back under his fingers, the sensation of strong arms around him, eager hands running over his body, under his shirt, over his chest.
Wes seemed to float in a mindless haze of fiery excitement as he explored Eric's body in return. He moaned as fingers moved lower to stroke him, closed his eyes as they undid his pants and reached inside, gasped at the sensations that followed. He sighed as Eric knelt on the floor between his knees, the intensity increasing as a mouth replaced the hands. It went on, building to the inevitable conclusion, until finally he shuddered and cried out as feelings sweeter and sharper than anything he'd experienced before flooded through him. And then, when Eric's face raised up to his, eyes glazed with passion, Wes kissed him, reached down between them, and gave back that pleasure with his own hands.
But afterwards, when reality returned, there had been only shame as he pushed Eric away and pulled his clothing back into place, trying not to see the bitter hurt and disappointment he glimpsed in the other man's face.
"It never happened," he had whispered, turning away, curling up on the couch. "It never happened."
"We made love, Wes. Face it. Deal with it."
"We... I don't know what that was. It wasn't love."
"Call it whatever you like. But it happened."
"We thought we were about to die. It was just -- sex. You wanted to, and I -- I let you..."
Eric snorted. "Not many straight guys would be that generous. I got the impression you liked it. And as I recall, you were an active participant."
"It didn't mean anything! I loved Jen. I still do."
"But you never had sex with her. And you did with me."
"I've slept with women, and I liked it!" Wes said resentfully. "One time doesn't make me gay!"
"No, it doesn't. But we weren't just kids experimenting. And it's more than just that night. It's Jen. And other things." As Wes looked away, unable to answer, Eric's voice softened. "What's important isn't so much who you've had sex with, it's who you thought about when you were doing it... Who you see in your dreams, who you fall in love with, who you want to be with every night." He paused. "Whose face do you see, Wes?"
Wes blinked and swallowed, the dark images from his dreams flickering through his mind. Images of black hair and Asian eyes... He shut it out and retorted, "Don't flatter yourself."
Eric's voice sparked with impatience. "I didn't mean me personally." He sighed, and went on more calmly. "Look, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just imagining things, maybe I want the whole world to be gay, just because I am. But -- think about it. Don't end up forty years old, hiding who you are, married to some poor woman you've been lying to for years."
"Damn it! Stop doing this, trying to turn me into the same thing you are..." Wes turned away, wrapping his arms around himself. "Just leave me alone," he muttered miserably.
"All right." There was a pause. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you or anything."
"Then just shut up. I don't need you to tell me who I am, or what I am. You promised, remember?"
There was a slight sigh. "Yeah. I promised."
"And now you said it anyway... Damn it, I trusted you..." Wes curled up, leaning his head against the wall. He tried to blank his mind, tried not to think of Eric sitting behind him, probably trying to see him in the dimness, the expression probably on his face. Tried not to think about what he had said. Most of all, he firmly shut out the memory of what they had done, that dark night in the clock tower. Tried not to remember what it had felt like, denied that he had ever wanted to feel that way again.
As he hunched over his knees a sudden stab of pain bit into him, so bad that he gasped and groaned aloud, clutching his ribs. A wave of dizziness and nausea broke over him.
"Wes, what's wrong?" The rough voice behind him held only concern now, as Wes felt hands grasp his shoulders. In another moment Eric was shining a flashlight beam in his face.
"Shit, you're hurt... Why didn't you say something?"
"Just stubborn, I guess..."
"Dammit, I shouldn't have gotten you upset... Wes..."
He gasped again and held back a cry as Eric gently helped him lie down, and leaned over him, face pinched with anxiety in the reflected light.
"Hang on," he said. "Steve and the guys'll be here soon. We'll get you to the hospital, you'll be fine."
"Sure, I'll be fine..." Wes responded, knowing it wasn't true, as another surge of dizziness and pain dimmed out even the light shining in his face, and the sound of Eric's voice calling his name.
TBC...