A/N Okay, I had almost a whole damn chapter ready, when my computer ate it. Normally, I'd just type it again, but the whole piece with episode dialogue I wrote on the spot, so I have to start over. Hope it comes out as well as the one the computer ate!! Grr. And with all the Wes/Faith inspiration lately, my muse seems to have come back with a force, so I hope to update more often.
Hiding in Plain Sight
****************
The young man who was once his friend, the man he had taken a bullet for, stood in Wesley's apartment and glared, demanding things that Wes would have given him freely, just days ago.And he would have done it with no expectations of anything in return. That's the way it had been with them. That was how friends worked. He would have forgiven them anything. At least he had thought so.
Anything but abandoning him without a second thought, taking the side of the man, no, vampire, that had tried to smother him.They had gone against him without even bothering to find out why he had done what he had done
And here Gunn stood, asking for his help. Demanding it.
"Look, I don't have time to get into it with you. I don't even want to be here.The hotel is infested with something. Some kind of slug, jellyfish type thing. We don't know what they are,"
Wes couldn't stand there and look at Gunn while he reinforced Wes's knowledge that a dire situation had forced him her. That nothing else could have. And, as he had done when he was having trouble facing Faith, Wesley tried to retreat to his books. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from listening to Gunn's words as the young man kept speaking
"or how to kill him."
But he could feign nonchalance, couldn't he?
His voice, though used earlier to speak with Faith, still rasped with his injury. "Well, now, that is a problem."
Gunn continued, "These things, there's hundreds of them.They get inside and suck up the moisture out of your whole body.They eat you alive."
Wesley fiddled with a book, trying to appear as if he didn't care, his mind already trying to solve the problem."Why come to me? I'm sure Angel will figure out a way to kill them eventually." And Wes was sure he would. The vampire was highly intelligent, if nothing else.
"That's not what I'm looking for," Gunn responded, his frustration and barely reigned in anger evident in his voice. "I need to know how to get these slugs out of someone who's infected, force it out somehow."
"Wish I could help." The solution to that was simple. Fred, with her physicist mind, should have it figured out by the time Gunn got back to the hotel. The answer was apparent to Wesley before Gunn had even finished his description of how these creatures killed.
"Wes . . ."
"Sorry you wasted your time."
At Gunn's next words, Wesley couldn't keep his back turned.
"It's Fred."
As Wesley turned to face the other man, his eyes caught sight of the thing that would give him the will to finish this conversation with Gunn.
His Slayer.
His.
He didn't have time to think about the pride, and the deliberate thump of his heart, that he felt at that word. His.
She was standing by the bathroom where he had put her when Gunn had pounded on the door. She was mostly hidden from view, but her eyes had searched for his, concern for what she was hearing evident in them. There was also a question in them, a question of whether or not she should come out and remove the person that was, at this moment, causing him distress.
He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.To see it, you would have had to have been looking, as she has been And the answer was in his eyes as well. He would handle it. But her being there was helping him, all the same. She had seen that in his eyes, too.
* * * * *
She had only been listening to Gunn with half an ear. more concerned with her watcher, who was looking distressed, than with events Angel was more than capable of handling. Wes had turned his back on the young warrior and retreated to his books, as the other man droned on about the problem back at the hotel.
And Wes seemed as disinterested as she was. Their problem, not ours, she thought. But the moments the words passed Gunn's lips, Wes couldn't fake his nonchalance any longer. And she knew it.
"It's Fred."
It was those words that prompted Wes to turn and face Gunn, but as he did, his eyes strayed to hers, and she willed him to read her thoughts in them. 'I'll back you up. Whatever you decide.'
* * * * *
She couldn't believe Gunn. Of all the things that she has seen, done, fought, been, the toughest thing that she had ever had to to do was stand there and listen to this man, knowing his words were cutting deeper than the wound on Wes's throat.
Did this man, a man who, from her less then deeply personal visits with Wes, she knew to have been Wes's closest friend, really not know the watcher who stood in front of him at all?
She peered into the room from her hiding spit, saw Wes walk over to the liquor cabinet, and knew immediately what he was doing.
"What, we're going to have a drink now?" Gunn sounded incredulous. "Did you hear what I said? She's dying!"
The words made her realize that the street kid could have never really known Wesley. How could he, and not know what was instantly obvious to Faith? That the bottle had to be the cure?
Her watcher's next words nailed Faith to the floor, when she would have charged into the other room to remove Gunn from the apartment. They stunned her into immobility, and even forced all thought from her mind.
"I was dying, throat cut, life pouring out of me. Know why I fought to live again?"
"Wes, I don't have time for . . . "
She couldn't believe Gunn had interrupted Wes when he was talking about this, of all things. 'Shut up', her mind screamed, trying to spur her body into action. But Wesley continued talking, the rasp of his voice holding her entranced once again.
"I wanted to live. To see my friends again. To explain to the people I loved and trusted, my side of what happened."
Gunn spoke again with certainty in his words. "We know what happened."
Faith knew less about the events than Gunn did, but the slayer just knew that she knew more about the truth behind them. Gunn sounded so bitter.
She wanted the black man gone, before she hurt him. And, as Wesley threw the bottle at him with his next words, it appeared the watcher was ready for him to leave as well.
"You don't know anything. I'll help because it's Fred."
That wasn't true. He'd help because of who he was. Because he was Wesley. He had helped her, she remembered, to escape the clutched of the council. And he had done it even after she had tortured him. He wasn't helping just because it was Fred who needed help, but because someone did. Period. If Gunn had been such a good friend to Wesley, how could he not know that? She had been his enemy, but she knew. SHe had used it against him with Cordelia.
"But don't come here again. Any of you."
Faith stood there while Gunn left and her watcher locked the door behind him. She stood, trying to hear over the blood rushing in her ears, pounding there with the adrenaline that made her heart beat.
She was still standing there when Wes appeared before her, a line of concern drawn between his brows.
"He's gone. You can come out now."
She mentally shook herself, trying to focus on the man before her, instead of the anger at the man that had just left.
"We still need to have that talk, Faith."
Hiding in Plain Sight
****************
The young man who was once his friend, the man he had taken a bullet for, stood in Wesley's apartment and glared, demanding things that Wes would have given him freely, just days ago.And he would have done it with no expectations of anything in return. That's the way it had been with them. That was how friends worked. He would have forgiven them anything. At least he had thought so.
Anything but abandoning him without a second thought, taking the side of the man, no, vampire, that had tried to smother him.They had gone against him without even bothering to find out why he had done what he had done
And here Gunn stood, asking for his help. Demanding it.
"Look, I don't have time to get into it with you. I don't even want to be here.The hotel is infested with something. Some kind of slug, jellyfish type thing. We don't know what they are,"
Wes couldn't stand there and look at Gunn while he reinforced Wes's knowledge that a dire situation had forced him her. That nothing else could have. And, as he had done when he was having trouble facing Faith, Wesley tried to retreat to his books. Try as he might, he could not stop himself from listening to Gunn's words as the young man kept speaking
"or how to kill him."
But he could feign nonchalance, couldn't he?
His voice, though used earlier to speak with Faith, still rasped with his injury. "Well, now, that is a problem."
Gunn continued, "These things, there's hundreds of them.They get inside and suck up the moisture out of your whole body.They eat you alive."
Wesley fiddled with a book, trying to appear as if he didn't care, his mind already trying to solve the problem."Why come to me? I'm sure Angel will figure out a way to kill them eventually." And Wes was sure he would. The vampire was highly intelligent, if nothing else.
"That's not what I'm looking for," Gunn responded, his frustration and barely reigned in anger evident in his voice. "I need to know how to get these slugs out of someone who's infected, force it out somehow."
"Wish I could help." The solution to that was simple. Fred, with her physicist mind, should have it figured out by the time Gunn got back to the hotel. The answer was apparent to Wesley before Gunn had even finished his description of how these creatures killed.
"Wes . . ."
"Sorry you wasted your time."
At Gunn's next words, Wesley couldn't keep his back turned.
"It's Fred."
As Wesley turned to face the other man, his eyes caught sight of the thing that would give him the will to finish this conversation with Gunn.
His Slayer.
His.
He didn't have time to think about the pride, and the deliberate thump of his heart, that he felt at that word. His.
She was standing by the bathroom where he had put her when Gunn had pounded on the door. She was mostly hidden from view, but her eyes had searched for his, concern for what she was hearing evident in them. There was also a question in them, a question of whether or not she should come out and remove the person that was, at this moment, causing him distress.
He shook his head, almost imperceptibly.To see it, you would have had to have been looking, as she has been And the answer was in his eyes as well. He would handle it. But her being there was helping him, all the same. She had seen that in his eyes, too.
* * * * *
She had only been listening to Gunn with half an ear. more concerned with her watcher, who was looking distressed, than with events Angel was more than capable of handling. Wes had turned his back on the young warrior and retreated to his books, as the other man droned on about the problem back at the hotel.
And Wes seemed as disinterested as she was. Their problem, not ours, she thought. But the moments the words passed Gunn's lips, Wes couldn't fake his nonchalance any longer. And she knew it.
"It's Fred."
It was those words that prompted Wes to turn and face Gunn, but as he did, his eyes strayed to hers, and she willed him to read her thoughts in them. 'I'll back you up. Whatever you decide.'
* * * * *
She couldn't believe Gunn. Of all the things that she has seen, done, fought, been, the toughest thing that she had ever had to to do was stand there and listen to this man, knowing his words were cutting deeper than the wound on Wes's throat.
Did this man, a man who, from her less then deeply personal visits with Wes, she knew to have been Wes's closest friend, really not know the watcher who stood in front of him at all?
She peered into the room from her hiding spit, saw Wes walk over to the liquor cabinet, and knew immediately what he was doing.
"What, we're going to have a drink now?" Gunn sounded incredulous. "Did you hear what I said? She's dying!"
The words made her realize that the street kid could have never really known Wesley. How could he, and not know what was instantly obvious to Faith? That the bottle had to be the cure?
Her watcher's next words nailed Faith to the floor, when she would have charged into the other room to remove Gunn from the apartment. They stunned her into immobility, and even forced all thought from her mind.
"I was dying, throat cut, life pouring out of me. Know why I fought to live again?"
"Wes, I don't have time for . . . "
She couldn't believe Gunn had interrupted Wes when he was talking about this, of all things. 'Shut up', her mind screamed, trying to spur her body into action. But Wesley continued talking, the rasp of his voice holding her entranced once again.
"I wanted to live. To see my friends again. To explain to the people I loved and trusted, my side of what happened."
Gunn spoke again with certainty in his words. "We know what happened."
Faith knew less about the events than Gunn did, but the slayer just knew that she knew more about the truth behind them. Gunn sounded so bitter.
She wanted the black man gone, before she hurt him. And, as Wesley threw the bottle at him with his next words, it appeared the watcher was ready for him to leave as well.
"You don't know anything. I'll help because it's Fred."
That wasn't true. He'd help because of who he was. Because he was Wesley. He had helped her, she remembered, to escape the clutched of the council. And he had done it even after she had tortured him. He wasn't helping just because it was Fred who needed help, but because someone did. Period. If Gunn had been such a good friend to Wesley, how could he not know that? She had been his enemy, but she knew. SHe had used it against him with Cordelia.
"But don't come here again. Any of you."
Faith stood there while Gunn left and her watcher locked the door behind him. She stood, trying to hear over the blood rushing in her ears, pounding there with the adrenaline that made her heart beat.
She was still standing there when Wes appeared before her, a line of concern drawn between his brows.
"He's gone. You can come out now."
She mentally shook herself, trying to focus on the man before her, instead of the anger at the man that had just left.
"We still need to have that talk, Faith."