No Going Home Pt 9 (WorkCamp!Wes)
Apr. 11th, 2006 03:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleysgirlPrevious parts here.
Sometimes, Wesley couldn't sleep. At first it had seemed that he hadn't done anything but sleep, but now there were nights when he lay awake for hours, staring in the general direction of the ceiling. Gunn's breathing was reassuring, his warmth and closeness enough to keep the worst of the demons -- figurative in this case rather than literal -- at bay. Still, Wesley couldn't sleep; he shifted his position half a dozen times, thinking that if he could just find the right one, he'd be able to drop off.
Finally he gave up and slipped from the room, careful not to wake Gunn. He went downstairs quietly, grateful for the silence in the hotel. In some ways, being alone like this was comforting. It was nice not to have to worry about anyone but himself, and he was starting to feel safe again, on the surface, at least. Deep down he wasn't certain he ever would.
He was educated -- he knew all the terminology. Post traumatic stress disorder. Adjustment Disorder. Panic attacks. Knowing the terminology, unfortunately, didn't allow one to get over past events quickly. He knew that seeing a professional would have helped, but explaining what he'd been through would have been impossible, let alone where he'd been and why. He did wonder if Lorne might have helped, but the demon had left L.A. shortly after Wesley's disappearance and no one knew where he was now. Angel had offered, haltingly, to try to find him, but Wesley had felt that it was best to leave things as they were.
The hotel was quiet; Cordelia home with Phantom Dennis for the night, Fred no doubt asleep in whichever room upstairs she'd claimed as her own -- Wesley didn't need to know, nor did he particularly care. He wasn't hungry, but he went to the refrigerator anyway and opened the door, looking inside. There were leftover cartons of Chinese food as well as some other cartons that held blood from the butcher's shop. Sighing, Wesley swung the door gently closed at the same time there was a sound from a darkened corner of the room.
Heart pounding, Wesley jumped backward, nearly tripping over his own feet as Angel formed out of the shadows. "Easy," Angel said. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
If Wesley had had more strength, he likely would have fled. As it was, he groped blindly for the wall and leaned against it, waiting for his breathing and heart rate to calm.
Angel remained where he was, waiting. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "It's just me."
"I didn't... know you were up," Wesley managed.
"I'm usually up," Angel said. "But yeah, I guess you wouldn't know. Things have been... different. Since..."
Since Wesley had been gone. "I know," Wesley said. It couldn't be good for his heart to be pounding in his ears the way it was. "Are... are you all right?" It was an absurd thing to ask.
"Yeah. I'm fine." It was dismissive, but the way that Angel was looking at him was anything but. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Wesley said.
"No, not about this." Angel waved his hand. "Well, yeah, about this, too, but... I meant about before. When I -- I should have thought. It was stupid of me not to realize. To... to startle you like that."
Now Wesley knew what he was talking about. It was conversation he'd been dreading having. "That wasn't your fault. It wasn't -- " Angel had crept toward him, just a tiny bit. "You couldn't have known. I didn't know."
"I should have." Angel came closer still, watching him. "I just... I wanted to see you. I needed to. To know that you were okay."
"I am," Wesley said, staring at Angel, unsure whether he wanted him closer or not. "I know."
"I know you went through a lot, where you were." Angel's eyes were dark, soft, sensitive, the way Wesley remembered them. His face was the face of someone who would walk through fire for a friend; that was what had always drawn Wesley to him.
Wesley wavered on his feet -- the adrenaline of the moment was passing, leaving him weak and shaken.
"Hey, sit down," Angel said, starting toward him, then immediately backing away again as Wesley recoiled. "Okay, easy. Easy. Here. Sit here."
There was a chair, and Wesley was sitting in it with Angel hunkered down beside him, not blocking his escape route should he need it.
"You want me to get Gunn?" Angel asked.
Wesley shook his head. "No. Let him sleep. We're all right."
"Are we?" Angel was watching him closely. "Are we all right?"
It was obvious what he was asking, and that was the question that Wesley answered. "I think so. I think -- we will be. None of this -- none of it -- is your fault. You know that?"
"We should have found you sooner," Angel said. "We never should have lost you in the first place." He was -- yes, he was trembling, and somehow that made Wesley feel stronger, capable of providing comfort instead of just taking it.
Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and touched Angel's shoulder. "You did everything you could."
Angel's mouth pulled into a grimace. "We should have done more. It wasn't enough." There were tears in his eyes, and his voice was shaky. "I'm so sorry, Wes." His head leant forward until it was bowed, touching Wesley's knee, and Wesley stroked Angel's hair without thinking about it.
"It's all right," he said softly, repeating it, wanting Angel to believe that it was true. "It's all right."
TBC
Sometimes, Wesley couldn't sleep. At first it had seemed that he hadn't done anything but sleep, but now there were nights when he lay awake for hours, staring in the general direction of the ceiling. Gunn's breathing was reassuring, his warmth and closeness enough to keep the worst of the demons -- figurative in this case rather than literal -- at bay. Still, Wesley couldn't sleep; he shifted his position half a dozen times, thinking that if he could just find the right one, he'd be able to drop off.
Finally he gave up and slipped from the room, careful not to wake Gunn. He went downstairs quietly, grateful for the silence in the hotel. In some ways, being alone like this was comforting. It was nice not to have to worry about anyone but himself, and he was starting to feel safe again, on the surface, at least. Deep down he wasn't certain he ever would.
He was educated -- he knew all the terminology. Post traumatic stress disorder. Adjustment Disorder. Panic attacks. Knowing the terminology, unfortunately, didn't allow one to get over past events quickly. He knew that seeing a professional would have helped, but explaining what he'd been through would have been impossible, let alone where he'd been and why. He did wonder if Lorne might have helped, but the demon had left L.A. shortly after Wesley's disappearance and no one knew where he was now. Angel had offered, haltingly, to try to find him, but Wesley had felt that it was best to leave things as they were.
The hotel was quiet; Cordelia home with Phantom Dennis for the night, Fred no doubt asleep in whichever room upstairs she'd claimed as her own -- Wesley didn't need to know, nor did he particularly care. He wasn't hungry, but he went to the refrigerator anyway and opened the door, looking inside. There were leftover cartons of Chinese food as well as some other cartons that held blood from the butcher's shop. Sighing, Wesley swung the door gently closed at the same time there was a sound from a darkened corner of the room.
Heart pounding, Wesley jumped backward, nearly tripping over his own feet as Angel formed out of the shadows. "Easy," Angel said. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
If Wesley had had more strength, he likely would have fled. As it was, he groped blindly for the wall and leaned against it, waiting for his breathing and heart rate to calm.
Angel remained where he was, waiting. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "It's just me."
"I didn't... know you were up," Wesley managed.
"I'm usually up," Angel said. "But yeah, I guess you wouldn't know. Things have been... different. Since..."
Since Wesley had been gone. "I know," Wesley said. It couldn't be good for his heart to be pounding in his ears the way it was. "Are... are you all right?" It was an absurd thing to ask.
"Yeah. I'm fine." It was dismissive, but the way that Angel was looking at him was anything but. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Wesley said.
"No, not about this." Angel waved his hand. "Well, yeah, about this, too, but... I meant about before. When I -- I should have thought. It was stupid of me not to realize. To... to startle you like that."
Now Wesley knew what he was talking about. It was conversation he'd been dreading having. "That wasn't your fault. It wasn't -- " Angel had crept toward him, just a tiny bit. "You couldn't have known. I didn't know."
"I should have." Angel came closer still, watching him. "I just... I wanted to see you. I needed to. To know that you were okay."
"I am," Wesley said, staring at Angel, unsure whether he wanted him closer or not. "I know."
"I know you went through a lot, where you were." Angel's eyes were dark, soft, sensitive, the way Wesley remembered them. His face was the face of someone who would walk through fire for a friend; that was what had always drawn Wesley to him.
Wesley wavered on his feet -- the adrenaline of the moment was passing, leaving him weak and shaken.
"Hey, sit down," Angel said, starting toward him, then immediately backing away again as Wesley recoiled. "Okay, easy. Easy. Here. Sit here."
There was a chair, and Wesley was sitting in it with Angel hunkered down beside him, not blocking his escape route should he need it.
"You want me to get Gunn?" Angel asked.
Wesley shook his head. "No. Let him sleep. We're all right."
"Are we?" Angel was watching him closely. "Are we all right?"
It was obvious what he was asking, and that was the question that Wesley answered. "I think so. I think -- we will be. None of this -- none of it -- is your fault. You know that?"
"We should have found you sooner," Angel said. "We never should have lost you in the first place." He was -- yes, he was trembling, and somehow that made Wesley feel stronger, capable of providing comfort instead of just taking it.
Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and touched Angel's shoulder. "You did everything you could."
Angel's mouth pulled into a grimace. "We should have done more. It wasn't enough." There were tears in his eyes, and his voice was shaky. "I'm so sorry, Wes." His head leant forward until it was bowed, touching Wesley's knee, and Wesley stroked Angel's hair without thinking about it.
"It's all right," he said softly, repeating it, wanting Angel to believe that it was true. "It's all right."
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 08:08 pm (UTC)*pets them*
Yay for more WorkCamp!Wes!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 11:51 pm (UTC)Thank you! This is the ultimate self-indulgence woobie fic, LOL!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 10:30 pm (UTC)Very sweet, and very well done. I love your Wesley.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 02:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 03:20 am (UTC)Liked that bit. Wesley the broken supplying comfort to Angel the more broken even though he shouldn't be.
Lovely. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 01:16 pm (UTC)And hey, question - I've recced your Angel/Buffy/Wes story, which is wonderful, but I couldn't find a title for it. If it has one, let me know? Thanks. :-)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 04:27 pm (UTC)Thanks for the rec!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-12 06:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-13 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-13 12:57 pm (UTC)Thank you.