__Six By Six__
By Katie
The knife fell from his grip with a clatter, but he didn't hear it.
The vision before him of his boss comforting the animal that had
taken obvious pleasure in causing him such pain was more than he
could handle right now. Being sure to keep a safe distance away from
the pair huddled on the sidewalk, he slowly shuffled out of the alley
and towards the street.
Walking itself was difficult for him. He could feel his cracked ribs
protesting with each gasping breath he took, and the cold night air
stung the small cuts that covered his chest. The additional pain he
was feeling was unpleasant and avoidable, but he couldn't bring
himself to stay in the dank, gloomy alley a moment longer.
As he emerged from the alley onto the street, he saw a car idling
about twenty metres from where he stood. The shape looked vaguely
familiar and he squinted to try and see it better, but without his
glasses, it could have been the pope mobile for all he knew.
He drew his long arms around his stomach in both an atttempt to warm
himself and to provide some support for his ribs, but the movement
provided little comfort as he stumbled his way down the street.
Before he got far, he heard a car door opening behind him and his
name being called. The voice sounded very familiar, but he didn't
stop staggering in the opposite direction. He couldn't help but think
that Faith would come after him again.
He could hear footsteps following after him and that same voice
calling his name, but instead of stopping, he increased his speed
further. He knew there was no way he would be able to outrun most
people in his current condition, but damned if he wasn't going to try.
Just as he started to break into a painful, loping run, he stumbled
and was surprised to feel a small, yet strong hand grab him by the
arm, preventing him from falling. He fought down an involuntary wave
of panic. This was it, Faith had somehow killed Angel and she had now
come to finish what she had started with him. As he struggled to free
his arm from the powerful grip, he heard something he had truly not
been expecting.
"Wesley! Stop it!" Cordelia's stern, but clearly concerned voice
broke through the haze of panic that had engulfed him. He took
several deep, shuddering breaths and winced as his ribs reminded him
of what Faith had done to him.
"Hey." Her voice was softer now, soothing him as he unconsciously
leaned towards her and the warmth and safety she offered. "Let's get
you back to the car, you're freezing."
He felt her arm wrap gently around his waist as she led him towards
where Angel's car was parked. He turned his head slightly to look at
her and heard her gasp as she saw the damage done to his face in the
dim light of the distant headlights. Placing her other hand softly on
his stomach for support, she took a deep breath and concentrated on
getting the ailing man to the car.
As she pulled the door open and helped him into the car, she finally
saw the full extent of his injuries as he sat heavily in the seat
under the illumination of the car's interior light. His face was
bruised and swollen with several large cuts still oozing. His left
eye was blackened, he had a long gash along his cheekbone and his
lower lip had a nasty split in it.
Noticing that it was still raining heavily, Cordelia quickly closed
the passenger door and climbed behind the wheel. She reached up to
turn the interior light back on so she could continue her appraisal
of his injuries.
His shirt was torn in several places, and much of the thin material
was heavily soaked in blood. She could only guess at the damage that
had been done there. When she was pretty much certain that he would
be okay without an ambulance, she started the car and pulled onto the
road.
As the car accelerated away from the curb, Wesley took one last look
down the alley. They were still down there, huddled together in the
rain, oblivious to everything around them. He felt an involuntary
shudder pass through him as he remembered to look of complete
insanity in Faith's eyes when they were in that apartment.
Cordelia noticed this and reached over to touch him reassuringly. She
could feel his body trembling and gently rubbed her hand over his
knee.
"It's okay Wes. We'll be at the hospital soon and we'll get you fixed
up. You'll be okay." She glanced over at him and saw he was staring
out of the window, not moving and barely blinking.
"No."
"What? Wes, you need to see a doctor. You're hurt and I don't know
how to fix it. You have to go to the hospital."
She took her eyes from the road again to look at the man beside her.
He seemed to have shrunk further into the seat and his eyes now
darted nervously around him, as if looking for a way to escape.
"No... No. I can't go... Not to a hospital." His voice had taken on a
panicked tone and he was becoming more and more agitated by the
second.
"Wesley. Calm down. Why can't you go to the hospital? You need to see
a doctor!" While she was concerned about the obvious distress he was
in, she was more worried about the injuries he'd sustained during his
few hours with Faith.
"No. Just... Just take me home, Cordelia, please." His voice broke
slightly on the last word and she found herself relenting. At the
next set of traffic lights, she turned to look at him. He was staring
fixedly out the window again, not focusing on anything in particular.
She cautiously reached out to pick up his hand from where it rested
on the seat beside him, drawing his attention inside the car and back
to her.
"Hey. We don't have to go to a hospital if you don't feel like it.
We'll go back to your apartment if you'd rather. It's closer than
mine, and less... crowded." He looked at her face with what seemed to
be gratitude in his eyes before returning his gaze to the window.
"There's one condition though." She squeezed his hand lightly to
regain his attention. "You have to let me take a look at you. You
can't just shrug something like this off. Okay?"
He nodded mutely before once again turning his head away from her.
She sighed softly before releasing his hand and driving on in the
direction of his apartment.
The rest of the short trip was passed in silence. Cordelia kept
sneaking worried glances at him as he replayed Faith's brutal torture
over and over again.
Inside his mind, he was reliving every blow, every cut and every
mocking jibe she had dealt him. As he felt the car slow to a halt, he
looked up at his building, already dreading the seemingly long walk
from the street to his apartment.
When he made no move to get out of the car, Cordelia opened his door
and helped him to a standing position. With her holding tightly onto
his arm, they slowly made their way to the front door of his
apartment.
Funbling her keys out of her purse, she found the one marked 'Wes'
and unlocked the door. Pushing the door closed with her foot, she
quickly moved her injured friend to the couch.
He sat slowly and gingerly, afraid of causing himself further pain by
moving too quickly. Since he got out of the car, Wes had had his arm
wrapped protectively around his middle. His ribs not only hurt when
he moved, but mere breathing caused sharp needles of pain to radiate
from his chest.
Once she had him settled on the couch, she disappeared into another
room to gather first aid supplies. Grabbing his large first-aid kid
and a washcloth from his bathroom, she headed to the kitchen to get a
bowl of warm water and some ice, which she wrapped in a cloth.
When she came back into the living room, she found Wes sitting on the
edge of the couch with his arms wrapped around himself, staring at a
spot on the carpet in front of him. Setting down her supplies, she
pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and sat on it, looking
carefully at Wesley's face.
When he finally raised his gaze to meet her eyes, he saw her smile
gently. "You gonna be okay?" As she asked this, she placed her hands
on his knees.
He dropped his eyes and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Yes.
Thankyou." came his quiet reply.
Giving his knees one final pat, Cordelia set about her task of
cleaning him up. Reaching first for the washcloth, she dipped it into
the warm water and started to gently clean the dried blood off of his
face. As she gently ran the soft cloth over his face, he couldn't
help but lean into her touch. He closed his eyes and for the first
time that night, he relaxed a little.
Once she had cleaned the blood from his face, she applied an
antibacterial cream to the long gash along his cheek, and handed him
the makeshift icepack to hold over his black eye.
As soon as she had handed him the ice, her hands moved to the buttons
of his ruined shirt. Under normal circumstances, he would have
protested, saying he was perfectly able to take care of those wounds
himself, but tonight he simply didn't have the energy. He merely
shrugged the shirt from his shoulders and allowed Cordelia to
continue her ministrations.
The cuts on his chest weren't too deep, and thankfully, none of them
would need stitches, but Cordelia had to wonder what kind of evil
would enable a person to do this to another human being. She cleaned
all the cuts thoroughly and placed gauze over the worst ones before
she stopped to assess how badly damaged his ribs were.
Pulling his arm from its protective position around his waist, she
gently placed her warm hands against his side. Running her fingers
over his side, she checked the extent of the damage caused by the
kick he had received. Satisfied that the breaks in the bone were
clean, she reached into her first aid kit for a wide elastic bandage.
After many chances to practice on Angel, Cordelia was now quite
proficient at strapping broken ribs. In no time, Wesley had a snug
ring of bandaging encircling his chest.
"Better?" She asked as she started to stand.
"Yes. Much actually." His voice was still slightly hoarse and he
sounded extremely tired, but at least he was talking. Now if she
could just get him to insult her, Cordelia would know he was fine.
Gathering her medical supplies from the table, she moved first into
the kitchen and then into his bedroom. When she emerged, she was
carrying something white.
As she approached the couch where Wesley was now half sitting and
half reclining against the soft cushions, she unfolded the material
in her hands and he saw it was one of his undershirts. Slowly
struggling to sit up without jarring his ribs too much, he managed to
slip the t-shirt on with little trouble.
"You should be a little more comfortable in that."
Before he could thank her, she was already heading for the kitchen
again. This time, when she returned, she was carrying a small bottle
of pills and a glass of water.
As she was setting both items down on the coffee table, the phone
rang. The sudden loud sound made Wesley jump slightly and Cordelia
gave him a concerned look before quickly going to answer the phone.
"Hello?... Yes, he's here... He'll be ok. He's a little beat up, but
he'll live... No, I really don't think you should be talking to him
about her right now."
Wes raised his head at this comment. He had already worked out who
was on the other end of the line, but why would he want to talk to
him about Faith?
Cordelia looked at him and covered the mouthpiece of the
telephone. "He says the cops wouldn't be able to hold her. Any
ideas?" He could tell she didn't want to be asking him this, but
Angel could be persistent when he wanted to be.
His mind immediately flashed back to the sheer strength she had
exhibited during her fight with Angel. Paling slightly, he told
Cordelia in an unsteady voice that it would probably be best to let
the council take care of her.
Quickly relaying this back to Angel, Cordelia ended the phone
conversation and walked back over to where Wesley was sprawled on
the
couch.
"Come on you. I'm not gonna carry you into bed." She stretched a hand
out to him to help him stand.
"Really Cordelia, I'll be fine here." When he made no move to stand,
she reached forward and grabbed his hand.
"Yeah, because I can see all seven feet of your lankiness fitting on
the couch. Quit complaining."
As she helped pull him to an upright stance, she snagged the pill
bottle off the table, put it in her pocket and picked up the glass of
water she had set there earlier.
He managed to walk unaided to his bedroom, although he was a little
wobbly on his feet. Sitting slowly on the edge of his bed, he watched
her set the water down on the table beside him as she shook two white
pills into the palm of her hand.
"Vicodin. They'll stop everything from hurting and help you to sleep.
They're leftovers from Sunnydale I found in your medicine cabinet."
He took the pills from her and swallowed them with a mouthful of
water before kicking off his shoes and slowly managing to lift his
legs up onto the bed.
His eyes were already beginning to droop closed as he felt her
adjusting the blanket around him. By the time she left the room with
a feather-light stroke of his hair, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming
or not.
He was certain he had begun to dream when the nightmares started. He
knew the terrifying memories that assaulted his mind were only that,
memories, but he could do nothing to ease their onslaught. He tried
to wake himself, but to no avail. Either the heavy concussion or the
strong painkillers he had taken were preventing him from breaking
free of the shroud of sleep.
As Faith advanced on him with the can of flaming cooking oil, he knew
in his mind that this wasn't happening. This didn't stop him from
feeling the heat radiating from the open flame mere inches away from
him.
Extinguising the burning oil before it came into contact with Wes'
partially exposed chest, Faith tossed the can aside and jumped
violently onto his lap.
"I dunno Wes, I've never been a huge fan of burnt skin smell.
Wouldn't wanna go stinkin' the place up too quick, now would we?"
"But ya know..."
He saw her lips pull back into a forced smile as she brought the
pilot light forwards and lit it.
"I am still a little cold."
Bringing the small flame closer to his body, Faith looked him in the
eye with a coldness he'd never seen before in another human being.
"Say when, okay baby?"
The flame licked closer and closer to his exposed flesh. Feeling the
heat radiating from the small orange flicker, he threw his weight
backwards and hoped for the best.
Struggling to sit up, he found himself trapped by the restraints
binding him to the chair and by the hand on his chest that was
holding him down.
As he fought blindly against the forces holding him down, reality
slowly started to filter through the haze of his nightmare.
As his struggling lessened, he felt the hand on his chest lift. As
soon as he was able, he sat bolt upright in... His bed.
Looking nervously around his darkened bedroom, he concentrated on
slowing his ragged, painful breathing. Once he felt a little more
under control, he brought a hand up and swiped it over his face.
Wiping the mixture of unnoticed tears and perspiration from his face,
he opened his eyes once more. Settling his gaze on the concerned dark
eyes before him, he felt the gentle stroking of a hand on his arm.
Closing his eyes again, he allowed himself to be pulled gently
forward until he was wrapped safely in Cordelia's warm embrace. As he
rested his head on her shoulder, he took a deep, shuddering breath
and was enveloped in the familiar scent of a friend. Snaking his arms
slowly around her narrow waist, he felt her fingers combing gently
though his short hair. Finally allowing himself to relax fully, he
drifted slowly into a dreamless sleep.
Sometime later, he felt himself being released and gently helped to
lie back on the bed. In the back of his mind, he heard soft footsteps
before feeling the mattress beside him sink slightly.
When he woke, he was alone. Cordelia had most likely gone home to
clean up a little before work.
Sitting up slowly in his bed, he closed his eyes briefly and prepared
to face the day.
* * *