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Who: Wesley and Dok
When: This evening, just around dusk
Where: Dok's house
What: Someone gets out of the hospital a little earlier than expected.
Status: Closed/Incomplete
( You are here, no escape from my visions of the world )
When: This evening, just around dusk
Where: Dok's house
What: Someone gets out of the hospital a little earlier than expected.
Status: Closed/Incomplete
( You are here, no escape from my visions of the world )
If only Wes could really believe that after his stupid slip at the hospital a few days ago. He knew Dok was livid, and to an extent he had every right to be, but what choice did he have? It was obvious Dok didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth, and if this was the only way to make sure he was at least safe in his house...he'd deal with as much of the man's indignant anger as he had to.
Just as Wes started to run the wire, the sound of a key turning in a lock grated from the other side of the foyer and a thrill of panic shot through the young man's blood. Forgetting the wire he stepped quickly down the ladder, trying to see if there was anywhere he could move it to make it look as though he were doing a little harmless home repair. There was nothing, and as it turned out, no time to pretend.
Dok was staring at him from the doorway seconds later, the only sound a shocked thump of his bag sliding off his shoulder.
Rage simmered in the older man's eyes.
"I can explain," Wes began quickly, hoping to talk reason into the silver-haired doctor. "Just don't be angry, please. I was worried..."
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At first, he opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail him as he heard Wesley try to explain. He seemed so frightened, and Dok's first reaction to that had always been 'drop everything and protect him'. Of course, in this case...
There was an internal struggle that rivaled the severity of that between light and darkness themselves. On one hand, even through his fury, Dok knew that Wesley was honestly doing this because he genuinely cared, and to be upset with him for that seemed wrong even now. On the other, though, he'd just walked in to see his friend setting up something in his house.
After a long moment of silence, he unceremoniously closed the door behind him and decided that his instinct to let things go is what had gotten them here to begin with.
"Explain?" he asked in a hushed kind of anger, "Yes, Wesley, please explain why I came home early, from my stay at the hospital, to find you -- who I haven't heard word one from in two of the most grueling days of my entire life -- on a ladder, setting up..." he started before moving a little closer to the scene, "Are those security cameras?!"
His outrage was more than apparent in his features, accented by a look of complete disappointment before melting once more into anger.
"And don't you dare talk to me about worried when you haven't even so much as picked up a phone to call me in days! I didn't spend countless hours regulating my heartbeat and sleeping in doses to not trip the god damned monitors so I could get back home quicker because I was just fine, you know."
Perhaps the worst part about this wasn't the volume or tone of his voice, or even the offhand accent with which he spoke, but the fact that each word was laced with hurt and actual, unbridled concern. Even livid, it was more than obvious that he cared about Wesley.
"What part of I really don't want you to end up in danger was that superbly unclear?! Do you have any idea what will happen if--" he cut himself off, too frustrated to even think straight.
"God, just-- how long have you been at this? How far have you taken it? Are there any other recording devices around here?"
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But that one split-second expression of disappointment stabbed deep and turned like a triple-bladed dagger, stirring his own frustrations, disappointment in himself, and the fear that had driven him to do it, killing any chance of being the reasoned one in the discussion.
"Like you couldn't have done the same if you were so worried, or, I don't know, asked someone to check on me? It's not like I'm on another planet! Although the way you've been acting I may as well be, apparently." Wes balled the wire left in his hand and threw it to the ground in a way that said he wished it weighed more. He needed something to throw.
It was difficult to mask a somewhat horrified wince at the knowledge that Dok had thrown his own tests just to get home early but at the last minute it morphed into a scowl of frustration. Even worse was that he could hear the real concern clearly, it rang out louder than Dok probably intended--or maybe it was just that Wes had felt the exact same way.
"I'll tell you what was unclear about it." He snapped, "Why. You never told me anything! What did you expect me to do when you're sitting there dropping hints left and right about Cochrine knows what? I took it as far as I thought I had to because you obviously had no interest in trusting me." He paused, swallowing hard, leveling a stony look with the older man.
"At least twenty-five cameras so far, inside and out. They're set up to feed into a monitoring station in my work room. Each one has infared capability and an insulated circuit feed in case somehing tries to take them out with an EM pulse." If nothing else, Wes was thorough when it came to his spying.
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"What the hell are you talking about, the way I've been acting?! You're the one that just decided to stop talking to me! I told you more than I'd tell anyone! Or have you just entirely forgotten how invested I actually am in my relationship with you?"
His bewilderment was more than apparent before it turned entirely into a deep, crushing offense. The person he trusted most in the world just accused him of negligence in that very area.
"No interest in--" he stopped, outrage and genuine hurt fighting for dominance of his expression. "How dare you," he spoke in a shocked hush before the bright blue of his eyes deepened, actually changing their hue so slightly that it would be easy to confuse it as a trick of the light.
"How dare you stand there and say that I don't trust you when you know how completely untrue that is! Did you ever stop to think that maybe -- just maybe -- I wasn't in a position to tell you then? Think about those 'hints' that I was dropping. What about anything I said to you would lead you to believe that it's something I should be talking about in any sort of public forum? More than that, what about the way that I've treated you so far gave you the impression that I would just flat-out not tell you when I got the chance? Jesus, Wesley, do you really think that little of me?"
The moment those words were uttered, he knew he had just made a huge mistake, but he couldn't deny that it was actually how he felt.
Hearing the sheer number of cameras, as well as the intricacy of the setup was absolutely flooring. No wonder he hadn't been in touch -- when would he have had time? Something about it was still so endearing; so flattering that he cared so much. But the domino effect that he could have unknowingly set off...
Completely overwhelmed, Dok moved away to take a seat a few steps away, ironically on the couch that Wesley had found him on in the first place. He was shaking as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands coming up to rest in his hair in frustration. Even though he wanted to be thankful and gracious to have a friend that had the capacity to worry about him of all people so much, the idea loomed over him that that very person could be in mortal danger.
"God, why couldn't you just trust me," he said, his voice now softer and more vulnerable as he became more terrified than he had been at the hospital to actually know -- to see with his own eyes -- how far it actually progressed.
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One hand actually smacked loudly into the side of the wall but Wes barely winced--he transformed the pain into greater voracity and indignation. 'What could possibly be so bad, so harmful that you couldn't even tell me in person when you had the chance?' He wondered, taking every verbal blow in stride until the older man got to: "...do you really think that little of me?" At which point a weight settled deep in the pit of his stomach that seemed to want to force all of the other organs out of it's way.
Slowly, Wes took a few steps towards the older man where he sat, one arm half raised and reaching.
"Of course I don't... But I just don't understand what could be so bad that you couldn't just tell me." The words were strained, thoughts coming to the surface that had been there for a long time, ever since Dairine and Ianto left...no were taken because that's exactly what Aternaville did. "I'm just sick of this place! I'm tired of meeting people and being scared to care about them because they could be gone the next day...I'm sick of never knowing if I'm going to ever see my mother again, and treating every day with someone like it's my last! These last two days...I wanted to see you if just make sure you were...were still even here. But I...I get it if you don't want me to know what happened. If you want to push me away."
Wes was standing by the couch and finally the extended arm dropped with a sort of defeated motion. He looked at the man on the couch with distant, pained eyes.
"I get it, okay? I'm sorry...I'll take them all down. It wasn't right of me." It wasn't, and he'd known that from the beginning. He'd just needed to convince himself he was doing something that would keep his friend in this world.
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While he knew what the words were supposed to mean, his consciousness -- worn to the nerve by sleeplessness and an already negative internal monologue -- had twisted them to mean something that he knew his friend would never intend to say.
That, of course, was almost wholly washed away when he heard Wesley admit, outright, to being just as invested in what they had. More than that, it was the very reason that he had done all this. While he'd always known that to be true, hearing it out loud was something else entirely.
There was no way that Dok could stay mad at that, even if the comment about going back to the hospital stung a little more than it was probably intended to.
He was lucky that he was sitting when Wes called into question what could have been so bad. The sincerity in his voice almost brought the older man to tears. His eyes still fixed on the floor, his brows furrowing in an internal struggle that clouded his thoughts for the duration of the silence that settled between them. He hadn't wanted to tell him like this, but what choice did he really have? The opportunity was right there...but his nerves were still shot. Could he even get into it like this? More than that, was he in any shape to handle the consequences? It was still entirely possible that the whole thing could make Wes see him as a monster and want no part of him after hearing what he'd done. Would he really be able to watch the person he'd come to care about more than anything walk out the door indefinitely in his condition?
Of course, the alternative of not telling him looked to be even worse. The worry that ran rampant in those dark eyes was almost too much to bear. There really wasn't any way that he could let that go on any longer.
He was about to open his mouth to respond when that frustration finally came out. His gaze turned, then, from the floor to Wesley's own as he heard his friend admit to being scared to care about people. That alone floored him with it's honesty, but his heart absolutely shattered to think of how he must feel about not being able to see his mother, and the apparently all-consuming fear that everyone he cared about could be gone so quickly.
Then, the weight dropped. He had wanted to see him.
The relief that he felt to hear those words, as well as the crushing empathy to actually be able to almost feel every word that poured from his friend was completely overwhelming.
Of course, nothing had prepared him for the way that Wes had apparently taken his inability to tell him everything.
His heart sank in the wake of those words.
Immediately, he stood, and without a second thought he pulled the boy into his arms.
"Shut up, Wesley," he murmured against his hair, his eyes closing in a last-minute effort to force back the tears that he knew were well on their way, "Just shut up."
Even though his words were harsh, his tone was the polar opposite. It was firm and definitive, but full of such warmth and love that it was surprising even for him.
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"You have no idea how much it killed me not to be able to tell you everything while I was in there. Knowing that you were worried and not being able to do anything about it because the forum was too public was torture. I never want to be the reason that you're so scared that you need to do any of this," he said with an almost palpable emphasis.
"I do want the cameras to come down, but I don't...think you have any idea how much it means to me that you wanted them up to begin with..." he admitted, as hard as it was to get those words out while that all-too-real worry that the wrong people had been tipped off still stood in the way. In no way did he want to marginalize the severity of the issue, but the fact of the matter was that he would never forgive himself if he didn't express exactly how grateful he was that the boy had put such an effort into him.
"I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you everything when I had the chance. I was just..." he trailed off, feeling childish to admit such a thing but knowing that there was no recourse, "I was really scared to lose what we have. I was being selfish and getting caught up in how...actually alive I feel around you. You're more important to me than anyone I've ever known, and I just couldn't handle the thought of that not being the case. Then, after all of this...I just didn't want you in danger because of me."
Reluctantly, he pulled away, moving to look at Wes with a bittersweet smile, "But, I'm done running, alright? I've got no excuse not to tell you everything. You're important to me, and I can't stand that I've been dishonest for this long; forcibly and otherwise. You deserve to know the truth."
It took him a moment before his eyes trailed to one of the cameras, "But is there anywhere we can talk that's a little more...private?" he asked with a half-hearted laugh. The last thing he needed was for Millennium to tap into the camera system. Lord knows they had experience in surveillance.
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"Dok..." Two somewhat skinny arms linked around the man's waist, as it was the most comfortable thing to reach and Wes merely listened, moved beyond words that whatever had happened to Dok the man believed so terrible that Wes would leave him if he knew.
"I would never judge someone based on their past, that's just terrible. And from the sound of it you weren't exactly happy with any of it either." He said eventually, letting Dok move away when he was ready; careful not to make a single move on his own. Moments like this were common with his mother for any number of reasons, and Wes had learned early never to make the first move in breaking contact. He was no Betazoid, but he knew how to comfort someone who had suffered an unspeakable tragedy.
Nevertheless, a guilty pang shot through him when Dok told him that he was finished running. Although he had said similar words to both Adam and Father Mulcahy, Wes didn't feel like he had made any progress at all in that. He still had the dreams. He had never told Dairine the truth like he planned, and as far as he was concerned, every day he spent here not looking for a way back meant he was still running.
"And believe it not, I've been in danger before, Dok. At least if I knew what kind I...we could prepare." Wes assured him, glancing around at the rest of the cameras which were so well placed only the direction in which he looked betrayed their location. "They're not on yet. But, there's aren't as many upstairs yet, if you want to go there." Wes suggested, understanding that privacy was key in the telling of his story, even if in the end it was only Wes listening.
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