[Gunnwesley] Fic: Kungai Part Five 15/20 (Wesley/Gunn, NC17)

[helenraven]

Title: Kungai Part Five 15/20

Author: Helen Raven

Email: helenraven at talk21.com

Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: The full history of the relationship between
Gunn and Wesley in the Birthdayverse. A novel in six
parts.

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, not even a blip
on the litigation radar.

The Story's Home Page: http://www.kelper.co.uk/kungai

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On Wednesday morning Wesley got up and left the
apartment while Gunn was still asleep. Gunn's first
thought was that Wesley must be doing laundry,
probably got it into his head that the other
translator had, like, blindingly-clean chinos, and
pressed so fresh you could cut yourself on them. But
the laundry-room was empty, and the car was gone, and
so were the stacks of papers on Wesley's desk. Lilah
must have asked for a breakfast meeting, then. Gunn
was curious about where they'd go, when the library
didn't open until ten; and he'd have to stay curious,
because Wesley wasn't going to answer that question
any more than the others.

An emergency meeting. Was that a good sign for Wesley,
against the other translator? That his work was so
important it just couldn't wait? Or was it a bad sign,
that they thought he would (and should) put up with
anything? Or was it nothing? Just fallout from Lilah
having a crappy week? A crappy couple of weeks, if
she'd been working past nine the other week with the
other translator.

Just past ten thirty the phone on Wesley's desk rang.
It was Lilah Morgan and she was calling for Gunn.
"You're at home. Good. I'm driving Wesley over. Expect
me in twenty minutes. I'll call for you to come down."

"Hey, what's goin' on? What's - What's he done"

"He, uh - He was taken ill at our meeting. He's in no
state to drive." She wouldn't tell him anything more
over the phone.

Gunn went straight down and waited out the twenty
minutes on the kerb outside the building. Wesley was
in the passenger seat, with his head turned towards
the window and his eyes closed, and the words that
came to Gunn's mind were "propped up" (not "sitting"),
and "unconscious" (not "asleep"). He hadn't shaved for
the meeting, maybe hadn't even brushed his hair. His
lips usually looked so red to Gunn against the stubble
but today they looked grey, and he suddenly looked so
thin.

Turned out Wesley was semi-conscious. Gunn had been
ready to carry him but when he slid his arm around
Wesley's back, Wesley turned to him and held onto him
- eyes still closed, sluggish, and muttering like he
was dreaming - and Gunn managed to get him to his
feet, guide him into the building, and haul him up the
stairs. Lilah took Wesley's satchel and went on ahead
and waited in the apartment, and Gunn could hear her
making calls and rearranging meetings for most of the
time he was on the stairs.

He lowered Wesley to the bed, on his own side, nearest
to the door, took off Wesley's shoes, laid his hand
briefly on Wesley's head, and then went back out to
talk to Lilah.

"What happened?"

A sigh. "The short answer: he collapsed in the
stairwell a few minutes after he left our meeting. For
the longer version..." She lowered her voice slightly.
"I've been concerned about him since our meeting last
week, and he was much worse today."

"Worse how?"

"The way he spoke. That was immediately obvious. And
then I saw what he'd done with the translation."

Jeez, she'd fired him, hadn't she? Get him up before
dawn, pick his work apart for two, three hours
straight, fire him - and then act like she's Florence
fucking Nightingale! "I saw him work on that
translation. He was - There's no one could have worked
harder."

"You saw him work on it, but I didn't think you ever
tried to read his work. I'm sure he was working hard,
he gave me at least fifty pages, but none of it's in
English. It could take me the rest of the day to find
out what language he was using, though I doubt that
what he wrote was related in any way to the manuscript
I gave him. Has there been any language that he's
mentioned recently? More than others?"

Gunn shook his head, and started to be frightened for
Wesley. It was like the thrift-shop clothes or
something: he'd sabotaged himself. If he didn't have
Angel to hurt him, then he'd do it to himself.

He glanced towards the bedroom, and when he looked
back at Lilah he found that she had followed his gaze,
though the half-open door showed nothing more than
carpet. "What did he say about it? He wouldn't tell
you himself?"

"That was even more disturbing. He acted as if he
didn't know what he'd done. He showed me the papers as
if I should be able to read them, and he talked me
through them as he usually does, except that he wasn't
speaking English, and I could tell that he didn't know
that I couldn't understand him."

"What did you do?"

Lilah shrugged and shook her head. "I let him talk. He
obviously wanted to. And he'd been so withdrawn at the
beginning of the meeting, even worse than the last
time..." A sigh and another shrug. "He came alive when
he was speaking this other language. He stopped
whispering, he looked me in the eye. Whatever he was
talking about, he was interested in it. I didn't want
to find out what would happen if I tried to interrupt.
So I nodded whenever I was supposed to, and I let him
get through to the end. When he'd finished he
straightened the paper and put them back in the folder
for me, and I thanked him and put the folder in my
briefcase with the manuscript, and by the time I
looked up he'd withdrawn again.

"I couldn't make him speak at all. He wouldn't look at
me. I'd known since the first few minutes that I
couldn't let him drive home, and I should just have
taken him down to my car right then. But I'm
afraid..." Another glance towards the bedroom door and
she swallowed. "He kept looking at my briefcase. And I
knew he must be waiting for me to bring out the next
manuscript, so I told him that I didn't have anything
for him. I was going on to try to soften that when he
just stood up and walked out. He didn't even take his
bag. The people in the stairwell said he staggered
through the doorway as if he'd had his whole weight
against the door. And then he was heading for the
support of the wall, but he didn't manage more than
two steps. Half of them thought he was a drunk. They
were about to call security."

Gunn closed his eyes, seeing Wesley falling, and then
lying there with the people arguing over him.

"Where did it happen?" His voice was shaking. And
she'd be thinking, "Yeah, that's a fag," but he still
couldn't keep himself steady.

"On the third floor." The library, She had to be
talking about the library. Just a normal meeting.
Starting at the normal time. "I did send someone for
security. To help carry him down to my car."

The fear. Like when he'd looked at the screen and seen
how Wesley lay in Angel's arms. But that had been a
single punch to his heart and then he'd known what to
do. This... All he was sure of now was that the next
blow would hit some way that he could never brace
himself.

"Thank you. I -" Make her go. Leave them alone. "I'm
sorry about the translation. Could you give it to
someone else? Is there enough time?" She wouldn't try
to sue them, would she? Even if her firm lost millions
over the prophecy... Well, she had to know that the
sum total of everything that Wesley owned didn't come
to a quarter of what she'd paid for her car.

"There should be plenty of time." She lifted her
briefcase onto Wesley's desk, took out the folder with
those strange pages, and gave it to Gunn. "I'm not
going to try to read this. I don't know if you should
show it to him, if there's any point."

Gunn shrugged. "Guess not. When he's the only one who
can read it."

She looked at her watch and made ready to leave, but
then at the door she paused, looked at him hard, and
said, "He must have been so different with you, if you
didn't realise that he was having a nervous breakdown.
If you thought he was just working too hard on the
translation. Do you think he knew what was happening
and tried to hide it from you? Though I don't see how
he could know, from the way he must have kept on
writing in that language."

Wesley trying to hide it from him. God, she had no
idea. The relief, for now, was stronger than the
guilt. Was she going to worry that she'd made it
worse, putting him under pressure with this other
translator, not checking up when she'd seen the signs
at the last meeting? When if she knew... She'd barely
register on the scale. He owed her. Of course he owed
her.

"The mistake he made. Over the Kekulei demons.
He's..." Gunn swallowed. "Never seen a person take
anything so hard. He has times when he just... When he
just..."

"He withdraws?"

"Yeah, like he needs to hide. I never found out
anything to do about that but just wait. Be ready when
he did come back. Knew it'd been a long wait this time
but I didn't realise it was different."

She nodded slowly, stared at the floor for a long
time, then turned her head to look towards Angel's
room. She had to notice that the screen wasn't plugged
in. Angel was protesting about something, testing the
limits of his chains but quiet enough that he was
probably dreaming.

"I would imagine you'll be dealing with the seer on
your own until Wesley gets better. Or maybe you have
been since he started to withdraw? That can't make
things any easier." She nodded towards the locked
door, and Gunn couldn't tell if "that" meant "coping
with Angel alone" or "having to listen to a vampire
being violently, unpredictably insane day after day."
Didn't matter.

"Yeah, they - Wesley can't go in there. Angel really
messes him up."

Very slowly, as if the idea was just forming: "Do you
think it would help to take him away for a while? Away
from that?" Another nod towards the door. "Frankly, I
think you're long overdue for respite care, even
without what happened today."

"You know any nursin' homes take in vamps? Got a squad
of demon-hunters on call? Sure it'd help, but it ain't
gonna happen."

"It could happen by the end of the week. I can get a
squad together. They could move in here, watch in
shifts. I know it will probably disturb the seer. But
if I were you I would take that risk."

Gunn's chest felt tight. Of all things, he got a sharp
ache in his jaw. Hope. Damn, but it hurt. "Y'know he
doesn't get half the visions he used to? Chances are
you won't see nothing."

She just ignored that. "How long do you think you
might want? A week? Two weeks?"

A week? He'd never been away from L.A. for a week.
Where the hell did people go? What did they do?
Somewhere on the coast. Hafta have the ocean for Wes.
Probably somewhere small and quiet. But then too small
and they'd notice Wes, that he wasn't right. And small
meant the middle of nowhere, meant less choice in
things to do - meant taking more of a gamble about
what Wes needed, what was best for him.

"A week. Yeah, a week'd be good. I'd hafta check your
squad out first. No offence, but - And they'd be goin'
in to feed him so there's stuff they gotta know. I'd
need a couple hours, explain the setup to the whole
crew."

Lilah said she'd call at nine, tell him what day he
could plan for leaving town; should be Friday,
certainly no later than Saturday morning.

She had the door open and she'd turned to back out
when she paused again. "Gunn, the security guards
assumed that he'd fainted from hunger. The woman said
that his bones were hurting her. Of course, I don't
know what she's used to, but... He certainly hadn't
been gaining weight in the last two months, has he?"

While Wesley had been sulking Gunn hadn't even been
wondering what Wesley had been eating, hadn't seen him
swallow anything except tea and come. Again, the
relief that Lilah could have no idea, but the guilt
now much closer behind. He was used to Wesley thin. He
loved Wesley thin. He'd stared at those bones so hard
that first evening, when he'd been thinking that this
was just a strange new friend. Was that an excuse? And
that month of not being allowed to see them, and
getting them back covered in Angel's marks. Was that
an excuse for thinking nothing beyond, "He's mine."?

"Yeah. That's gonna stop."

He could hear Lilah walking away down the corridor,
but he stayed by the door, not moving, feeling he was
scarcely breathing, until he heard her get into the
car and drive away.

Wesley's eyes were half-open, and he'd turned his head
towards the door. He tracked Gunn as Gunn went in and
knelt by the bed, but then closed his eyes when Gunn
took his hand. The hand was cold, the bones felt cold.
Gunn tightened his grip, felt the bones move - so
long, so fine - and then he suddenly pressed himself
hard against the bed, fastened his other hand around
Wesley's elbow, and clamped the length of Wesley's
forearm between both of his own. He was breathing
hard.

Two long breaths to steady himself, then he said, "Do
you know what happened?"

Wesley opened his eyes, frowned like he was thinking,
then shook his head with a slight tilt to the side.
More "not really" than "no idea".

"You went to the library for a meeting with Lilah
Morgan. You collapsed. She brought you home." A nod,
not surprised, and Wesley's eyes started drifting shut
again. "You scared her, you're scaring me. Wes, Wes,
will you talk to me?"

A long, serious silence, with Wesley wide-awake. Then
he looked from Gunn towards the living-room, suddenly
started writhing with tension, and abruptly shook his
head.

"OK. OK." Gunn had let go of Wesley's elbow and was
stroking slowly downwards from his chest to his
stomach, trying to calm him. "I get it. I get it." He
managed to smile. "Hell, I can't make you, can I?"

A pause, then Wesley gave a shuddering sigh and slowly
relaxed under Gunn's hand. He stared at Gunn, that
serious look again, then gave a very slight nod, and a
very slight smile. He eased his hand out of Gunn's
grip, but just to lay it on top of Gunn's other hand,
on his stomach, and then he sighed quietly and closed
his eyes.

Gunn thought that Wesley might fall asleep in a few
minutes, but he didn't, and that meant that Gunn had
to figure out what to do next when it looked like
almost everything he'd done up to now had been the
wrong thing.

"Wes? Can I lie next to you?" He'd meant: "along your
left side, the way you're lying now" and he would have
gone on to say that but Wesley was already moving over
to make room. Wesley lay against Gunn's left side, his
face pressed against Gunn's chest, and Gunn held him
tight.

Wesley still didn't sleep, though he lay like he was
completely drained: no energy, not even any thoughts.
Gunn had thousands of thoughts, seemed there were
never fewer than three at once, and there wasn't one
that managed to hold itself together for more than
five seconds. A thousand thoughts about Wesley going
crazy and about how it must have been obvious for at
least a week. Obvious to anyone who didn't just think
Wesley was still sulking. Would Angel have done
better? Would Angel have realised? Was there any
vacation in the world that would be enough to make him
better? Or... how much worse would he get if Lilah
couldn't do what she'd said?

The same fragmented thoughts, over and over.
Remembering the writhing and the tension - and how
could that man ever talk to him again? Wasn't that too
crazy, wasn't that man lost? But then Wesley's hand on
his hand, with Wesley made calm again.

Gunn started to get hungry. Must be around midday.
Angel had woken up in hell about twenty minutes ago.

"I dunno about you, Wes, but I hafta eat lunch. I'll
get a buncha salads, OK? Some good bread?" Gunn
started to pull away. Wesley did not look happy,
though he wasn't shaking his head. Gunn was going to
ignore any head-shaking anyway; speaking might be
optional here, but eating wasn't. "I'll go to the
butcher's too. To get some fresh blood." Now Wesley
looked confused and anxious. "To feed him, Wes. Soon
as I can today." And Wesley swallowed and nodded, and
rolled away onto his back.

Gunn's wallet and keys were in the bowl on top of the
refrigerator. While he was there, he took out the old
blood and threw it away to make space and avoid
confusion. Better go and say goodbye to Wesley. He
hadn't done that in weeks, just been saying nothing or
saying, "I'm going. I've had enough of you." Had to
show Wes he'd changed, that he'd be safe to talk to
now.

Gunn didn't get out even the first word, because one
look at Wesley showed that the tension was back, and
this time he was rigid with it. He'd turned onto his
left side with his arm up, covering his face, and he
was holding the pillow so tight his tendons had to be
aching. Gunn sat on the side of the bed and put his
hand on Wesley's back.

"Is this because you don't want to eat? You haven't
been eating, have you?"

Stupid to ask more than one question at a time, but he
was pretty sure that was a no to both. Something else
then. Maybe nothing to do with talking, or Gunn, or
Angel, or the blood. Where the hell did you start with
this? Could take hours and Gunn really was hungry, but
he couldn't just leave Wesley in that state.

He slid his hand up to Wesley's shoulder, waited for
two slow breaths, then slid it back down. Didn't feel
like Wesley was going to ease up this time. "Y'wanna
come with me? Y'not feelin' too shaky, still."

Disbelief, and at first Gunn thought that was "hell,
no!", but then Wesley was pushing himself up, and
Wesley was so pleased, and so surprised - like he'd
looked the very first time that Gunn had hugged him.
Gunn got him to go slow, and kept close to him all the
way down to the truck. "You feel shaky, you just grab
onto me." And Gunn could tell that he would. Must
remember enough about the library not to want that
again.

The grocery store was first, and once he'd got parked
Gunn said, "Wes? How d'you feel about waiting here?
Maybe save doing a big place with a crowd till
tomorrow or something? Be quicker. Y'trust me to pick
what you like?" All fine with Wesley.

Gunn got six different salads, and two breads, and
crackers and cheese and pasta and roast chicken and
chips and dips and yoghurt. He was getting in line for
a till when he saw a body-building magazine in the
racks, and that sent him off for the pharmacy section
to look for the tubs of weight-gain powders, and from
there back to Dairy to get more milk. He didn't know
what problem Wes had about eating this time - the same
one as before, about "pleasure"? - but he did know
that Wes would still drink. And "pleasure" wasn't
going to be an issue with this stuff.

Gunn was expecting Wesley to come with him into the
butchers, thought it didn't need saying since they
both knew the shop would be quiet. But Wesley stayed
put and shook his head when Gunn asked; and everything
was still fine.


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