Chapter Text
Title: Lies and Half-Truths
Fandom: Wanted
Pairing: Welsey/ Cross (Not Relatives)
Author: Slayerknight2@aol.com
Rating: NC-17, eventually.
Spoilers: For the movie
Warnings: AU, violence, language, h/c, m/m
Summary: For his entire life, Welsey has lived in a world of lies and half-truths. Now he must face the truth of it all.
Notes: I didn't really buy the whole 'Cross being Wesley's father' thing. They look nothing a like and it just seemed odd. Nice twist in the movie but I thought he wouldn't kill Welsey for different reasons, like he was a friend of Welsey's dad or something. So, that's what this fic is. Cross is not Welsey's dad, but a friend of his. Welsey's dad was killed by the Fraternity because he founded the other group that opposed them, including recruiting Cross. So, they framed Cross for the murder.
Extra Notes: Takes place right at the end of the train scene. Changing POVs.
Disclaimers: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners of the studios and producers. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Cross
The train was tipping, balancing precariously on the edge of a cliff. The machine=2 0was struggling against gravity to remain in existence. As I felt the train tip, I knew it was a losing battle. All around me people were screaming in terror and clinging to their seats as though the simple furniture would save them from what they knew was inevitable. A few of them were trying in vain to get higher up, but most of them simply fell down the narrowing tunnel.
I had to get to him.
Ironically, that one thought had been plaguing my waking thoughts for the past six weeks. Now, the urgency was more intense than ever before. Allan Gibson had entrusted me with his most valuable possession three years ago and the one time that I must keep him safe, I was failing. I barely felt the ache in my shoulder from the bullet wound as I jumped from the seats, making my way down towards my target. It was almost poetic that the very skills that the Fraternity beat into us would help to destroy them.
I caught sight of him, struggling to hold onto the edge of on e of the cars. His hand was slipping, as was his hold on survival. I landed next to him and grabbed hold of his hand just in time. He looked up at me in shock, unable to believe that the person who was suppose to want him dead was saving him. Under any other circumstances, it would have been amusing. I did feel the pain in my shoulder now as supporting Welsey's weight was tearing at the damaged muscles. Even though he weighed even less than he looked, he was heavy enough to send sharp pains up my other arm.
But it didn't matter. Now that I had him, I wasn't going to let him go.
I saw something change in his eyes, a hard look that seemed out of place on him. The second he twisted his hand to grab hold of my arm, I knew what he was going to do. As he brought the gun up, I shifted to the side at the last minute and the bullet hit the outer edge of my shoulder. It hurt, as did the last bullet in that shoulder, but I ignored it and used the element of surprise to haul him up into the car. He crashed into me, his body moving into mine. His gun had fallen to the side. I could hear him panting in my ear, his=2 0face almost smashed into my left shoulder.
The car tilted downwards again, the creaking shriek of a dying animal. Out of instinct his hands grabbed on to my shoulders, in an effort to stay up here and out of the gaping hole that threatened to pull him down into the weightless fate. My left arm tightened around him. I wouldn't let him fall. Acting quickly, I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small syringe from my pocket and cracking the tip. I had just enough time of his distraction that he didn't see my movement until I had jabbed the compacted needle into his arm.
He yelped, more in surprise than pain. They had trained him not to feel it, to block out that part of his humanity. He struggled for a few seconds, attempting to get away. But the drug was fast and he slumped against me, unconscious. I was momentarily relieved that I now had only one goal; to get us out of here alive. Normally, I was adept at thinking one move ahead. But I'd never been in this situation before.
I heard a small noise to my left. I tightened my hold on Welsey, knowing exactly who it was. And I knew her mission, her new target. It was something Sloan would have done. Leaving no loose ends, no more threats. Wesley's gun was by my hand and I resisted the urge to grab it. Not yet. I sighed and looked over at her.
"I should have known that you would have survived."
She gave me a smile, her face beautiful even covered in blood and hidden pain. "Same here."
I saw her gun glint in her hand and she looked down at Wesley. "Are you here to kill me?"
She glanced up at me. "You know I'm not. Your death is his kill."
Its my turn to smile now, and it mirrors the coldness in her eyes. "But if you eliminate him now, he won't have fulfilled his mission."
It was a thin thread of logic and we both knew it. "That's not my problem. I'll fulfill mine."
"You really want to kill him?" I was taking a gamble, but I knew her as well as anyone else ever has.
Her face softened for the briefest of moments. "Its not my place to decide who lives and who dies."
"No. Its Sloan's."
Her eyes became blue steel at my words as she swung the gun up. "Blame who you wish."
But I had anticipated her reaction. I knew her; the strength of her reflexes, the curve of her hand. I shot the glass out from under us just a fraction of time before her bullet reached him. In our lives, a fraction is all you need. Even though I had braced myself for the impact of the water, it still shocked me. Hitting the water was like hitting concrete that gave a little. The slap of its surface stung my skin and jarred my shoulder. The icy temperature that surrounded me stole the breath from my lungs.
But I closed my eyes for just a second and focused. My training came back, the discipline. I blocked out the worst of it, forcing myself to function, to move and not feel. I looked around, still underwater, for him. I found him a few feet away and swam quickly to get grab him. There was a ledge on the other side of the cliff, out of range of Fox. She was good, but only one man could ever hit anyone from where we currently were. And he was long gone.
The the ledge was rock and sand, coarse and as unforgiving as the water had been. When we were both on the dry land, I checked to make sure he was still breathing. Once, I had assured myself that he was alive, I took off both of our coats. I paused when I held up the leather jacket that Wesley had been wearing. My shaking, numb hands traced the worn fabric, a thousand memories racing through my mind. Why had Sloan given this to him? What had he gained by this? Some sick, perverted laugh?
Only someone as cruel as Sloan would wave small mementos in front of an orphaned child, a result of the old man's own hand that made the boy one.
Before I could simmer in my rage, I heard the loud thrum of the helicopter. I glanced up to see Pekwarsky pilot the silver craft down towards us. The wind whipped viciously around me, the current slicing new waves of chills through me. Focus.
The angle was awkward, one only a Fraternity member could manage, but he managed to hold the helicopter just at the edge, a few inches into the water. I wasted no time carrying my charge inside. Slamming the door shut, I nodded at him to take off. Gravity shifted, lifting us up into the sky and away from this nightmare. I look out at the disaster that has claimed so many lives today. From here, I can see bodies floating downstream like a grisly school of fish. Over half of the train has tipped over the edge and it looked like the rest will follow soon enough. Long before help can arrive.
And yet, even she will not be able to see how pointless all of this is.
The vision of useless death faded as we moved away. The atmosphere inside the helicopter was surprisingly quiet. The constant thrum of the propellers was subdued, allowing other concerns to finally enter. I looked around and spotted a pile of clothing and blankets. Glancing up at the back of Pekwarsky's head, I grabbed the bundle and made my way towards Wesley. I reached out and gently touched his face. His skin was cold, his body shivering in the frigid air. As carefully as I could, I stripped him of the cold, wet clothes and replaced them with the black sweats that our pilot had brought. I struggled to remain clinical about the task. The fact that20Wesley's skin was a light blue helped to staunch any stray thoughts that have been wandering around since I grabbed onto him in the train.
"You're shot."
His uniquely-accented voice startled me out of my reverie. But I didn't turn to look at him, instead wrapping the thick blanket around Wesley's small form. I knew what the old man was implying.
"The freezing water helped."
"He shot you." There was definite sarcasm and some humor in his voice.
I sighed, moving to pull my own shirt over my head. "He's afraid."
"He shot you."
Tugging on the the dry material, I was amazed at the difference it made. "He doesn't know who he can trust."
There was a pause. "No, my friend. He did know. He just didn't know that he was wrong."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to focus. So much had happened in the past 30 minutes that it was hard to process all at once. I opened my eyes to look down at Welsey. He was instinctively curled up, his body craving warmth even in unconsciousness. Sitting down, I pulled him into my arms, careful of my left shoulder. He stirred at the movement, a painful moan coming from him.
"To your left."
Turning, I saw the black medical box next to me. I quickly withdrew another hypodermic needle and injected the sedative into his shoulder. He stilled and rested quietly against me. Its the only true peace he's had in a long time and I wish I could make it last longer.
"He is safe, now. You can rest."
I rested my cheek on top of his head, his damp hair smelling like the fresh water and crisp air that we'd been involuntarily immersed in. Its hard to believe. I have him now. Right now, in my arms. And he's safe.
"There is another dosage in located in the container. It has one quarter of the dose."
"I don't need it." In truth, my shoulder was beginning to ache fiercely. The adrenaline was wearing off and the tension that had been filling me for the past six weeks was slipping away like water through a sieve.
"I know. But it is four hours until we reach the Sanctuary and, therefore, longer before we can get you into one of the baths." A frustrated sigh from the old man made me smile. "Just take the damn needle."
Just this once, I'll obey him, just to keep him quiet. I don't feel the sting of the needle or the pressure from the extra fluid being forced under my skin. I can barely remember a time when I did. What did such a small pain feel like? But I did feel the calming and numbing effect of the drug. The ache in my shoulder eased and I felt drowsy.
I rested back against the bulkhead and hugged Wesley closer to me. He felt solid and strong, lean muscles forged in blood and violence. The warmth from him flowed into me, chasing away the chills and darkness. I wish it would be that easy to soothe him. I run my fingers through the slightly damp hair, my mind slowing drifting.
"In one way or another, he's been betrayed by people his whole life. He has no reason to trust us."
There's no answer from Pekwarsky. As wise a man as he is, with all his years of fighting and learning, he cannot voice a response to that. There isn't one. We all knew that once Fox and Sloan had sunk their teeth into him, that convincing Welsey to side with them was going to next to impossible. Sloan would tear the boy apart, ripping away everything that he was, only to replace it with values that were not his own. The brainwashing was a part of being in the Fraternity. It was just more intense for someone as far removed from this life as Wesley was.
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Wesley
Oh, god.
The only thing I could feel right now is the pain. Now, I've been beaten, bloodied, stabbed, sliced, and had bones broken. But nothing had ever felt like this. And almost nothing had ever felt this bad. There was so much all-encompassing pain that I had to concentrate on breathing. Even that burned like a son of a bitch. It felt like I'd pulled every muscle in my body, deep tears ripped across the tissues.
" . . . were right. The bastard did use it, of course."
I tried to concentrate on numbing the pain, blocking out the agony, but all that did was make the pounding in my head go from jack-hammer to sledgehammer. I moaned in pain and curled up on my side, trying to ease the torment. But the movement sent brand, shiny new waves of agony through me. God, what are they doing to me!
I heard the sounds of footsteps and felt the presence of two people in the room. I opened my eyes and really wasn't all that surprised. Cross and Pekwarsky. What the fuck? They wanted me dead, why were they torturing me. I took in the darkened room, similar to the old world look of Pekwarsky's old home. I was lying on the edge of a rather big bed from what I could see in the mirror across the room. And I felt too warm under the beige covers. The beside lamp was bright and glaring, causing my eyes to water. I couldn't bring myself to care about any of the other decor. It wasn't like I'll be making my big break any time s oon, I could barely breathe.
A slight creak brought my attention back to the immediate reality. I watched warily as Cross sat down in a chair next to the bed. He was uncomfortably close to me and I struggled to control my panic. I caught a glance at Pekwarsky, hesitant to ignore him. That was a mistake I'll only make once.
"What do you want from me?" Oh, fuck, it hurt to speak. I swallowed and had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out at the pain.
He frowned. "Nothing."
"Why-" I took in a sharp breath in an effort to keep going."Why are you doing this to me?"
Cross looked confused, the guy actually looked confused. What, torture's new to this guy?
"We didn't do this to you." His voice is low, soft, and I'm grateful for that, cause so far, 3 out of my 5 senses are careening in pain right now. God, it hurts.
"Please. . . please, stop." I haven't sounded that pathetic in weeks and I hated that I've been reduced to that weak, worthless man again.
He reached out to touch me and I shrank back instinctively, closing my eyes in an attempt to steel myself. Really? He has to hit me to make it worse. Then again, that would be something that the Repairman would do. Cross has been throwing the ways of the Fraternity back into their faces for a while now, why not this, too.
"Easy."
I jumped when he touched my head, but it really startled me when the touch was gentle. His fingers were moving lightly through my hair and its almost as if he's actually trying not to hurt me. The unexpected gesture was so out of place, I'm not sure what to do.
"Its alright, you're safe now."
What the hell? But what came out is a grunt.
His fingers were still moving through my hair and it started to feel good. Damnit, its the only thing that felt good right now. "You're safe here. The Fraternity doesn't know where we are."
Shit. They really aren't going to come and rescue me. The thought made me panic again and I started to get up. A really dumbass move, cause the streak of fire that shot up through me when I just shifted, was stifling. I cried out in pain, unable to=2 0stop it. This time both of Cross's hands were on me, but still, gentle. One hand was on my shoulder, holding me with an embarrassing lack of effort and the other was still on my head.
"No, no, no." His voice was still soft. "Shh. Just relax, Wesley."
"You need to keep him calm, Cross." That was Pekwarsky's voice. But it sounded different, more assertive. He wasn't the meek, mild man he'd pretended to be earlier.
I tried to twist away from Cross's hold, but the searing pain that accompanied the effort was almost debilitating. He held onto me tighter, but not enough to actually aggravate my muscles. I didn't understand what the fuck was going on. If they weren't hurting me - and that's a big 'if' - then what the hell is happening?
Almost as if he'd been reading my thoughts, Cross spoke, hi s accent added a strange lilt to the words. "Listen to me, Wesley. They gave you a toxin, a poison. They slipped in into your food the first day that you officially signed up to train to become a member of the Fraternity. Then, each day, they gave you a tonic, some sort of medication. It keeps the toxin at bay. But we don't know what the poison is and we don't have the cure."
I stared up at him, my eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light. Of all the things I thought woulda come outta this guy's mouth, this definitely ranks as one of the least likely.
He started to rub my shoulder, his hand moving in slow circles. "Your fast heart rate means that the toxin will get out of your muscles and into your bloodstream quicker, so you need to keep calm. It will takes some time for the poison to leave your body but the pain should fade in a few days."
A few days? He had to be kidding. If he was telling the truth, and honestly, I really couldn't care less about t hat right about now. "Hospital?"
Cross looked away from me for a moment before turning his gaze back to me, his gaze somber. "I'm sorry."
"We can't take you to a hospital, Wesley. They'll be looking for you, scanning for reports of someone with your description and symptoms. That's part of the reason they do it. Makes the rogue members more easily identifiable. " Pekwarsky's voice sounded odd, like he's distracted. I can hear him moving things around on some table across the room but I don't have the balls to try to make any big movements again. "And if they do not seek medical treatment, then they die. Quite an efficient preventative measure."
The words set off the panic again and I started panting as the pain increased, gritting my teeth against the torment. But cool fingers were moving over my face, tracing over my cheeks and forehead in foreign patterns. The cold felt almost as good as the touch did. And I hated myself for that. "Shh."
Pekwarsky was standing next to Cross, a syringe in his hand. "Fortunately, we've found a middle ground. This enzyme will help your body break apart the toxin and render it inert so that it will pass. This will ease the aches in your body and break the fever. And since we don't have all the amenities of an advanced medical hospital, it will take longer and be less pleasant. Fortunately, we have sedatives for that."
I feel like I fell through the rabbit hole. My body was screaming at me to let him inject the medication, but I had to know. Were they telling the truth? "Wh-Why?"
Pekwarsky paused. "Why did the Fraternity do this to you or why are we helping you?"
I closed my eyes in impotent aggravation. I could bend bullets, flip cars, defy fucking gravity. But I couldn't force an old man to quite dicking around with me. On a strange impulse, I opened my eyes to look at Cross. Somehow, I knew that he would tell me. HIs fingers were still caressing my face, the cool touch soothing. He was staring down at me but he was a million miles away.
He look startled when he realized that I was looking up at him. He swallowed and looked . . . sad. "Sloan did this to you, for the same reason he does it to every Fraternity member. Its insurance. 'There is no leaving the Fraternity.' No one knows about the toxin until they try to leave. Sloan started this after your father left."
I know I shouldn't have been surprised by that, but it still hurt to hear it. Just another notch on the chain of people who I can't trust. Seems to be as soon as I meet them, they get latched onto it. Not for the first time, I wondered if it was me. Whether there is just something fundamentally wrong with me.
Cross paused, hesitant to reveal whatever he was about to. "I knew your father. He was the man who recruited me into the Fratern ity, trained me. He was my mentor and friend. And Sloan murdered him three years ago. He framed me and the others so that you would kill me."
My eyes widened in shock. Was this just another lie? I can't seem to tell the difference anymore. But, no. The look in his eyes, he's telling me the truth. And its very painful for him. "Your father defected from the Fraternity eight years ago. He saw their corruption and started to recruit others to join him. I was one of them, as was Pekwarsky. Your father . . . he was always with you. He was in a house across the street from yours where you grew up. He had pictures of you, from school and soccer. He was always with you."
I could feel the tears start to fall from my eyes and I couldn't stop them. All this time.
"He didn't abandon you, Wesley. He left to protect you, to keep you away from our world. But Sloan was losing patience with him, closing in. Your father knew this and when he realized that he couldn't protect , he gave me that mission. He knew he would die and soon and he needed you to be safe. So, I moved into the apartment across from yours and watched over you. But I still had to finish what your father started."
Even Pekwarsky's voice was quiet. "Your father was the best assassin to ever live. Cross is the second, so he took over the leadership."
Cross looked upset, his voice catching. It was strange to see such a stoic killer look so . . human. "That's why Sloan recruited you to kill me. You are the one person I won't - I can't - kill."
Everything was a lie. Again. I had hated my father for so long, had thought that just hadn't wanted me. Then, I'd joined the Fraternity with the intention of avenging his death. But I'd always wondered why he abandoned me and never let me follow in his footsteps. I'd thought it was because he knew I wasn't good enough. But he did. My father loved me. And I'd almost destroyed everything he gave his life for.
I started to cry. I didn't even try to stop, a different kind of pain adding to the persistent agony. And for some reason, it hurt more. I tried to hide my face in my hand, a lifetime at the Fraternity making me my loathe the weakness. The Repairman would have just beaten me around until I snapped out of it. Maybe this is something he just couldn't fix. I barely felt the sting of the needle.
"Shh." I felt Cross move closer to me. His hand pushed mine away gently and he rested his head above mine on the pillow. I gingerly moved closer, hiding my face in the hollow of his shoulder. He smelled good, a clean soap and a subtle aftershave that didn't make you cough. I nestled closer, mindful of how much my body still hurt but the wonder drug was working, whatever the hell it was.
"You'll be alright, I promise. You're safe now." His voice sounds odd, choked.
I reached up and clumsily grabbed at his shirt, the soft, cotton material bunching in my hand. I wanted him to stay, but I couldn't say it. I felt all different kinds of weak and pathetic as it was. I wasn't going to beg again. But he gently touched my hand, untangling it to place in back on the bed. But he kept rubbing my shoulder and my back. Guess he got the pitiful SOS.
I felt him nuzzle my hair. "Shh. Rest now."
It was strange.The same man that I had been trying to kill just hours earlier was the one person that I wanted right now. Even after all this shit, I think he's the one person who I can trust.
TBC.......................