Title: Q's

Author: Jeanny

Feedback: Please. jeannygrrl@hotmail.com

Distribution: I don't mind, just credit me and let me know where it's going.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Season 3 Through Sleep Tight

Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing, especially the characters in this story. I'm merely borrowing them for the pure pleasure of messing with their lives.

Summary: Standing vigil by Wesley's bedside, Gunn tries to get some answers.

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Gunn hated waiting more than almost anything. He was by nature a man accustomed to motion, aggression, action. Not really given to quiet reflection, to pondering his significance in the universe. Yet here he was, sitting in a hard plastic chair while he brooded over a universe that had seemingly overnight taken a troubling turn. Everywhere he looked was badness, and his mind idly kept trying to catalogue it all.

Which was worse, hospital coffee or Cordelia's coffee?

Which was worse, waiting here or back at the hotel with Angel?

Which was worse, the confusion and fear in Fred's eyes when they had found Wesley almost dead, or the hurt in them when he'd insisted she leave?

And what would happen when Wesley woke up? What would he say to his friend, Angel's friend, Fred's friend. Their friend, their betrayer. Or what if he never woke up?

Which was worse?

Gunn froze, the cup of coffee nearly to his lips when he heard the moan from the bed. He leaned over his friend intently.

"Wesley? Wes, you hear me?"

"Gunn? Where am I?" Wesley rasped painfully, his eyes still shut. His hands reflexively went for the bandages on his throat, but Gunn pushed them back down.

"Easy, man. You're in the hospital."

"I...was I shot again?"

Gunn opened his mouth and then closed it again. He had a ton of questions for Wesley, but he hadn't anticipated having to answer any. What if Wesley couldn't tell him what he needed to know?

Or what if he could?

"Not shot," he said finally. "We found you in the park near your apartment."

"We?" Wesley wheezed, breathing just a bit easier.

"Me and Fred...we were looking for you.

"In the park?"

"We found you in the park. We were looking for you because of the baby..."

"Baby...Connor," Wesley murmured. "Good baby."

Gunn backed away from the bed, swallowing hard. The wave of grief at hearing Connor's name had caught him off guard.

"Yeah. Yeah he was," he bit off.

"Was? Has something happened?" Wesley answered automatically, struggling to sit up and wincing at the sudden sharp pain. The pain released a floodgate of flashes of memory, and Wesley looked up at Gunn in horror. "Dear Lord, Justine...Justine took the baby..."

"I know. Angel found them together. Justine, Holtz and baby makes three..." he said rigidly.

"What happened? Is Connor all right?" Wesley asked earnestly. Gunn's sadness was pushed to the side, as anger rose to the fore.

"No offense, Wes, but you're not the one who gets to ask the questions anymore."

The words were quiet but powerful. Wesley opened his mouth to protest, but Gunn's accusing look made him slump down slightly.

"I see," he said with a touch of bitterness, looking away. Gunn turned away slightly, slamming his fist down on the bedside table hard enough to make the plastic cups and water jug jump a bit. Wesley blinked, startled, as Gunn ran his hands over his hairless head in exasperation.

"That's great. You see? Guess what? I don't. I don't know why you would be pretending to be our friend, Angel's friend-"

"I am-" Wesley tried to interrupt but Gunn was on a roll. In fact, he found it difficult not to reach out and shake the injured Englishman, so overcome was he in that moment by the rage he had been holding in since learning of this betrayal.

"-and then just go ahead and stab him in the back like that. You took his kid, man. The thing the brother cares about more than anything. That's so damn cold."

"I suppose that's how it seems," Wesley murmured.

"How it seems? Yeah, that's how it seems." Gunn responded incredulously. "Lorne told us all about the meetings you've been taking. You know, the ones with Holtz, the man who wants nothing more than to whack your 'friend'." Gunn said the last word with all the sarcasm he could muster. Wesley closed his eyes, his face showing pain; emotional or physical, Gunn didn't know. His own emotions were fluctuating wildly. He wanted to think of Wes as a monster, but he still looked like the man he had admired, had thought of as a brother. Was he a good man who did something evil, or simply an evil man?

Which was worse?

"Do you even want to know why I did...what I did?" the Englishman asked, so softly Gunn barely heard the question. He laughed harshly.

"No, man," Gunn snorted. "I just thought ICU would be cool to hang out in. Cause it's a damn sight happier than Angel's place right now." He took a deep breath, then finished in a calmer tone that had a note of despair in it. "Yeah, I want to know. I gotta know. That's why I'm here. I need to get this, Wes. And I don't get it at all."

"I can understand that," Wesley croaked. "I can explain...but could you maybe get me some water or ice? Either..."

"Sure," Gunn said automatically, picking up a cup of ice chips and a spoon. He gently placed a few small pieces of ice into Wesley's mouth like he was feeding a baby, almost smiling at the man's sigh of relief. Wesley then locked eyes with his friend, and Gunn found himself transfixed by his haunted expression.

"I was trying to save him," Wesley began simply.

"By giving him to Angel's mortal enemy? Wes, that's crazy."

"I didn't mean Connor. I meant Angel. I was trying to save Angel." Gunn remained silent as Wesley struggled to continue. "The prophecy about Connor. I was working on the translation."

"Night and day," Gunn murmured, remembering how strange and distant Wesley had been acting. He had dismissed it as a reaction to his blossoming relationship with Fred, but now he realized it had gone much deeper.

"It said that the Father would kill the Son. And there were signs...signs, which came to pass. And Angel was acting..."

"All wild and funky. Our friendly neighborhood legal demons spiked Angel's drink with baby blood. Made Connor start smelling real tasty."

Wesley blinked in shock, and Gunn's relief was palpable as he realized that this his friend had known nothing about.

"Wolfram and Hart? B-but how..."

"Inside job. They had someone at the hospital...you know, like you were shilling for Holtz."

It was a cheap shot. Gunn felt guilty seeing Wesley sit straight up, his indignant response to the barb sparking him into movement that was not exactly advisable.

"I was not...I never...I was trying to save Angel's son. I did NOT give him to Holtz. I knew Holtz was coming to Angel's to kill him-"

"One of those things you picked up in your little side meetings, right?" Gunn said softly, and Wesley slumped, suddenly deflated. To Gunn he looked impossibly frail.

"It wasn't like that," he protested dully.

"What was it like?" Gunn asked, and Wesley opened his mouth to respond, letting it hang open for a time. Then he closed his eyes, a single escaping tear the only testimony to his feelings.

"I don't know. I honestly don't know anymore." Wesley turned his head, eyes still shut, wincing in pain at the movement. "You said Angel found them. Did he get the baby back?" Gunn sighed heavily.

"Angel was going to let Holtz take Connor and go."

"What? Why?"

"Because he thought it was the only way to save Connor's life. Wolfram and Hart, that strange dude Sahjan, they all were after the kid. Holtz was willing to kill both himself and Connor rather than let Angel have him back."

"Dear Lord...you said was. Was going to..."

"Yeah. Sahjan opened a portal to some kind of hell dimension or something. Holtz ran through it with Connor. All Angel could do was watch."

"No..." Wesley moaned.

"Connor's gone, Wes."

"No!" Wesley screamed, and medical personnel came running. Hands grabbed Gunn and pulled him away from Wesley's bed.

"Mr. Wyndham-Price? What's happening?" a young, studious-looking resident asked as he began checking Wesley's vitals. Gunn tried to see what was happening, but the woman who currently had him by the arms was holding his attention.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the ICU nurse demanded. She was a full-figured kindly woman, with a calming demeanor that had instantly reminded Gunn of his mother. Now, looking into her furious blue eyes, he was reminded what it was like when his mama got mad.

"I...I..." Gunn stammered, then was relieved to hear Wesley's voice coming weakly from the bed.

"It's okay. I...I'm okay...Gunn just...just shared some bad news and it caught me...it was a bit of a shock..." The resident turned to the nurse and nodded.

"Vitals look good. You're a lucky man, Mr. Wyndham-Price. We'll be needing to keep you hear for a couple days, but looks like you'll be alright. You need to take it easy, though," the doctor said with a quick but meaningful look at Gunn as he left the room.

"I think your friend here should go. You're not really up to handling anymore bad news," the nurse said, her glare still fixed on Gunn. The young black man squirmed.

"I understand. I...I would like my friend to stay," Wesley said meekly.

"Got no more bad news to tell," Gunn promised. "I'm not gonna upset him anymore. Ma'am," he added politely. The nurse shook her head and released her grip. Gunn forced himself to be a man and not rub his arm.

"No more excitement in here," she acquiesced grudgingly, leaving reluctantly. Once she was gone, Wesley and Gunn were once again alone. Gunn shifted uncomfortably, no longer able to look at the man on the bed. He didn't know what he had hoped to accomplish here anymore. Listening to Wesley, realizing that he was still very much the man Gunn had trusted, made everything seem upside-down.

Knowing or not knowing. Which was worse?

Gunn realized he didn't know anymore either.

"Maybe I should go," he said.

"Please don't," Wesley said, and Gunn heard the tears in his voice. The Englishman was somehow managing to break down with dignity, and Gunn felt the sting of tears in his eyes as well.

"Hey. English," he said softly. Pushing his discomfort aside as much as he could, he patted the man's arm reassuringly.

"I couldn't save them," Wesley sobbed. "All I wanted to do was save them, both of them. But I mucked it up. Buggered it all and now...now..."

"We have to get him back," Gunn said. "You're the only one who can help us do that, Wes."

"Angel won't want me there, not that I blame him," Wesley said. Gunn made a decision in that moment. One of those ones that you instinctively know you're going to regret, no matter which way you go. One of the ones that haunt you forever, no matter what.

"I'll help you. I'll get you what you need. Gonna need to get you somewhere safe, to do the research," he said. "Once you're fit to travel, that is. In the meantime, I'll get some of the boys over here to guard you. You're our pale English brother, you know. And we'll get Fred and Cordy to-"

"I don't understand. What do you mean, somewhere safe?"

"Safe from Angel," Gunn sighed. "We're gonna have to hide you. Just until-"

"No, this is wrong. You can't do this-" Wesley started, but Gunn cut him off agitatedly, barely able to fight back the urge to shout him down.

"You're not getting me! If you face him right now, you're going to die, Wes. And if you die, so does Connor, so as far as I'm concerned, this is for the big guy's own good."

"That's what I thought, too," Wesley mused, and Gunn shook his head, denying what they both knew was true. "I was wrong, Charles. If I had shared what I knew with Angel, with all of you..."

"You should have," Gunn agreed grudgingly. "But I think I get it."

"No, no, you don't. It's much worse than you know," Wesley murmured, and the weary guilt in his eyes somehow finally silenced the young black man's own thoughts and feelings. For the first time since he'd decided to help Wesley, Gunn was really listening to the man. "It's not the first time I've done something like this...betrayed a friend. When I was Faith's Watcher, I thought I knew better, I went behind everyone's back and called the Council, and she...she nearly...it doesn't matter now. The point is, I was just so arrogant," the Englishman said bitterly. "And now, Connor..."

"You made some mistakes," Gunn conceded. Before he could say more, Wesley continued, meeting his eyes with a resolute gaze.

"And now I can stop you from making the same one. I can stop myself from making the same one again." Gunn was reminded of the steel that was hidden in the seemingly frail man. "I must apologize to Angel and offer my help."

"He'll kill you, man. And if he does, he's gonna go down. Things could get real ugly real fast."

"Perhaps," Wesley said, closing his eyes wearily. "But don't you see, Charles? You can't control everything. Sometimes you have to just have faith in people. I've finally learned that, you see. I must face the consequences of what I've done. And I have to believe that Angel will want my help getting his son back more than he'll want revenge against me."

"I don't know," Gunn wavered. Wesley smiled unexpectedly, a small and rather sad but genuine one.

"Neither do I, Charles. Neither do I. But that's what I want to do." The smile faded as he regarded his friend. "That is, if I get a choice. As you so eloquently reminded me earlier, I'm not in charge here." Gunn swept his hands over the top of his head as if brushing back his nonexistent hair, frowning.

"There aren't any good choices here."

"I suppose not. But you'll make the right one," Wesley said sleepily, fighting back a yawn. Gunn shook his head.

"Get some rest, English," Gunn said softly. Wesley opened his mouth to protest, but another yawn pretty much ended the argument. "We'll get it worked out in the morning."

Gunn waited until the former Watcher's still raspy breathing had slowed and deepened, indicating he was asleep. He moved to the bedside telephone and picked up the receiver, then froze. One hand was poised over the buttons as he rested the handset against his forehead, the coolness feeling good against his face. Another one of these choices he hated to make. Gunn took a deep breath and dialed. The phone rang only once before he heard the voice he needed.

"Gunn?" Fred asked. It was only one word, but he knew she'd been waiting for his call...and he felt better.

"It's me, baby. Did I wake you?" he asked, detecting that little bit of sleepiness in her voice even though she'd only said his name.

"No...well, yes...how's Wesley?"

Gunn took a deep breath. It was too late for complicated answers, so he decided to stick to simple truths.

"He's awake. Gonna make it."

He felt just a twinge of jealousy at her happy gasp, then pushed it aside. He knew she cared for Wesley, but she was his, surely and truly.

"Thank God...did you talk to him?" she inquired urgently. Gunn took another long breath, exhaling it loudly.

"Yeah."

Anyone else would have grilled him for details. Gunn knew that Fred was just as torn up by Wesley's betrayal as he was, but a soft sigh was all he heard in response to his monosyllabic reply.

"Did you find out what you needed to?" was all she asked.

"I love you." He knew it was a sudden and abrupt change of subject, but he couldn't help it. He could practically hear her smiling, and when she spoke she had that little giggle in her voice that he adored.

"I love you, too...are you coming back here?" she asked with a touch of eagerness that was almost impossible to resist.

Almost impossible.

"In the morning." He wanted to tell her that he was going to convince Angel to let Wesley help, but he knew it would only make her worry more. And he didn't know how to reassure her, since he didn't know how he was going to do it either.

"Oh," she said, and he could tell she was disappointed. He couldn't help but be a little happy about that.

"You go back to sleep. I'll fill you in on all the details tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," he smiled, letting his voice drop down to a low growl. He thought he could hear her shiver, and his smile broadened.

"Okay...I'm glad you called."

"I needed to hear your voice," he admitted.

"Me too. And Gunn...we're gonna get through this, you know. All of us, together."

"Okay. Good night," he said, putting the phone in the cradle before fully registering her goodbye. He didn't know what it was about her last words that had frightened him, but they had. They were true, he realized. One way or another, they would all be going through this together. He just wasn't sure that all of them would be making it out the other side.

Gunn sat in a hard unyielding plastic chair by Wesley's hospital bed and contemplated equally hard unyielding questions until he finally found the respite of sleep. He feared he would never find the respite of answers. It was like he had said, there were no good choices.

"Choose and perish," he murmured in his sleep. The nurse that had come in at that moment to check her patient's vitals gave him a quick startled glance, then smiled, shaking her head. He was just a young kid, she thought to herself.

What could he possibly know about hard choices?

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