SM 1.6 - Goodbyes
Jan. 4th, 2007 08:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prodigalwatcher1.6 - Write a ficlet on the topic of "goodbyes".
Of course, it was Lilah who had asked, and when he hadn't been able to give her a good answer, she'd all but laughed in his face. Leave it to someone outside of the circle, someone from the other side of the fight to question something so fundamentally Wesley Wyndam-Pryce that no one else who might have known him for more than a few days would have even given them a second thought.
Even Wesley himself had given up even the subconscious questioning. They weren't something that crossed his mind any longer-- they were simply a part of him and who he was, and there was nothing further to say on the matter.
Lilah Morgan, as she had a habit of doing, threw those preconceptions over.
Wesley brushed dust off the black leather case and prised it open. Spectacles. Eyeglasses. Lenses slightly oblong in shape, thin black rims coming to slight peaks at the temple hinges. He'd worn numerous pairs since his later years at Academy, almost all of them only slight variations in design from these.
Raising them out of the case, Wesley unfolded the earpieces and settled the spectacles in place. The motion of donning them was pure muscle memory, but after so long without wearing them, the weight of the glasses across the bridge of his nose was unfamiliar and awkward. The lenses themselves sported only the barest minimum of magnification, making the pair a miniscule step above window glass.
He'd never needed them, Wesley came to admit to himself. They were an affectation, a prop to complete the pictures of the proper English gentleman, the textbook Watcher Academy graduate, precisely complimenting the fine wool Savile Row suit, the hand-cobbled brogues and monogrammed briefcase. After the suit and the shoes and the other British armour were lost, the glasses remained.
And after everything else was lost, Wesley had done away with them, as well. They were part of a person he no longer was... perhaps no longer knew. But the question was, who was he without them? Did he see more clearly or less without the glasses?
Logic, Wesley knew, would assume that a man who has worn eyeglasses for so long would see poorly deprived of them. And there was some evidence toward that conclusion. Without his friends, without the affection and camaraderie of belonging to Angel Investigations, he was left very much in the dark, unable to clearly see his path. Left to his own devices, unsure of even his basic ability to determine right and wrong, he had been left severely handicapped, if not completely blind.
Then again, it could be argued that removing those elements from his life had brought the world into a kind of sharper focus. Like Occam's Razor, perhaps all that had been extraneous and unnecessary had been cut away. There was only him left, and the mission. His purpose in life was to be a force against the darkness, and without the shackles of companionship and lofty morality, wouldn't it have made him that much freer to fulfill that destiny?
In the end, Wesley decided that it wasn't for him to decide. For good or ill, he had left the other man behind and it was more than past time to be done with him. Reaching out, Wesley threw both spectacles and case into the bin. Without another thought, he rose and left the room.
Muse: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Fandom: 'Angel' the series
Word count: 569
Of course, it was Lilah who had asked, and when he hadn't been able to give her a good answer, she'd all but laughed in his face. Leave it to someone outside of the circle, someone from the other side of the fight to question something so fundamentally Wesley Wyndam-Pryce that no one else who might have known him for more than a few days would have even given them a second thought.
Even Wesley himself had given up even the subconscious questioning. They weren't something that crossed his mind any longer-- they were simply a part of him and who he was, and there was nothing further to say on the matter.
Lilah Morgan, as she had a habit of doing, threw those preconceptions over.
Wesley brushed dust off the black leather case and prised it open. Spectacles. Eyeglasses. Lenses slightly oblong in shape, thin black rims coming to slight peaks at the temple hinges. He'd worn numerous pairs since his later years at Academy, almost all of them only slight variations in design from these.
Raising them out of the case, Wesley unfolded the earpieces and settled the spectacles in place. The motion of donning them was pure muscle memory, but after so long without wearing them, the weight of the glasses across the bridge of his nose was unfamiliar and awkward. The lenses themselves sported only the barest minimum of magnification, making the pair a miniscule step above window glass.
He'd never needed them, Wesley came to admit to himself. They were an affectation, a prop to complete the pictures of the proper English gentleman, the textbook Watcher Academy graduate, precisely complimenting the fine wool Savile Row suit, the hand-cobbled brogues and monogrammed briefcase. After the suit and the shoes and the other British armour were lost, the glasses remained.
And after everything else was lost, Wesley had done away with them, as well. They were part of a person he no longer was... perhaps no longer knew. But the question was, who was he without them? Did he see more clearly or less without the glasses?
Logic, Wesley knew, would assume that a man who has worn eyeglasses for so long would see poorly deprived of them. And there was some evidence toward that conclusion. Without his friends, without the affection and camaraderie of belonging to Angel Investigations, he was left very much in the dark, unable to clearly see his path. Left to his own devices, unsure of even his basic ability to determine right and wrong, he had been left severely handicapped, if not completely blind.
Then again, it could be argued that removing those elements from his life had brought the world into a kind of sharper focus. Like Occam's Razor, perhaps all that had been extraneous and unnecessary had been cut away. There was only him left, and the mission. His purpose in life was to be a force against the darkness, and without the shackles of companionship and lofty morality, wouldn't it have made him that much freer to fulfill that destiny?
In the end, Wesley decided that it wasn't for him to decide. For good or ill, he had left the other man behind and it was more than past time to be done with him. Reaching out, Wesley threw both spectacles and case into the bin. Without another thought, he rose and left the room.
Muse: Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Fandom: 'Angel' the series
Word count: 569
