Disclaimer: I do not own Wanted
A/N: This is feeling pretty sentimental. This is the final chapter of my first completed fic. I'm going to miss you guys! Anywho, after rewriting this what feels like 14758632970 times, I have finally produced something to end with. I really hope you guys like it and I want to thank you SOOOO much for everything you guys have done! You guys are awesome!
Sloan was famous for being extremely kempt. His suits were always ironed to perfection and his decorously groomed facial hair silently hinted at power and wealth. He was known to be maniacally well-organized and his expensive taste was particular and strict. He was known to spend much of his time in his library and, as a result, it was known to be perfect. The shelves reach high toward the ceiling, each of which holding the exact maximum of books. The furniture was antique and the artworks were original. This room had been furnished when the Fraternity moved in and there had never been a misplaced book nor rug with a folded corner, for longer than a few moments. Now, things were disastrous.
The staircase leading down is missing significant pieces and the others, while still connected, would break under the slightest weight. Books lay scattered on the dusty floor, torn pages laying still in the dead air. A few books, including The Complete Works of Charles Darwin, Einstein: His Life and Universe, A Brief History of Time, and Catcher in the Rye, had been wounded in the gunfire and the antique desk had crumbled, as a result of a broken leg.
By each pillar lay a person; the youngest of which being nineteen and the oldest being thirty six. Each person had a family and friends. Two had children and one had a wife, whom he kept in touch with secretly, despite the dangers. All but two had living parents and all but three had living siblings. One enjoyed writing and was two chapters away from finishing his first novel. He had been writing the story for over five years and planned to have it published, after leaving the Fraternity.
All but one lay on the once comfortable floor, a bullet lodged inside their bodies, as their systems shut down, one by one. All but two lay dead, their families never to know their fate and hopes and wishes lost and forgotten. Of the two living, one is male and one is female. The male, having been wounded badly in the events prior, is losing blood at a dangerous rate and the female is in shock. From under his wounded body, her mind has frozen between the terror of death, the agony of attempted suicide and the pure fury at meddled plans. Her limbs are rigid and her expression frozen. It is not until the man lifts himself into a position more comfortable for both of them that her mind begins to slowly work again.
Her body struggling to decide on which emotion to act upon, she characteristically choses anger, and lets it drip into her words.
"You should not have done that." Fox says coldly.
Wesley opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a coughing fit that leaves the taste of blood in his mouth. In between his coughs, he counters her remark.
"I think it's the best decision I've ever made." He croaks.
Fox, having no words to say, glares at him with such ferocity; he would have shivered, had he not grown immune to glowers.
Wesley's position suggests that his intentions involve standing but, as another bloody coughing fit begins, he is caught off-balance and falls onto his wounded shoulder. The pain that results draws a sharp, instinctive cry from his lips and Fox's compassion, which was nonexistent before he entered her life, snaps her out of her anger.
Helping him to his feet and allowing him to lean his weight onto her shoulder, she drags him out of the Fraternity, careful to avoid people and cameras.
The idea of trusting her with his wounds was a surprisingly comfortable one for Wesley and, after a while, he was able to operate as usual.
With her help, he constructed a clever and horribly dishonoring assassination of Sloan, which was successful.
Sloan being their last victim, Wesley, who changed his name to Wes Cross, moved to New York City with his shockingly beautiful best friend and lived with her in an apartment for four years.
After that, on her birthday, he proposed to her.
She said yes.
Then, Wes Cross moved to Connecticut with his fiancée and bought a two story house in a child-friendly suburban neighborhood.
Three years after their marriage, their first child was born. They named him Ivan.
Two years after that came their daughter, Eva, was born.
Ivan and Eva were unwittingly given a gift that their parents' never received but always dreamed of; a normal life. Wes Cross became Dr. Cross and earned the respect of his colleagues as a professor at Yale University. Fox also became a Dr. Cross and became an equally well-respected pediatric nurse. Ivan and Eva both made their way through grade school. Ivan was an extremely talented baseball pitcher, who had to deal with his obnoxiously embarrassing mother at every game until high school, in which her cheers were drowned out by the large crowd. Eva, who took ballet all the way through college, maintained impressive grades and developed opinions so clear, her father used to joke about how alike she and her mother were.
Every now and then, the lives of Ivan and Eva would shift to slightly peculiar when they would awake in the night to hear her mother's seemingly unprovoked sobs and father's hushed comforts. They never heard about what happened to their grandfather or about the truth of their parent's meetings. The memories that haunted their mother, particularly that of her code-provoked suicide attempt, changed her usually confident, smiling personality but the reasons were never explained to them.
Every now and then, their parents would argue as parents would. Whether it is in anger or sorrow, their mother would, on occasion, ask their father why he saved her, whatever that meant.
Their father was known to give the same answer each time this question was asked; each time with such sincerity it shocked them.
"Because I love you" he would say.
And that was that.