And the Peace is Shattered // Wes

[Charlotte Delprat]

After a few days of living in London with her stepbrother and his sheep Charlie decided that she liked it. The school was fine and Wes and Kyle had been understanding when it came to how much she trusted them. The two of them were obviously very close and she’d been worried (among other things) about becoming something of a fifth wheel. But the two of them had taken care to include her in their talks, rearranged their TV schedule to include her shows, and agreed to take her out shopping when they found out she needed new boots. They were small things but Charlie was immensely grateful since they made adjusting to yet another new household so much easier.

The brothers may have been close, but they were also very different in both appearance and personality. Kyle was broad and brown and endlessly patient. Charlie had seen him spend a whole five hours giving a bottle of formula to a stroppy badger cub that seemed intent on clawing his shirt to ribbons. A saint would probably have long given up. Wes was fair of face and very fluffy, which was a really weird term to describe a human but fitted so well. He may have looked sweet but Charlie soon realised that Wes was downright crafty when he wanted to be, how else did he persuade Kyle to let them go to the heart of London by themselves under the pretence of needing more sweets?

While both Charlie and Wes liked lollies that wasn’t why they were out. No, their mission this morning was to find a cake for Kyle and somehow smuggle it back to the house without him knowing. Wes had said that it wouldn’t be difficult because as he put it “Kyle has the brains of a hamster”. Charlie was just happy to amble along and marvel at the cake designs they came across, who in their right mind would want a replica of London Bridge for their birthday?

“What’s Kyle’s favourite animal?” asked Charlie as she examined a cake in the shape of an octopus “maybe we could get one in the shape of that. What do you think Wes, Wes?”

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

Kyle's birthday had been quickly approaching, and the Kiwi was more than positive that the pigheaded oaf had forgotten about it in the recent whirlwind of events. There had been the kidnapping, fighting with his father, Charlie, and worst of all Nessie the irritating woman sticking her nose in where it did not belong. Honestly he hated her, coming around and bothering Kyle with that ugly arse face and smile, it was a good thing that Kyle was occupied with so many other things to keep his mind off of his birthday. If she stuffed herself in between this family event too he wouldn't know how he would be able to contain himself, it was hard enough tolerating her casually.

Yet that wasn't what was important.

Now was the time for elaborate schemes, surprises, and best of all family warmth. He even had his own little Charlie to help him with the preparations, she seemed to have a knack for styles and such that he would never understand, and stepped right along with his plan. Firstly they needed the cake, something wild and ridiculous that would make his brother's eyes bug out in curiosity and the endless temptation of something new to delve into. Then of course came the presents, which was their ultimate goal to be achieved before dinner. It wasn't like they had procrastinated on getting him a gift or anything, it was just that they may had waited a few weeks too long to become productive.

Charlie of course wanted to pick out the cake first, and he wandered about with her past numerous elaborate displays, chatting lightly as they tried to find something that fit both the budget and their needs. Anything chocolate was obviously off the table, the dog that Kyle had temporarily at home would be able to slobber up a slice safely like that. It wasn't like his brother had some profound love for the flavor anyways.

The attack though was gradual this time, a tightness in his chest that he chose to ignore, it seemed just like every other day that passed. But it was the walking that was the end of him, wandering about the city with Charlie far more strenuous than he had originally imagined, the Kiwi straining to keep his breathing even as he rested against the shop window. Charlie wasn't aware of just how sick he was, Kyle made a point never to make mention of it and Wes simply didn't want to speak of it. So he pushed himself, not wanting to frighten her, relying on his willpower to get him home.

Yet it seemed willpower wasn't enough to help if his body failed him, especially with how shallowly he breathed to keep her from noticing anything out of the ordinary. Spots appeared before his eyes as he leaned against the display window, enjoying the chill on his skin that seemed to assist in keeping him alert for Charlie's numerous questions, taking a deep breath to answer her latest.

"It's...uh..." he raised a hand to his mouth as he suddenly started to cough uncontrollably, a vile honk coming from his throat with each one, almost like the chirp of a seal if put through a grinder. The Kiwi's face was painted red as he struggled to regain control, fingers twitching and stiffening as the tips numbed. Everything just seemed to...freeze. His feet fell out from under him and he toppled over, head hitting the pavement directly with the teen far too gone to muster the strength to cushion it with his arms.

[Charlotte Delprat]

Charlie looked around to see where Wes had got to and found him leaning against the window display. She was about to scold him for coughing on the glass (seriously it looked pretty gross) when she realised that Wes wasn’t doing your normal “there’s a tickle in my throat” sort of cough. This was deeper, wetter, more like a dog’s bark than a boy’s. Then his face turned red and before Charlie could react he had crumpled down on the footpath and banged his head on the pavement.

“Wes? Oh shit Wes are you okay?” Charlie was down on her knees and looking to see if Wes had any cuts from his fall. There weren’t any but Wes was still far from being alright, his face was red and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. Charlie had once seen a kid at school with asthma have an attack and this sort of looked like that. Wait, if Wes was asthmatic then he should be carrying a puffer, where was it? Had he left it at home? Kyle was at home! She had to call Kyle!

He phone was out and ringing within two heartbeats. “Come on. Pick up pick up” Charlie whined as the ringing hum continued. When the phone was answered she didn’t even bother to say hello and her panicked words babbled together incomprehensibly “Kyle you’ve got to come and get us! Wes is having an asthma attack or something and he doesn’t have a puffer. We’re not at the sweet shop, we lied. We’re at Sol” at that point her phone made a dull beeping tone and the low battery sign flashed on the screen. “Dammit!” Charlie threw her phone down on the ground and didn’t care when it broke in two. Westley’s face wasn’t even red anymore, he was grey and his lips were turning a stoney blue.

[Kyle Kirkland]

Having the house to himself was something of a rarity for Kyle and so far he was enjoying it immensely. A birdlife documentary was on and he was watching it idly from the couch with the remote in one hand and a jar of vegemite in the other. Things had been pretty hectic lately, a kidnapping, a dog, a Charlie and a bloke that was apparently his father; so this opportunity to relax and veg out was very welcome. Then the phone just had to ring. Kyle sighed, shoved the dog off his legs and fished the phone out from under the sofa. “Kyle here”

“Kyle you’ve got to come and get us!” And just like that Kyle’s lazy afternoon had disappeared down the metaphorical plug hole. He managed to glean that Wes was having an attack and they weren’t at the sweet shop even though the bloody Kiwi had insisted that was the precise place they were going to. Then, before Charlie could tell him where they actually were, the call cut out.

“Charlie wait! Where were you?” He tried calling her back but all he got was her voicemail. He then tried calling Westley’s phone only to hear it ringing from inside the fridge “Damn you Wes!” Kyle stuffed his feet into his boots and started looking for his keys. He’d have to find them, somehow. But where could they be? London was massive. He collected the things that Wes would need, his inhaler (why wasn’t he carrying that?) his nebuliser, a blanket and Daffy. He was about to bundle the lot up into the car and start driving in a random direction to start his search when Matilda signalled him from the kitchen table. She was sitting by a notebook that Kyle recognised as Westley’s diary and he looked at the page she was pointing at. “They went to Sloane Street?” Matilda nodded and he reached down to hug her “You little beauty” then ran out the front door.

Now with a destination to head for Kyle started down the driveway and barely missed a cyclist as he rounded the street corner. ‘Hang in there Wes. I’m coming’.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

Thump. . .



Thump. . .



Thump. . .



Westley's pulse throbbed, the only noise he could decipher through the endless buzzing in his ears. It was almost like he was watching the world from outside himself, through a thick pane of glass that sliced off all sound and left Charlie flapping her lips like a fish. Her eyes were wide and lips suddenly pursed into a tight line of self control, brown globes staring unblinkingly at the Kiwi sprawled back on the pavement with his chest heaving.



He felt strangely heavy for one built so slight, any movement feeling strangely muffled like he was sinking into a giant vat of lard. One would think that it would be warm floating in a pool of such a substance that melted easily with contact of body heat, that the longer he lay there the easier it would be to free himself from it's clutches. Yet with each moment he felt heavier, vision growing fuzzy and slowly turning to static. Something was wrong, he knew it very well but for some reason Westley didn't feel afraid. The cold was calming, enveloping him as he slipped back into it's gentle embrace. He had assumed that it would be frightening to die, but all he could focus on was how comfortable it was to just fade away without the pain he had feared.



His eyes were half lidded, unfocused slits of green peeking through as an unnatural rasping was ground out from his throat. The little scene had certainly caught the attention of those that were idly passing by, one or two getting out their cellulars and hurriedly calling an ambulance as they stood at a distance. It was almost as if people were afraid it was some sort of contagious disease afflicting the fallen Kiwi. In fact that was exactly what was feared, with a pertussis outbreak in the news a few months earlier people still were on edge. After all it had been said that even vaccinated children had been some of the ones infected by it. Who would want to risk their health at catching a possibly mutated deadly disease?

[Kyle Kirkland]

‘First I’m going to kill him, no first I’m going to make him admit that Phar Lap was Australian then I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to make him eat spinach and watch Muriel’s Wedding and then I’ll’ Kyle’s plots of vengeance continued in this fashion as he drove as fast as sanely possible through the streets to get to Wes and Charlie. What in the name of all insane ideas was Wes thinking when he’d left the house without his gorram inhaler! Who did he think he was? An immortal god? Admittedly most eighteen year olds did think they were indestructible but Wes should have known better, he did know better. Most of the time he was careful enough with his health. But this time he had gone and left his things back at the house, even his phone. Charlie was the one who had called him.

Charlie. Was she okay? Kyle had known about Westley’s illness since he was young and knew what to do. But Charlie was just a kid, she thought Wes was having an asthma attack. On the phone she had sounded frightened, as anyone would be if they had not seen a person collapse before. From the passenger’s seat Daffy started bleating alerting Kyle to the crowd on the footpath. That must be them. He parked the car hurriedly in a no parking zone and made his way to the crowd. There in the middle was Wes and he hurried over to give him his medicine. Some sort of protective instinct belatedly awoke in the bystanders and they moved to shield the youngster, Kyle was having none of it. “What are youse? Good Samaritans? He’s my brother so you can clear off.”

Finally he reached Wes and slipped the nebuliser over his face. Westley’s eyes were glazed over and it was impossible to tell how in touch with reality he was right now but Kyle talked anyway. “I’m here Wes. You’re a dingbat. Don’t ever do that again.” Wes was shivering so Kyle reached out blindly for the blanket, the hand that passed it to him was small and shaking and he remembered Charlie needed him too. “Thanks Charlie, you did great. I’m going to carry him into the car now and we’ll get out of here. Okay?” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears of fear and relief, her saw the way she swallowed them back and determinedly followed him back to the car. They would have to talk with her later.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

It took a while for the shock of the whole incident to even mildly blow over, Kyle still furious in his disappointment at how careless he had been once he returned to the realm of the living. By the time the Kiwi had fully come they had already arrived home, his brother gingerly lifting him up out of the seat to be carried inside as his eyes blurred back into focus. He blinked, ridding himself of the gritty feeling as his mind readjusted itself to accommodate his situation, chest burning as he forced his breathing to stay even. Westley allowed himself to be momentarily babied, not directly addressing Kyle to let him know that he had come to, instead simply pressing his cheek to his chest while he focused on breathing and the familiar presence.

In and out. In and out. Slowly, surely, counting between each movement of his chest to keep it steady. Charlie went forgotten in his mind, as did the unfortunate cake they had abandoned in the store window. His mind was a mirror, aware of what it could see, yet not acknowledging nor processing anything below the surface. He waited until he was set down on his bed to sit up, gripping the headboard with a fist and straining whilst he held his breath and peered around. The back of his head stung, horridly so, and with a little investigation he was surprised to find a rather impressive goose egg nestled snugly behind the fine chestnut hair.

It was Daffyd who eventually alerted Kyle of his waking, letting out a harsh bleat as he rose onto his hind hooves for a moment and nuzzled his side in the usual comforting ovine manner. And it was only then that Wes decided to address him, and quell the worries that were likely spinning in his stomach that he wasn't alright. Well, he wasn't alright, but he wasn't that badly not alright, that sounded better. "Can you make a spot of tea?" the Kiwi rasped out, rather surprised at how raw his throat felt now that he had spoken, he didn't remember yelling. "With honey..."

The manner which he addressed the incident was rather casual, if it could even be called addressing it. Everything prior to what felt like a rather pained sleep had an almost ethereal quality to it, a dream, stuffed with cotton and hardly terrifying. He could remember it now, and falling back had almost felt like he was sinking back into Kyle's bed after a day of terrorizing him endlessly as a child.

[Kyle Kirkland]

The car was filled with the sound of rising tension as they made their way back to the house. With his nebuliser on Westley’s breathing gradually returned to normal. The slow recovery left his face bone white which, although by no means healthy looking, was an enormous improvement from the tinged blue that it had been. Daffy rested his head in the boy’s lap the way a dog might, offering a quiet but solid presence. Charlie sat silent in the back and bolted into the house as soon as they parked. Kyle trailed behind her, carrying the still weakened Westley up to his room where he was going to stay for at least a week and preferably a month if Kyle had his way.

Once he was on the bed Wes blinked and sat up gingerly. Rubbing his head he turned to look at Kyle and asked, as casually as he would if he had just returned from a day at school and thrown himself onto the couch in the living room "Can you make a spot of tea? With honey?"

It was these words that made something within Kyle explode. “Make you tea? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Do you have any idea what I...” Words failed him. How could he explain the icy rage that was freezing his throat and threatened to spill out of his eyeballs? Didn’t he know how much effort his doctors, his mother, his family and Kyle his brother expended to keep him healthy? To keep him whole? Didn’t he realise that his mad escapade around London without his medicine nor his phone was a level of disrespect for their efforts that was akin to spitting in their faces? Didn’t he know how much it hurt to see him in pain?

Kyle hugged Matilda to himself and walked out of the bedroom. His normal boundless energy reserves seemed to have left him and he only made it as far as the stairs. He sat still there for so long that the dog, the parrot and the crocodile came over to see what was going on. Somewhere in the background he heard Westley’s voice but the cold lump of fury that was inside his throat prevented him from answering. Eventually he would get up and continue to straighten things out but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to Westley again in the near future.

[Westley Walters-Kirkland]

“Make you tea? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Do you have any idea what I...”

Westley stared at him in momentary confusion, loosening his hold to slip back down into his pillow's comforting embrace. Kyle yelled, sure he did, Westley had a natural talent for driving him to raise his voice to be heard over the endless stubborn streak he harbored. However,this wasn't Kyle's usual yelling, the man's voice hardly raised in the slightest. The only emotion that seasoned it was worn hollow exasperation. His brother sounded utterly defeated, and that was far more frightening than any blasting rage that one could image. It was silent, an icy grip of guilt that clamped around his chest and seemed to restrict his breathing more than usual, more than the more than usual of today.

Then again, outside of the tone he hardly understood why Kyle would behave in such a manner to a simple request of tea. Somehow he received the feeling though that it was his fault, and blindly reacted as such to regain one of the few people he truly cared for's affection.

"Kyle..." he called out into the dim hallway through the half open door, the teen lying on his side with the neutralizer mask digging into the bridge of his nose. "Kyle can I have a painkiller?" It was a simpler request, one that he certainly couldn't see unintentionally harassing Kyle in any which way. Yet, after a few moments of silence he wasn't quite sure if he had been properly heard. The teenager leaned forward, eyes narrowed whilst he focused on listening for any sounds of footsteps on the stairs, or any footsteps at all for that matter. All that met the Kiwi's ears though was utter crushing silence, a rarity in the house like none other between the parrot and the howler monkey.

"Kyle?!" he called again, raising his voice a few decibels to be sure that he was being heard. "Kyle! KYLE!" With each moment of silence Westley grew more and more desperate, raising his voice to such a pitch that it left his throat feeling as if he was swallowing handfuls of crushed glass with someone slapping his lungs with a golf club. Energy wasted he fell back, a whistle and a wheeze to accompany the rise and fall of his chest.

"Kyle..."

He pressed his face into Daffyd's side, taking deep breaths and counting along with the clock to keep himself grounded and measured.

One. Two. In.

Three. Four. Out.

Then repeat.

[Kyle Kirkland]

Kyle blinked away from the trance like state he’d fallen into when a sharp tug at his hair revealed that the parrot was reminding him that it was feeding time. Feed the parrot. Right. He could do that. It was all about baby steps wasn’t it? He got to his feet by clutching the bannister and made his way downstairs. Mechanically he set about dispensing food to all that needed it. When the critters were munching away he glanced at the stairs again. Wes probably needed to be checked on again didn’t he? He needed to make sure he was recovering properly, dose him up so he could rest in some comfort.

Could he do that?

It wasn’t much of a question really. He had to take care of Wes. He was Kyle’s responsibility, as much as any of the animal residents of the household were. He couldn’t abandon him. And yet, there was some small but very cross part of him that was wondering whether leaving the boy to anguish for a while would teach him to not take the efforts other people made to keep him well lightly.

His eventual action was something of a compromise between the two extremes. He went upstairs armed with a glass of water and some painkillers. However he didn’t plump the pillows and get in the bed for a while to snuggle like he normally would. Wes must’ve found the whole situation alarming because he drank the water and took his meds like a lamb without the usual whining and fussing that he was prone to.

Now for Charlie.

What was he going to say to her? The rage he felt at Westley’s actions vanished abruptly when he remembered the fear that had been in Charlie’s face when he’d found them on the footpath. This wasn’t her fault and there was no way he could be angry at her. But he did need to find her so he could explain everything. He looked in her room, the kitchen and the laundry before eventually finding her up the tree in the back yard. Where to start?

“Hey kiddo” He called up to her gently.