It's late when they finally make it through the front door; shrieks and blood-stained frames still dancing around in their minds, relentless, torturing them. Marc, Steven and Jake never talk about how it affects them to still be the fist of Khonshu, the protectors of the travellers of the night; but they don't have the need to, either. They all know what it feels to take a life, and they try not to, but it's not always possible.
Jake's the one in charge of the body tonight. He knows Marc and Steven better than he knows himself, and he also knows that with the number of people involved in the mission they just succeeded in, his other alters aren't quite right to make it home. So he fronts, allowing them to rest in the headspace like Steven or vanish somewhere in the subconscious like Marc.
Either way, it's their choice. The same way that it's Jake's choice to get them home safe and take care of the body once he gets there: washing the remaining blood from his hair; eating, drinking water, getting under the covers and cuddling you after a long week of not seeing his best girl, too. All those things that Jake doubts the others can do without breaking.
Because he hates it when they break and you have to reassure them; because Jake thinks that when you signed up to be their girlfriend, you didn't sign up to mother them, to fix the wounds their actual mother left. He says nothing because he knows the others need it, but he will never let you worry for him the way you worry for the others.
Jake is expecting to find you awake, maybe have dinner together if you haven't yet. You always wait for them to come back, even when they tell you not to. And that's why it's so weird, and all his alarms go off, when he opens the door to find the flat in complete darkness.
He squints in the darkness, trying to get his eyes used to it; and locks the door behind him.
Steven's distinctive accent almost makes him jump. The flat is so silent and dark that Jake is starting to think you've gone out somewhere. He finishes with the five —yes, five— locks they have on their front door and then turns around to see Steven's faded reflection on the glass of a picture frame.
For a second, all he sees is the actual photo it holds. It's the first picture you have with him, with Jake, after the first date you both had. He loves that picture. Then, he looks at the reflection.
"How do you expect me to know?" he asks. "You are seeing the same thing I do."
"It was a rhetorical question."
"Seguro que sí..." (Sure it is...)
Looking for you, Jake gets into the bedroom space. He doesn't even switch on the lights, not a single one of them; he doesn't want to risk waking you up in case you are sleeping. So the moonlight is the only thing guiding him through the maze of books that it's their flat. And it isn't until he is standing next to you, that he actually can get an image of you curled up under the covers.
Jake crouches down to look at you, a gentle smile showing up on his now calm features. He never looks and feels as content and calm as he is when he's next to you, especially when you fall asleep in his arms and he gets to admire you without you arguing that he's looking at you too much.
But even if you look somewhat peaceful while sleeping, he feels a knot in his stomach, a gut feeling. Something is wrong, something feels very wrong even if he doesn't know what it is. And he is one to follow his instincts, they have never failed him.
That's why he turns on the bedside table light. You don't look bad now that he can see you properly, but you don't look completely peaceful either. Your lips are pursed, your fist is clenched around the duvet, and you're wrapped up to your neck when normally you complain that it's too hot in London. This is normal for you when spring is just beginning, Jake thinks, especially coming from a Finnish woman. Even though he doubts any other Finnish complains about the weather in London as much as you do.
Slowly and gently, not entirely meaning to wake you up, he tucks a couple of strands of hair behind your ear. Your skin is warm under his calloused fingers and cold hand, and once he touches you Jake knows it's very hard to make himself stop. But then, you frown and gasp under his touch.
Jake frowns too, mirroring you. Something is definitely not right.
"Eli... mi amor," he caresses your cheek gently, with the back of his fingers. "Are you having a nightmare, baby?"
That's directed more at himself than at you, but he still whispers.
"Elisa," he gets closer, his hand cupping your cheek and hoping to wake you up in the gentlest way possible. He doesn't want to scare you if you are having a nightmare. "Eli, wake up. Venga, mi amor. Ya estoy en casa."
He expects you to jump awake. He's ready to catch you in his arms, actually. But you don't. With a long exhale, your eyes open. They are not frightened, Jake notices, there are no tears in the corner of your eyes or restlessness in your pupils. He smiles, relieved, and for a second, you smile too.
Then your features change. You jump back away from him, as far as the bed goes, and for a second he's worried that you might fall from it.
Jake frowns, panicking for a second, wondering if he still has blood on his face despite washing it as best he could in the restrooms of a bus station on his way back.
"Mi amor, it's me," he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's worried and confused, two feelings that he hates to have because it means he's not in actual control of the situation.
"I know it's you," you respond.
He feels his fingers beginning to shake. He hates it.
In a desperate attempt to get closer to you, one of his knees rests on the edge of the mattress, his whole body stretching forward before you reach out your hands and tell him.
"Don't get closer, Jake," you say. "I'm being serious."
His heart shatters, and it shows on his whole face; the way a muscle in his jaw ticks when he clenches it, the way he looks as if he was in pain. Well, because he is.
"Wha- what?" he asks, he sounds like a lost soul. "Why?"
Bringing a hand to your face, two fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh.
"I'm sorry, Jake, baby. I have covid," you tell him. "I just don't want you to catch it, okay? I just got a positive test earlier."
But if you thought that would make him turn away, you were very wrong.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, trying to get even closer. "Are you alright? Is there anything you need?"
"Could you just... back off, please?"
He chuckles, because he just has to.
"Elisa, come here and let me take care of you," he says. "We are immune to diseases too, not just knives and bullets. Come on, get here."
At first, you hesitate. Jake is very capable of lying to get what he wants, especially when that includes your well-being. But you need him right now, more than you need anything else. And you slowly crawl back to him, to his warm body and gentle hands and the loving non-sense that comes out of his mouth. Your boys have been gone for a week, and you missed them.
"Forget about the mission," he says, now holding you in his arms. He lowers his head and brushes his nose against yours. "How are you feeling?"
His own heart breaks again when he sees you trying to get closer, even if he has you already firmly pressed against his heart, your thighs over his lap.
"Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asks.
"No, it's not that," you respond. "I think I'm losing my taste and smell. Everything smells like smoke. And I'm... well, terrified."
"Uhm..." he says. He strokes your arm, up and down. Not only because you need it, but because he needs it too. Then, he tries to light up the mood, as best he can. "Well, Marc will be very happy that someone finally will eat his food, I guess."
You chuckle, lightly. Then scold him for making fun of Marc. Jake silently ravishes in how you seem to look a bit less concerned about the whole covid situation.
Then, a comfortable silence settles in. You have half of your face pressed against his chest, and the sound of his heart is lulling you back to sleep. Even the cotton of his t-shirt feels nice against your fingers. Jake keeps caressing all the flesh he can reach: your arms, your naked shoulders, the outer side of your thighs, your knees...
You're almost falling back to sleep when you ask him.
"I'm scared it will be permanent," you say, wrinkling your nose as you try to smell the scent on his clothes, and, although you can make out something underneath the smell of smoke, it's not enough to satisfy you. "I don't wanna be sick."
"Don't worry about that, mi amor," he says. "I won't let anything happen to you. You know I will do anything. If I have to threaten Khonshu into healing you, I will."
"For you, Eli? Anything, mi amor," he says, his warm hand still making its path on your arm. "We love you so much. The others would be lost without you, I wouldn't be able to make it home each time we go away if it wasn't for you. You're our light, baby."
"I love you too, Jake," you chuckle, even if it comes out sad because of your own tears drowning your words.
"Go back to sleep, nena," he says. "I'll be here in the morning."
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
THERE AREN'T ENOUGH WORDS IN THE ENGLISH DICTIONARY FOR ME TO EXPRESS HOW HAPPY THIS MADE ME!! I can try to express that with reaction pics and by screaming, but it won't do the joy any justice.
You're literally an angel, I've thought so before this too but now??? I'm convinced you're a bunch of angels, rainbows and sunshine in a trench coat trying to pass as one person.
My crops? Watered. Skin? Cleared. Soul? Healed!! This made me so damn happy that I don't even care about being sick 🥺
When I read my own name, I almost screamed because I could picture it in his voice 😭❤️
You know me so well and you know I love angst and hurt/comfort. The parts about Marc's cooking and complaining about London weather were absolutely brilliant as well, I'm obsessed. Your writing is among my favourite things this world has to offer so reading this felt like the nicest gift ever. I love this.
THANK YOU!!! What have I done to deserve you and this?
