#traumatophobia

A hand pushes against his chest, gently.  It takes him several seconds to process that he’s laying down, again.

“Wha-”

“Shhh, Jessito,”  a gravelly, yet tender voice speaks from the darkness.  “I’m here.”

Jesse furrows his brows, confused.  He has to be dreaming, because the only person who ever called him that was-

“G-Gabe?”  

He tries to twist back up, but the hand pushes, again- firmer this time. 

“Settle down. You’re in no condition to be moving right now.”  

He registers the familiar rough fabric of a glove brushing against his cheek, and the tickling of a sleeve, much softer, like velvet.  He can’t help but lean into it.  It’s been a long time since anyone’s gotten close enough to touch him, especially like this, even in his dreams.

“You trespassed onto the Witch’s land,” the voice says.   “I found you unconscious in the forest.  The blood,” the form gestures, ”is what made me discover you.  Someone hit you pretty damn hard, hunter.  But they must not have wanted you dead.”  The thumb brushes lightly, and Jesse winces as it makes contact with a fresh bruise.  “I’m glad,”

“Gabe...is it really you?”  Jesse peers up at the shape.  

The figure moves, and the light finally hits just right.  He widens his eyes.

“It is.  Though...I no longer go by that name.”

“What...,” he swallows.  “What happened?  I thought-  this ain’t a dream, is it?”

Reaper shakes his head.  “Not a dream.  A nightmare perhaps.  But not one any of us can wake from.”

There’s a sigh, and then Reaper is looking off, staring at the wall, a frown plastered on his face.  

“I’m not sure what exactly happened, after we got separated on that mission.  I just remember...dirt.  So much of it.  I clawed my way out.  Never thought I’d reach the surface.  When I finally made it, the world was too bright, too much.  It hurt.  And then...,”  he swallows, and even in the dark Jesse can make out the way his hand trembles.  

“They were on me.  I was too weak, too overwhelmed to fight.  They brought me here, to this castle, and the Witch...she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Eyes, now red, instead of the warm brown he was used to, gaze into his own.

“I wanted to go find you so badly.  But it took me so long to learn to control my...urges.  I didn’t want to hurt you, mi amor.”  A hand reaches out, again, brushing lightly.  “And I didn’t want them to hurt you, either.”  

Jesse can feel the contained rage, can sense it in the tension of the hand against his skin.  He reaches up, gently captures it in his own, rubs his thumb against the gloved fingers in reassurance, and hopes that is enough as he listens.

It must be, because he feels the way he seems to soften, again.  

“So I kept my distance, kept track of you for years.  You’ve made me proud, Jesse,” Reaper smiles.  And Jesse can feel the tears prickling.  He blinks to keep them back, but even through his blurred vision, he can tell Reaper’s eyes mirror his own. 

“I thank G-,” he chokes, tightens a fist.  And then Jesse’s latching onto his arm, dragging the vampire down until his head is pressed against his aching chest.  He combs through the hair, grown-out longer than he ever remembers it being, and feels the way the man he loved, usually so strong and composed, trembles against him.

“Shhh, pumpkin.  I know.”  He closes his eyes, continues the soothing motion, then lets out a soft chuckle as he thinks.  “You know, I could do without these injuries and all, but I’m glad it brought me back to you.  It’s funny how fate works, but after all these years,  I’ve finally found my way back home.”

"Mmm I have to agree with that sentiment.”

They lay in silence for several minutes, Reaper’s ear pressed to his heart, like he used to do, when they shared the same bed.  When they shared a life together.  

Jesse is the one to break the silence, to shatter the found moment, so much like a long-lost memory.  “Do they know I’m here?”

Reaper tenses, then shakes his head.  “Not yet.  But I can’t keep your presence hidden forever.  As soon as you are well, you’ll need to-”

“No.  I ain’t leaving without you.”

Reaper sighs.  There’s the stubborn hunter he’d fallen for.  

“Jesse, I can’t.  I can’t just-”

“We’ll find a way.  I ain’t givin’ up on you, and I ain’t lettin’ you go when I just got you back, you hear?  Besides,” he says, “I know you’d do the same for me.”

Reaper raises his head and looks him dead in the eye.  “You may be right.  But we better come up with one damn good plan.  We only have one chance at this.”

The corner of Jesse’s mouth quirks up.  “Well, it’s a good thing I have the world’s best tactician at hand.  But before we get to all that brainstormin’, you happen to have a smoke anywhere, sweetpea?”

Reaper smiles, hesitating for just a second before pressing a kiss to the man's cheek.  “Stay put.  I still have the last pack you gave me back in my quarters.”

He gently and half-reluctantly pushes himself up and away, and Jesse watches, as much as the darkness allows, as the man he loves slips away.  This time, he hopes, only for a few minutes.

“If you want to.  You don’t have to, though.  There’s no obligation.  I can do it myself.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I want to do what I can.”  

“Okay.”  He moves his arms out of the way to give McCree access.

He knows how badly the young man feels the need to prove himself, to feel that he is of use.  It was ingrained into Jesse in his youth, in his Deadlock days, that he could not be a burden to others and that it was in his own best interest to make sure those on top were satisfied with his work, with him.

Gabe’s tried to reassure him with words that it’s not necessary, that he doesn’t need to go out of his way for him, that everything’s not a test.  Jesse means far more to him than the young man’s skill or what he’s willing to sacrifice or do for him, for this organization.  His dedication is admirable, but he likes to stress to Jesse that he has choices, has a voice, just like everyone else.  

He thinks they’ve made some progress over the years, but he knows it will take time (if ever) to get Jesse completely to the point where he feels secure with where he’s at.  For now he lets Jesse do what makes him comfortable and makes sure he always can back out or speak up.

He’s broken from his thoughts with a question. He can hear the anxiety in the voice.

“Did you, did you sterilize this proper?” McCree asks, gesturing at the wound,”Maybe we should-”

“Jesse.  I’ve been around and injured enough to at least know how to administer basic treatment.  I told you, there’s no reason to worry, okay?  If it makes you feel any better, I promise I’ll go to Angela if something seems off.”

He hesitantly nods.  “Yes, Sir.”  

The bandages are rough in Jesse’s hands as he presses them against the bruised skin.  Gabe winces, but remains still, patiently waiting as Jesse begins wrapping his abdomen with trembling fingers.

“You know,” he says, after a few seconds, “you don’t need to call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone, right?”

Jesse looks up briefly, catches the soft, reassuring  smile.  He nods, again, continuing to wind the cloth around him.  “Too tight, Gabe?”

There’s a sense of relief in hearing his name, titles dropped.  “No.  That’s good.”

With the bandages in place, Jesse feels around for a safety pin.  Finding one, he carefully secures the bandages in place.

“There, good as new.  Thank you for your help, Jess.”

Gabe reaches into his locker for a clean shirt, pulls it on carefully.  As he finishes adjusting it, McCree hands him his hoodie.  “Thank you,” he says as he takes it.

“It’s no problem, darlin’.”

While he pulls it on, Jesse stuffs the supplies back into the locker.  The door shuts with a clang and a click.

“Hey, If you could keep this whole injury thing just between us, it’d be much appreciated. I respect if you feel the need to do otherwise, but I just think there’s no reason to make people worry over nothing.  And you know Angela will be on my ass if she finds out I didn’t head straight for the medbay.”

Jesse laughs.  “That sounds about right.  But sure thing.  You’ll make good on your promise, right?”

Gabe smiles and leans in close to kiss his cheek.  “Of course.  Never been a promise I haven’t kept.  I don’t intend on starting now..”  He cups Jesse’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly, tenderly.  “That ease your worries a little?”

He receives a peck on the lips and a grin.   “I reckon that’ll have to do for now.  We still on for tonight?”

“Pigging out on popcorn and watching movies 'til dawn- wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’ll be sure to sneak us some beers, too.  Maybe some of those candies you like so much, too.  Still got a few left.”

“Mmmm, that sounds good.  But, as much as I’d like to stay and talk over our fine, nutritious meal, I do have a debriefing to get to.  Morrison’s probably on the edge of his seat by now.”

“I reckon he can wait a few more minutes.  One more kiss for the road...sweet pea?” There’s a boldness there, and Gabe can’t help but love the look in his eyes.

He pulls him forward, careful to keep a small amount of space between the man and his own injury.  Their mouths work against eachother, hungry and eager, like it's been an eternity instead of a day.  

They reluctantly separate for breath.

Gabe’s hands fall away.  “I’ll head back to my room after the meeting.  Shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’ll be there.”

A hand reaches up to cup one of his own.  

“You worry too much.”

There is no smile, no teasing names.  Just a look of pure exhaustion and something else that he can’t quite put a name to, but he knows.  He can feel it  deep down and it makes his heart ache.

He takes his hands away, Gabe’s hand weakly dropping to his side.  He pulls the man close, holding him firmly, but trying not to press too hard.  Not until he has time to properly check for any more injuries.

Gabriel doesn’t protest.  He allows himself to sink into the warmth of the embrace, though it only partially reaches him.  He still feels miles away.

He vaguely feels Jack’s hand rubbing his back in what registers as a soothing manner.  He takes a deep, shuddering breath, buries his head in husband’s shoulder.  He doesn’t want to think right now, doesn’t want to remember.

“What can I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do now,”  Gabe mumbles, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”  The words are whispered in his ear as he’s pulled closer.  “I’m sorry.  I should have been there.  I should have been by your side.”.  

He swallows the lump in his throat, tries to keep his voice steady.  “It would have changed nothing.”  

He doesn’t want to think about it.  He doesn’t want to talk about it.  He doesn’t want to acknowledge how draining this job can be.  That lately he has spent more time apart from Jack than with him.   He doesn’t want to think about how heavily this job weighs on him, how the blood can never be washed away, how he can never find rest.

Most of all, he doesn’t want to burden Jack.  He knows the man carries more burdens than he can bear- and in the spotlight no less.  

He clenches and unclenches the fabric of Jack’s jacket in his hand and he feels Jack’s own hand continue its’ gentle ministrations.  He swallows, again, his throat and chest uncomfortably tight.  

He has the sudden urge to flee, but he forces himself not to push the man away.  He tightens his grip on the jacket and feels Jack awkwardly quirk his head to kiss the side of his own.

“Gabe, mi sol, you know that it’s okay to hurt and breakdown. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”  There’s another soft kiss.  “I’m here now.  I’ve got you.”  

It takes him a few seconds to reply as he tries to keep himself together.  

“We don’t have time to breakdown, Jack.  We’re leaders.”

“We may be leaders, but we’re only human, Gabe.  You can’t leave this all pent up.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Jack gives a weak smile, pulling away, out of the embrace.  “I know.  I know it’s hard.  But I have your back, Gabe.”  He gently kisses his lips.   “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jack suddenly pulls away walking over to the light and flicking it off.  He moves back to Gabe, taking his hand.

“Let’s turn in for the night. The reports can wait until tomorrow.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen and for a second he’s almost smiling.  

“Jack Morrison putting off paperwork?  Call the press!”

Jack chuckles, slinging his arm around him and pulling him close.  He kisses his cheek.  

“I meant what I said, Gabe.  I’m here for you.  We’re going to get you cleaned up and then we’ll rest.  And then, when you’re ready, we’ll talk.”

Jack feels his husband lean  into him.  “What did I do to deserve you, Jackie?”

He smiles.  “I wonder what I did to deserve you, too.”

“Te amaré para siempre, mi luna. ”

“Siempre te amaré también, querido.”

They walk together in silence, back to their shared room.