“Morning.” Allie pressed a steaming mug of coffee into his hands. “Can you take care of Emily this morning? I have to leave in,” she glanced at the clock over the sink, “half an hour for a meeting.”
“Sure.” He kissed her cheek then went to put the mug down on the table so he could sweep his daughter up in a hug. She giggled and snuggled in against him, playing with the dog tags around his neck. “Meeting that bigshot lawyer again, Allie?”
“That bigshot lawyer is paying our bills, so quit annoying him. He's invited us to dinner again this weekend.”
“Tell him I have leprosy.” Jones carefully loosened Emily's grip on his dogtags and set her back down in her seat, then picked up his mug of coffee and slipped an arm around Allie's waist, nuzzling her neck.
“I'm not telling anyone you have leprosy. You're going to dress nicely and you're going to like—well, you're going to endure it.” She swatted his backside and moved away. “I have to get going. I'll call you when I'm on my way home. Bye Emmy, be good for Daddy.” She dropped a kiss on top of Emily's head then brushed another across Jones's mouth before snagging her keys and purse and heading out the door.
“Guess it's just you and me, kid,” Jones said, scooping Emily up again. “Let's get you dressed.” He took her into her bedroom and began the patient process of figuring out which of her clothes she had decided to hate overnight.
He had just convinced her to wear an outfit that wasn't a hideous clash of colours and patterns when the phone rang. Leaving her sitting on her bed he ran to get the portable and took it back into Emily's room as he answered. For a long moment nothing but staticky silence greeted his hello and he was just about to hang up when a woman's voice whimpered his name. His fingers tightened on the case of the phone hard enough to make it creak but he kept his voice calm as he asked, “Who is this?”
The same staticky silence continued for long moments then the voice said his name again, a sob choking off the end of it. This time he recognized it as Allie's and his breath caught in his throat. He looked over at Emily, who was watching him with wide eyes, and through an effort of will he kept his voice steady.
“Allie? Where are you? Just tell me where you are and I'll come get you. I'll come—”
The screaming started then, so loud he flinched back and nearly dropped the phone. It seemed to continue forever but a small, logical piece of him knew it was only a few seconds. He stood frozen in place until the screaming stopped suddenly, cutting off with a liquid gurgle.
“Jonesy.” The new voice was little more than a harsh growl, a sound he was sure no human could produce.
He threw the phone away from him in a sudden, jerky movement. It hit the hardwood floor and broke, sending plastic skittering into the wall. On the bed Emily burst into frightened tears, reaching up her chubby arms toward him as he moved to pick her up. Cradling her with one arm, he went into the kitchen and snatched his keys off the peg, then headed for the door.
It slammed open just as he reached it and he had to twist quickly to protect Emily in his arms. The edge of the door hit him in the shoulder, sending a shock of pain down his arm and frightening Emily into hoarse wails. He caught a brief glimpse of a huge shape in the doorway, then heard the sharp report of a gun and found himself flat on his back with no idea how he got there. He thought of Emily and tried to get up but his limbs felt as heavy as lead, and something hot and wet was dripping down into his eyes, blinding him. He could only lie there, staring up at the hallway light, until it expanded and covered his whole world in white.
Jones opened his eyes to the hallway of his apartment and gentle fingers stroking his hair. For a brief instant he thought it was Allie, then he realized she was still dead and he was lying with his head in Andraeon's lap. A sharp headache pounded behind his eyes and he aborted his attempt to sit up almost as soon as he started it when the movement sent his stomach into somersaults. He could feel a sticky dampness across his mouth and carefully reached up to touch it. His fingers came away stained with red and he realized his nose had been bleeding.
“Drae, help me sit up.” His own voice sounded hoarse and strange in his ears.
“Are you okay? You're bleeding.” Drae pushed him up with surprising strength and settled an arm around him in support.
“It's already stopped.” Jones licked his lips, tasting the coppery metallic tang of his blood, and looked around. “Where's the guy? Sasha, Shasta, whatever his name was.”
“I sent him away.” Drae gently touched Jones's temple, making him wince at the spike of pain across the top of his skull. “He shot you but I think it's just a scratch. Just bled a lot.”
Jones reached up and felt the blood matting his hair down, then gingerly touched the edge of the shallow furrow across his temple. “How long was I out?”
“Ten minutes, give or take. I didn't know what else to do so I just waited for you to wake up.”
“You did fine,” Jones said absently. “Let me just... sit for a minute. My head is killing me.”
“I'm sorry.” Andraeon ghosted his fingers along the line of Jones's jaw. “I didn't mean for you to get hurt.”
“Yeah, well, I'm used to it.” Jones pushed his hand away but relaxed back against him, trying to ease the pounding inside his skull. “How'd you send him away, and where?”
“I don't know. I just wanted him to go away before he killed you, and he went.”
“So he could be back any minute. We need to go. Help me up so I can go wash all this blood off.” He struggled to his feet with Andraeon's help and leaned heavily on him as they made their way down to the bathroom. They had just reached the doorway when his stomach twisted again and he was only just quick enough to fall onto his knees in front of the toilet before he threw up. For a few long minutes he just stayed down on his knees, bracing his arms on the toilet seat, his head hanging as he waited to see if his stomach would settle.
It finally did and he managed to put the lid down, then heaved himself up to sit on it. He waved a hand at Andraeon, grateful when the other man took the hint and brought him a washcloth and a bowl of warm water. He tried to wash his own face but his hands were shaking and he felt so dizzy he had to close his eyes to stop the room spinning around him. He felt Andraeon take the washcloth away from him and sat back to let him gently wipe the blood away.
By the time Andraeon was done he was feeling well enough to push himself up and get some aspirin from the medicine cabinet. He took them dry, studying himself in the mirror over the sink. His face was still a mess; bruised and swollen, and the bloody furrow across his temple stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. Dark shadows curved underneath his eyes and he absently noted that he needed another shave.
“I got some clean clothes for you,” he said, suddenly remembering. “They're probably out in the hall. Go get dressed.”
“I'll only be a moment.” Andraeon brushed a hand along his arm as he passed by and left the bathroom.
Jones sat back down on the toilet to wait for the aspirin to kick in, wishing he could go lie down and sleep for a while—or even better, drink until he could no longer feel anything. Instead he struggled back to his feet when Andraeon came back into the bathroom, gratefully accepting his shoulder to lean on as they made their way to his bedroom.
“I have a... safehouse we can go to. Just for tonight. I need to sleep.” It was a struggle just to find the energy to speak. “You'll have to help me.”
“Just tell me what to do.” Andraeon touched his cheek with two fingers then dropped his hand when Jones turned away. “What do we need?”
“The desk in the spare room. The top drawer has a false bottom. Go get the box out of it.” Jones waved him off and slumped back across the bed, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. The pounding in his head was finally beginning to ease but he could feel the heavy drag of exhaustion on his limbs. Even the act of breathing seemed like too much.
“I got it. Jones?”
“Yeah.” Jones pushed himself up again and took the box. He dumped it out on the bed and separated out a large thick envelope from the tangle of papers and small booklets. He shoveled the rest of the stuff back into the box and sent Andraeon to put it back in the desk, then got to his feet and carefully picked up his backpack to repack it with clean clothes and other essentials. The envelope he slipped into the front pocket and made sure to zip it securely.
He slung the pack over his shoulder and went out to meet Andraeon in the hallway. As they headed for the front door he half-expected another attack, but they made it without incident and the door opened to nothing but the empty street. He took a moment to look up and down the sidewalk, then led Andraeon out and down to the nearest bus stop. He let Andraeon get on first and took another look around before following, dropping fare for both of them in the box on the way by. They found a pair of empty seats and Jones dropped down gratefully, closing his eyes and listening with only half an ear to the automated voice calling out the stops.
He must have dozed, because the voice suddenly jumped ahead to announce they were pulling into the subway station. He groggily got up and made his way down the aisle to exit the bus, biting back a growl as someone tried to push past him. Andraeon caught hold of his arm, trailing him like a child afraid of getting lost, until they pushed through the crush of people on the platform and ducked into the building. Jones took a moment to orient himself and led the way down the stairs to the trains, where they got onto the train headed north.
“We're going to try and muddy up the trail a bit,” he muttered to Andraeon. “Just for a little and then I can sleep.”
“Don't take too long.” Andraeon offered a slightly nervous smile. “I don't think I can carry you.”
“You won't have to.” He took a casual glance around, aware that people were staring at him. Automatically he reached up to check that his nose and the gash across his temple hadn't started bleeding again; his nose was dry but his fingers came away from his forehead slightly damp. Balancing his pack against the nearest seat, he pulled an old bandana out of one of the pockets and wadded it up, pressing it against his temple.
He kept them on the train for a few more stops then led Andraeon off that one and onto a train headed east. They continued in as random a pattern as he could manage until the sky had darkened into dusk and he was nearly swaying on his feet. On the train that would take them to the safehouse, he managed to get a seat and leaned his head against the plastiglass wall separating the seats from the doors, vaguely aware of Andraeon standing over him protectively.
Their stop came just as he was drifting off again and he was nearly too slow to get out before the doors closed again. Andraeon reached in and grabbed him, yanking him away from the doors even as the warning tone was sounding. He stumbled and nearly knocked them both down, but caught his balance at the last moment. Andraeon looped an arm around his waist and they made their way slowly up into the humid night air. Leaning heavily on Andraeon, Jones muttered directions until they finally reached the safehouse's front door.
“Key's in my front pocket,” he managed, straightening up a little so Andraeon could get it out and unlock the door. He nearly tripped over the front stoop but managed to get inside without sprawling full-length on the floor. The safehouse was little more than a one-room apartment with a separate bathroom and kitchen, and it took only a few steps for him to reach the couch and collapse across it.
“Jones.” Andraeon cupped his face in both hands. “Look at me. Don't pass out just yet. Jones?”
Jones tried to answer him but his tongue felt too heavy to move. His eyes closed against his will and he spiraled into darkness with Andraeon's voice following him down.
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