Jones woke from dark confused dreams and spent a moment just lying in bed, wondering why there were ducks wearing rubber boots in the border on the wallpaper. He turned his head to look around the room, gradually coming to the realization that he wasn’t in any room he could consider his own. His head was pounding and his last clear memory was of trying to stare down the Kingsblack, though he wasn’t sure if that had actually happened or if he had just dreamed it.
He swung his feet out of bed and sat up, and memory hit him like a sledgehammer. He doubled over as though it had been a physical blow that knocked all the breath out of his lungs, clutching at his head with both hands. It was a struggle to get his breath back and he could only manage it in uneven sobs, though there were no tears. He stayed that way for nearly a full five minutes before he regained enough control of himself to sit up straight again.
The house was quiet as he pushed himself out of bed and went to have a shower, standing with his face turned into the hot needle spray for a long time. He felt no more refreshed when he got out of the shower again and after pulling on some clean clothes, he just sat on the bed, feeling listless and numb. The house started to wake up around him and he heard someone go downstairs, yawning loudly. It was such a normal sound that for a moment he almost thought he was still asleep and dreaming.
“Daddy?” Emily peeked around his bedroom door.
He roused himself enough to muster something of a smile for her, though it felt stiff on his face. She came into the room and climbed up onto the bed beside him, snuggling in against his side. He stroked her soft hair, absently thinking that she needed a haircut and some new clothes.
“Andy’s sad too,” Emily said after a few moments of silence, looking up at him. “His mommy’s with my mommy, right?”
“Right,” he said absently.
“I told him he can come live with us. When can we go home?”
“I don’t know, Em. Soon.”
“How soon?”
“Soon,” he said, sharper than he’d intended. He saw her eyes narrow and she sat up straighter, no longer leaning against his side. He braced himself for another—and probably deserved—temper tantrum but she only sat quietly for a few minutes then pushed herself off the bed.
“I’m going to colour,” she said haughtily, mimicking him clearly enough that even he could see it. “You can come when you’re done sulking.” She swept out of the room with all the grace a six-year-old could muster, leaving him unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He scrubbed both hands back through his damp hair then got up and followed her into the bedroom she shared with Andy.
He spent most of the morning colouring with Emily and Andy, or at least occasionally scribbling on the paper with a crayon when Emily demanded that he do so. Andy didn’t even try; he just curled up against Jones’s leg, twisting his fingers in Jones’s sweatpants, and listlessly watched Emily motor through a colouring book.
Kaede, Shiki, and Shasta all took their turns checking on them, but it was Shasta who finally brought them lunch and refused to leave until Jones ate his sandwich. Too tired to argue, Jones ate it without tasting it, trying to encourage Andy to follow his lead. Andy just looked at him, then pushed the plate away and buried his face against Jones’s thigh.
“Poor kid,” Shasta said, reaching across Jones to stroke Andy’s hair. “Jones, what are you planning?”
“Who the fuck says I’m planning anything?”
“Hey, watch your language, there’s kids in the room.” Shasta glanced at Emily, who was ignoring them completely. “Shiki thinks you’re going to go do something stupid.”
“All I want to do is go home. Try to put my life back together and give these kids a life.”
“Aloria’s still out there. I know my aunt; she doesn’t stop until the job is done. So you have to stay here.”
“I don’t have to do anything, Shasta. You haven’t exactly got a great track record in taking on your aunt either. I’d rather take my chances.”
“That’s stupid and you know it. You against Aloria, alone, with two little kids to protect? I promise your balls won’t shrink and fall off if you ask for help.”
“What was that about language?” Jones asked, fighting off an urge to hit him. After a moment the anger faded away again.
“My point still stands. Let us help you, Jonesy.” Shasta gave his shoulder a squeeze, but dropped his hand with a sigh when Jones shrugged him off. “Well, think about it anyway. I really don’t want Aloria taking your pretty little head off.”
He got to his feet and headed out of the room, leaving Jones looking after him with a bemused expression. After a moment Jones shook his head and turned his scattered attention back to Emily and Andy, absently settling his hand gently on Andy’s head. The rest of the day ticked by slowly, until Kaede ordered them to come down for dinner.
They ate in an uncomfortable silence that even Shasta couldn’t break, and Jones got up as soon as he’d finished a few mouthfuls. He ignored Shasta’s protests that he’d barely eaten anything and swung Andy up into one arm, taking Emily’s hand with his other. He took them upstairs to get ready for bed, patiently herding Emily through her bath, doing her teeth, getting changed into her PJs, and getting into bed. Andy trailed them through it all like a lost puppy, holding onto the hem of Jones’s shirt every chance he got. It was dark by the time they were both settled in bed, curled up in each other’s arms; Andy closed his eyes immediately but Emily studied Jones intently, her dark eyebrows drawn down in a flat V over blue-grey eyes just like his own.
“What is it, Em?” he asked.
“Can you stay for a bit, Daddy? Please?”
“Sure,” he said, biting back a sigh. “I’ll stay right here.” He settled down on the floor with his back against the bed. “Night. Sleep well.”
He listened as her breathing gradually deepened, and slid down until he could lean his head back against the bed behind him. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift, just meaning to rest for a few minutes before he got up and went to his own bedroom. When he opened his eyes again, the moon was up, laying a band of silver across the thick blue carpet, and Elle was sitting on the beanbag chair across from him, watching him with a small, amused smile on her face.
He was on his feet and lunging at her before he even fully came awake and definitely before he thought about what he was doing. His fingertips brushed the pale skin of her throat, then she hit him so hard in the stomach that he fell to his knees and had to fight not to throw up or pass out.
“Don’t do that again,” she said mildly. “I don’t take well to being attacked.”
“You gave Drae my guns,” he said when he could speak again.
“Good job, Jonesy, you can add two and two together.”
“You bitch. You set him up to be killed.” Jones swallowed hard. “Why? What was the point? Just to get him out of your way?”
“Please, that’s an amateur reason. Besides, I could’ve killed him myself if I just wanted to get rid of him.”
“Then why?”
“Because some things need to be done, Jonesy.” She patted his head. “You’ll see.”
“Go fuck yourself.” He smacked her hand away and got to his feet with an effort, putting some distance between them by stepping back. “Get out. Whatever you wanted, it’s done. You won. Leave me alone.”
“Nobody’s won. Or lost.” She heaved a sigh. “Well, I can see there’s no talking to you right now. Give Shasta my love.” She blew him a kiss and disappeared, leaving behind only a slight indent in the beanbag chair where she’d been sitting.
He swore again, managing to keep it quiet to avoid waking up Emily and Andy, but it wasn’t nearly enough to help ease the rage and pain tightening his chest and throat. He left the bedroom as quietly as he could and went straight downstairs, glad to see that Kaede and Shiki were watching TV in the living room and Shasta was nowhere in sight. He walked quietly into the kitchen and took out the bottle of vodka he’d seen in the freezer, half-hidden under a pile of freezer-burnt steaks. Tucking it under his arm, he left by the back door and headed for the back gate so he could drink in the peace of the big grass field that bordered Kaede’s backyard.
He’d just found a spot to settle down, hidden from view by a slight rise in the ground, when Shasta said, “Really think that’s a good idea?”
Jones tensed but just glanced over his shoulder, studying Shasta in the moonlight. “I’m a big boy.”
“You’re an idiot,” Shasta snorted. “An idiot and a drunk.”
“Go away, Shasta.” Jones sat down in the grass and made himself comfortable, twisting off the cap on the bottle of vodka and taking a swig of the cold liquid. He could see Shasta visibly trying to decide what to do, then he sat down opposite Jones and held out a hand.
“Share then. We can get drunk together.” He caught Jones’s gaze and held it, mismatched eyes calm and steady.
Silently Jones poured some into the bottle’s cap and handed that over, surprising himself by almost laughing at the look on Shasta’s face. After a moment Shasta took the cap, saluted him with it, and swallowed the mouthful of vodka, offering the cap back for a refill. Jones took a large swallow straight from the bottle before slopping more into the cap, feeling the alcohol burn down into his belly. They continued like that until the bottle was half-empty and Jones was feeling relaxed enough to just pass the whole thing over for Shasta to drink.
Shasta took it and hesitated a moment, then just drank and passed the bottle back. Jones saluted him with it and drank again, gradually sinking back in the grass as the vodka took effect and began to drown out everything but itself. This time when he passed the bottle to Shasta, Shasta didn’t hand it back after drinking, instead setting it carefully down in the grass beside him.
“Fuck off,” Jones told him.
“Maybe later. You’ve probably had enough. I’ve probably had enough. I don’t even really like drinking. Total lightweight.” Shasta pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. “See what I mean?”
“That’s kind of pathetic but I don’t really care. Give the bottle back and go away.”
“Man, you’re a pissy drunk. You want it, come and fucking get it. It’s going back in with me.” Shasta snagged the neck of the bottle and got to his feet, heading for the gate into the backyard with it swinging below his fist.
Jones scrambled to his feet and lunged after him, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him backwards. He tried to grab the bottle with his other hand but Shasta tripped him up and they both went down. Shasta lost his grip on the bottle as they fell and it flew out of his hand, landing on its side in the grass and spilling vodka. Pissed off now, Jones tried to shove himself away from Shasta to go rescue it, but Shasta wrapped both arms around his waist and dragged him down again. They wrestled in the grass, both struggling to gain the upper hand, until Jones managed to pin Shasta under him and found to his surprise that Shasta was laughing. Confused and having trouble thinking through the vodka haze inside his head, Jones only stared at him, frowning a little.
Before Jones could arrange his scattered thoughts, Shasta pushed himself up, slid a hand across the back of Jones’s neck, and kissed him, lightly at first and then more firmly when Jones didn’t resist. Jones found his mouth opening under Shasta’s tongue and moving almost on autopilot, he slid his hands under Shasta’s shirt, pushing it up. Shasta leaned back enough to pull his shirt over his head and Jones glanced down at something that fell back against Shasta’s bare chest. Reaching out, Jones gently slid his fingers under the dog tag and raised it enough to read his own name stamped on the thin metal.
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