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om_mainJack has a nightmare and Steve finds out a little more about his time in the Facility.
Jack had never stopped having nightmares. They weren't as constant as when he'd first arrived at the school, but it was still fortunate that he didn't need as much sleep.
Having Steve around so much helped too. Usually Jack's nightmares were more manageable with someone else in his bed; the warm body and familiar scent was an anchor, helping him stay asleep, or at least meant there was someone there to wake him up before they could get too bad. Not that Jack was fond of the latter (he hated waking Steve up with his nightmares), but usually it was enough.
But Jack's nightmares were getting worse lately, even though Steve was staying over more often, and tonight's was one of the worst.
Only half awake, Jack was terrified down to his core, and he only knew one thing for sure: there were hands on him. He knew this, remembered this - when they'd turned on him, grabbed him and held him down, forced drugs on him - this was how it started, this was his only chance to get away--
With a strangled sound, he fought against the hands, pushed violently away from the other body, inadvertently throwing himself out of the bed in the process. He landed hard on his hip, but all he could think was that it was good, it was distance - now he needed a weapon, or it would happen again, all over again...
It was in the process of reaching for his gun, the one that he'd kept in the top drawer of his desk back at the Facility compound, that he started realizing this wasn't the right desk... or room... memories of the past year flooded over him, doing nothing to stop the pounding of his heart or the adrenaline blasting through his system, but bringing his mind out of the dream. He was on a different floor, reaching into a different desk (one without a gun); he slumped against the wood, closing his eyes and trying to force his breathing back to normal. It'd seemed so real...
"Jack!" Steve was saying, a panicked note having entered his voice. It hadn't been so unusual a night. He'd fallen asleep with Jack there and Jack had presumably done something - maybe just even lay there - until he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, there was an elbow into his stomach and a loud thump on the floor. Steve had glanced over blearily, wondering what was going on, but it didn't even look like the fall had woken him. He'd crawled over to Jack's side of the bed and started calling his name. The longer he called, the more worried he got.
It took a few seconds for Jack to register Steve's voice - he couldn't hear anything over the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears at first - and when he did, it sent a fresh chill down his spine. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to sound normal. "It's fine, everything's fine." Maybe Steve would be tired enough to believe him. "Go back to sleep."
Steve went slack-jawed at Jack's words. "Fine?" he said. There were things he might have let Jack get away with - like the fact that Jack knew about pretty much all of his drama and Steve only knew the Facility - but he wasn't about to let Jack get away with this.
"Do I need to remind you which of us can tell when someone is lying? Or do you think you can look me in the eye and make me believe that?"
Jack closed his eyes again, thumping his head heavily against the desk behind him. Seemed like he'd really woken Steve up - no smoothing it over then. "Sorry," he murmured, without opening his eyes. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Sounds like you didn't mean to wake yourself, either. Had a nightmare, huh?" And a hell of a nightmare it had been. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Jack shook his head. It was all too close still, like it might be real if he thought about it, if he conjured up the details. "Sorry," he repeated, wishing he hadn't woken Steve so thoroughly. This was his problem. Although... some of the details came back to him, and he looked towards the bed in concern. He'd thought someone was grabbing him. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Because my first reaction if you'd hurt me would be 'are you okay'," Steve said. Although, come to think about it, it probably would be. "I'm fine. And I'm not some helpless maiden." He shot Jack a look and just waited.
Jack only half heard him. He was looking at his hands now, realizing how bad they were shaking. Shit. As soon as he realized, he dropped one hand to the floor and ran the other through his hair, hoping Steve hadn't noticed. He needed to pull himself together, he couldn't be losing it like this...
Steve slowly slid off the bed, settling himself next to Jack. If Jack wasn't going to come to him, he was going to come to Jack. He reached out and grasped one of Jack's hands, sliding their fingers together.
They stayed like that for a few minutes as Jack pulled himself together, grounding himself in the touch. This was real. No one had been holding him down; Steve was here, alive, safe.
Finally Jack raised Steve's hand to his lips, letting his lips play over the knuckles in thanks. "I'm gonna go for a bit," he said quietly against Steve's skin. "I'll be back, I just..." I just need to get the hell out of the dark for a while.
Steve ran his knuckles over Jack's cheek. "Do you want company or do you need to be by yourself?" He placed a slight emphasis on the first. He didn't think what Jack needed was alone time. Not when he was as freaked out as he was. But if that's what he said he wanted, he wasn't going to argue.
Torn, Jack looked toward him, not quite up to eye contact yet. "You should get some sleep," he said, bypassing whether or not he wanted company. He did, terribly; much more than he was willing to admit to, especially when it meant asking Steve to compromise his own sleep even further.
Still, a shaky smile flickered over his lips. "...but if you want to come with, I won't say no."
"Tell that to Claudia when she and I are up late watching TV Land." Steve didn't mind missing a few hours of sleep if it meant that Jack had an easier time of it. And maybe he'd even find out what the nightmare had been about.
Jack didn't manage to make a remark about how appalled he was that he didn't get invited to these TV sessions. He took another deep breath, then made himself stand, forcing the weakness out of his legs. He'd been sleeping in a pair of boxers, so he put on a pair of pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, just headed for the door and paused there to wait for Steve.
Steve followed suit, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye as he got dressed enough to move around the rest of the mansion. He looked subdued and that was never a pleasant look on Jack. It was more a worrisome look. Jack was almost always upbeat and now he was just subdued. Definitely a reason to be concerned.
"Late night snack?" he suggested.
Nodding, Jack just opened the door and started them in that direction. His voice seemed to have left him; there was just nothing to say while bits of his nightmare kept coming back to him, especially the parts with Steve. He was tense and quiet all the way down to the kitchen, and even as he stepped through the doorway, he knew he wasn't actually hungry. He pulled up a chair at the table and sat down heavily. Steve could get something; Jack just needed to get control of his thoughts again, and this was as good a place as any to do that. Some light, some air, he'd be fine...
The middle of the night wasn't the time to make anything happy, so Steve just got a pot out and started warming up milk. He hopped on the counter and reached up to the top shelf where he'd stashed some Milano cookies. They were his favorite and, if he left them around, everyone else inevitably ended up eating them. He also grabbed some chocolate to stir into the warm milk. He put the cookies in front of Jack and then turned near the stove so he could watch the soon-to-be hot chocolate and Jack at the same time.
"Want to talk about it?"
Jack was staring at the package of cookies like they'd magically appeared from another universe. Honestly, that was how it felt; with his thoughts in such a dark place, how could something as normal as Milano cookies still exist?
Looking up at Steve, he managed a wry grin. "The secret Milano stash. I must really have you worried."
"You do," Steve said, deciding on the spot that he wasn't going to humor Jack's need to joke when things were serious. Not this time.
"It was just a nightmare," Jack replied quietly, attempting to sound reassuring. He didn't think it would actually get him anywhere, but it bought him some more time to figure out what to say. The only person he'd ever really told about his nightmares before was Pietro, and that was because he'd been there, seen it - had watched Jean-Paul nearly die, seen the girl with the horrible scar, knew why Jack had to shoot Laura...
With Steve, where would he even start?
Steve decided not to call Jack out on the lie. He obviously needed it. Steve just couldn't figure out why he needed it. Instead, he took a breath and turned to stir the milk. The silence was thick with the things that Jack wasn't telling and Steve wasn't asking. It reminded him of those nights after he'd first seen Jean-Paul again, when he'd doubted everything, including himself. And, like he'd told Cal, he couldn't tell Jack. But that time, he'd made damn sure that Jack hadn't known what was wrong. Now Steve knew that there was something wrong with Jack; he just wasn't sure how to ask. So he busied himself with pulling down two mugs and pouring them both cups of hot chocolate.
The silence was making Jack twitchy and uncomfortable, like he'd done something wrong on top of what was already going on in his head. He pulled a cookie out of the package, just for some noise to cover the silence, but he didn't really want it once he had it.
Steve was headed to the table with a pair of mugs (Jack was only vaguely surprised that Steve had made him something without even mentioning it, and despite himself, he smiled), but Jack stood up and intercepted him. "Rec room? We can see if there's anything good on TV at this hour."
Under Steve's nonplussed look, Jack took one of the mugs, looking away and doing an extremely poor job of hiding the guilt on his face. "I just... need to get out of my head for a little while," he added, voice losing any attempt at cheery banter.
"All right," Steve said after a minute. He turned and started walking toward the rec room. "You'll have to put up with me and TV Land, I think. That's the only thing to watch when it's this late." Not that it would be the television that Steve would be watching. Not really.
Jack breathed a laugh, because of course he didn't care. He dunked his Milano cookie into his hot chocolate, grabbed the bag, and followed Steve.
---
A little while later, things were better. Much better, as far as Jack was concerned. Between TV, hot chocolate, and the late hour, they'd both managed to unwind.
As soon as Jack had finished his hot chocolate, he'd stretched out on the couch, and was now quite contentedly laying with his head propped on a pillow and Steve half-draped on top of him. He was warm, relaxed, and distracted, and it was exactly what he needed.
Steve was half dozing while he and Jack watched whatever was on the television. A part of him was awake and alert to the tiniest change in Jack's demeanor. If there were any chance that Jack was going to talk, he wanted to be ready for it. But the other part of him was just letting the steady drone of the television and the warmth of Jack wash over him. He was comfortable and, hopefully, so was Jack and even if Jack never said what the dream had been about, at least they had this.
As the last program gave way to an infomercial, Jack carefully reached for the remote and muted the TV. He knew Steve wasn't totally asleep, could practically feel that he was still worried, but maybe that was for the best. Hell, maybe that was why he was gonna do this at all. For a moment, he just took in the quiet, the feeling of their breathing and the sense of safety he felt (even if his mind insisted it knew better).
Then, quietly, he started in on what he'd resolved to tell Steve. "Every time a dream goes bad, I wind up in the same place. It's like a twisted version of the Facility compound, except sometimes it's here, too; long hallways full of doors, and there's something horrible, some vivid, personal hell, waiting behind every one.
"And I know. I know what I'll find if I go in," he murmured, "but I still have to do it. There's someone I have to find - and besides, they're coming for me and the hallway isn't safe." Another deep breath, because at least the words were coming out, but it wasn't easy... "Sometimes I blend, with guards or with students, but it's only a matter of time before they turn on me, hold me down and..." He trailed off, frowning and leaning forward to place a kiss on Steve's hair, not sure how Steve was taking it.
"And what?" Steve asked softly after a minute, finally turning so he could look straight at Jack. He took one of Jack's hands and twined their fingers together, running his thumb over the back of Jack's hand. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question, but he thought he should listen to it anyway. Especially if Jack wanted to tell him.
"Drug me," Jack told him. "Put me back in the cell. Force experiments on me. They'll make me disappear into one of those rooms again." He looked away, toward the silent TV. "And it'll be worse now, because they know about the ability they triggered. They don't even have to be careful with me. And the woman I worked for is there, telling me how glad she is that I led them to the school, what they're doing to each and every mutant, thanking me." Jack paused, disgusted because it wasn't even that inaccurate. It was exactly the kind of narrative Sally would have for him. "Even when I escape, it always ends the same way."
"You got out of there, Jack," Steve said, thinking back over his conversation with Harley. "When you realized what they were doing, you got out along with the girls from here. And if they want you back, they're going to have to come through me first. Remember, I can see through all the pretty lies." He cupped Jack's cheek with his free hand and held the look, making sure that Jack knew he was dead serious. He was just beginning to realize what that place had done to the people here and not even to the ones they'd kidnapped.
The hand that had been idly tracing patterns on Steve's back stilled. "You're joking, right?" asked Jack, voice a little distant. "No matter what they do to me, I'll get up again. You won't. Believe me, that's a recurring theme in this dream." He huffed a sigh. "And I didn't get out. Not really. I... remember when I told you that they triggered the other side of my mutation?"
Steve frowned at the idea both that Jack would get up again - that had to be torture - and the fact that he didn't think he'd got out. But he wanted to hear where Jack was going with this first. "Yeah," he said slowly.
"They didn't know it. I tried to escape, but... well, three bullets to the chest later, I woke up in an incinerator," Jack said, downplaying it with a small, wry smile. He wasn't looking for pity, he didn't want to freak Steve out - he just needed him to know. "I got out from there, and stuck around to sabotage them. I followed the Xavier team in when they arrived."
Steve felt sick. He closed his eyes and all he could see was the image of Jack burning. Even Jack probably wouldn't survive that. Not forever. But in the time it would have taken... He gulped in air and snapped his eyes open. "You were...you were working for them, right? Why would they turn on you like that?"
"Because when my pheromone ability burned out, I wanted to stop the experiments." Jack was watching Steve carefully now, and feeling the tension in his body. He frowned and looked away, running his hand up Steve's back apologetically. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all.
Steve just nodded as if it was what he'd expected all along. And it was. Jack was a good man and it was one of the many reasons Steve was falling for him. "I don't actually know a lot about what happened, you know. You're the only one who's told me anything specific." He'd wanted to know, of course, but after hearing the blame that Harley had, Steve had wanted to wait to hear it all from Jack and so he hadn't gone searching.
He put a little pressure on Jack's face and turned his head back. "But whatever you tell me, it's not going to change how I feel." Or if it did, it would only be for the better.
For a moment, Jack just looked at him, noticing the way the flickering TV-light moved over those serious features. Earnest, that was the word. He meant what he said. Jack owed him the truth. The whole, awful story of what had happened that night when the Xavier team came in, the role he'd played in it all, and the promises he'd made to this place.
But it was late, and dark, and they'd been through enough tonight.
"Ask me tomorrow," Jack said, closing his eyes and leaning forward to press his forehead against Steve's. "I'll tell you everything. But I think that's all I've got in me tonight." Who knew talking could be so exhausting? And if it was hard for him to say it, then it must be hard for Steve to deal with it (...and maybe it was just easier to be concerned about Steve for the moment). "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Steve promised and then, because he was there and he knew that Jack probably needed it, he leaned forward and pressed his lips in a soft kiss against Jack's mouth.
Jack kissed him back, then mumbled against his lips, "No you're not." How could he be, after that? Still, he kissed Steve again before he could reply. He was safe here; they were both safe. Jack just wanted Steve to know that he wasn't buying that line, no matter how much he appreciated it.
Except Steve was because he wasn't concerned about himself. It was Jack that worried him now. There were smaller parts of him that felt different things. Anger at the people who had used Jack like this, annoyance at the people who judged him without knowing even some of the things he'd heard tonight. There was another, larger part that he didn't really think he could put a name to, not yet, but it made him feel more warm and comfortable than lying here with Jack. But for the most part, the parts that weren't worry equaled 'fine'.
"Ready to go back to bed?" he asked. "Or do you just want to doze here?"
"Come here," Jack murmured, pulling Steve more or less into his lap. He didn't want to move yet, wanted to stay in this moment of relief and exhaustion a little longer. He ran his hands from Steve's elbows down to lace their fingers together, looking at him with something akin to amazement, then smirked. "Why are you so good to me?"
"You're good for me," Steve said softly. He lifted their joined hands and kissed Jack's knuckles. Sometimes, he had to admit, Jack wanted to bang his head against a wall, but that was far outweighed by all of the rest of the times.
"That seems unlikely," Jack replied dryly, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.
"Maybe," Steve said with a little shrug. "But it's true."
Jack shook his head, then tugged Steve down by their joined hands for another kiss. Some things there just weren't words for.
Jack had never stopped having nightmares. They weren't as constant as when he'd first arrived at the school, but it was still fortunate that he didn't need as much sleep.
Having Steve around so much helped too. Usually Jack's nightmares were more manageable with someone else in his bed; the warm body and familiar scent was an anchor, helping him stay asleep, or at least meant there was someone there to wake him up before they could get too bad. Not that Jack was fond of the latter (he hated waking Steve up with his nightmares), but usually it was enough.
But Jack's nightmares were getting worse lately, even though Steve was staying over more often, and tonight's was one of the worst.
Only half awake, Jack was terrified down to his core, and he only knew one thing for sure: there were hands on him. He knew this, remembered this - when they'd turned on him, grabbed him and held him down, forced drugs on him - this was how it started, this was his only chance to get away--
With a strangled sound, he fought against the hands, pushed violently away from the other body, inadvertently throwing himself out of the bed in the process. He landed hard on his hip, but all he could think was that it was good, it was distance - now he needed a weapon, or it would happen again, all over again...
It was in the process of reaching for his gun, the one that he'd kept in the top drawer of his desk back at the Facility compound, that he started realizing this wasn't the right desk... or room... memories of the past year flooded over him, doing nothing to stop the pounding of his heart or the adrenaline blasting through his system, but bringing his mind out of the dream. He was on a different floor, reaching into a different desk (one without a gun); he slumped against the wood, closing his eyes and trying to force his breathing back to normal. It'd seemed so real...
"Jack!" Steve was saying, a panicked note having entered his voice. It hadn't been so unusual a night. He'd fallen asleep with Jack there and Jack had presumably done something - maybe just even lay there - until he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, there was an elbow into his stomach and a loud thump on the floor. Steve had glanced over blearily, wondering what was going on, but it didn't even look like the fall had woken him. He'd crawled over to Jack's side of the bed and started calling his name. The longer he called, the more worried he got.
It took a few seconds for Jack to register Steve's voice - he couldn't hear anything over the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears at first - and when he did, it sent a fresh chill down his spine. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to sound normal. "It's fine, everything's fine." Maybe Steve would be tired enough to believe him. "Go back to sleep."
Steve went slack-jawed at Jack's words. "Fine?" he said. There were things he might have let Jack get away with - like the fact that Jack knew about pretty much all of his drama and Steve only knew the Facility - but he wasn't about to let Jack get away with this.
"Do I need to remind you which of us can tell when someone is lying? Or do you think you can look me in the eye and make me believe that?"
Jack closed his eyes again, thumping his head heavily against the desk behind him. Seemed like he'd really woken Steve up - no smoothing it over then. "Sorry," he murmured, without opening his eyes. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"Sounds like you didn't mean to wake yourself, either. Had a nightmare, huh?" And a hell of a nightmare it had been. "Anything you want to talk about?"
Jack shook his head. It was all too close still, like it might be real if he thought about it, if he conjured up the details. "Sorry," he repeated, wishing he hadn't woken Steve so thoroughly. This was his problem. Although... some of the details came back to him, and he looked towards the bed in concern. He'd thought someone was grabbing him. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Because my first reaction if you'd hurt me would be 'are you okay'," Steve said. Although, come to think about it, it probably would be. "I'm fine. And I'm not some helpless maiden." He shot Jack a look and just waited.
Jack only half heard him. He was looking at his hands now, realizing how bad they were shaking. Shit. As soon as he realized, he dropped one hand to the floor and ran the other through his hair, hoping Steve hadn't noticed. He needed to pull himself together, he couldn't be losing it like this...
Steve slowly slid off the bed, settling himself next to Jack. If Jack wasn't going to come to him, he was going to come to Jack. He reached out and grasped one of Jack's hands, sliding their fingers together.
They stayed like that for a few minutes as Jack pulled himself together, grounding himself in the touch. This was real. No one had been holding him down; Steve was here, alive, safe.
Finally Jack raised Steve's hand to his lips, letting his lips play over the knuckles in thanks. "I'm gonna go for a bit," he said quietly against Steve's skin. "I'll be back, I just..." I just need to get the hell out of the dark for a while.
Steve ran his knuckles over Jack's cheek. "Do you want company or do you need to be by yourself?" He placed a slight emphasis on the first. He didn't think what Jack needed was alone time. Not when he was as freaked out as he was. But if that's what he said he wanted, he wasn't going to argue.
Torn, Jack looked toward him, not quite up to eye contact yet. "You should get some sleep," he said, bypassing whether or not he wanted company. He did, terribly; much more than he was willing to admit to, especially when it meant asking Steve to compromise his own sleep even further.
Still, a shaky smile flickered over his lips. "...but if you want to come with, I won't say no."
"Tell that to Claudia when she and I are up late watching TV Land." Steve didn't mind missing a few hours of sleep if it meant that Jack had an easier time of it. And maybe he'd even find out what the nightmare had been about.
Jack didn't manage to make a remark about how appalled he was that he didn't get invited to these TV sessions. He took another deep breath, then made himself stand, forcing the weakness out of his legs. He'd been sleeping in a pair of boxers, so he put on a pair of pajama pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, just headed for the door and paused there to wait for Steve.
Steve followed suit, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye as he got dressed enough to move around the rest of the mansion. He looked subdued and that was never a pleasant look on Jack. It was more a worrisome look. Jack was almost always upbeat and now he was just subdued. Definitely a reason to be concerned.
"Late night snack?" he suggested.
Nodding, Jack just opened the door and started them in that direction. His voice seemed to have left him; there was just nothing to say while bits of his nightmare kept coming back to him, especially the parts with Steve. He was tense and quiet all the way down to the kitchen, and even as he stepped through the doorway, he knew he wasn't actually hungry. He pulled up a chair at the table and sat down heavily. Steve could get something; Jack just needed to get control of his thoughts again, and this was as good a place as any to do that. Some light, some air, he'd be fine...
The middle of the night wasn't the time to make anything happy, so Steve just got a pot out and started warming up milk. He hopped on the counter and reached up to the top shelf where he'd stashed some Milano cookies. They were his favorite and, if he left them around, everyone else inevitably ended up eating them. He also grabbed some chocolate to stir into the warm milk. He put the cookies in front of Jack and then turned near the stove so he could watch the soon-to-be hot chocolate and Jack at the same time.
"Want to talk about it?"
Jack was staring at the package of cookies like they'd magically appeared from another universe. Honestly, that was how it felt; with his thoughts in such a dark place, how could something as normal as Milano cookies still exist?
Looking up at Steve, he managed a wry grin. "The secret Milano stash. I must really have you worried."
"You do," Steve said, deciding on the spot that he wasn't going to humor Jack's need to joke when things were serious. Not this time.
"It was just a nightmare," Jack replied quietly, attempting to sound reassuring. He didn't think it would actually get him anywhere, but it bought him some more time to figure out what to say. The only person he'd ever really told about his nightmares before was Pietro, and that was because he'd been there, seen it - had watched Jean-Paul nearly die, seen the girl with the horrible scar, knew why Jack had to shoot Laura...
With Steve, where would he even start?
Steve decided not to call Jack out on the lie. He obviously needed it. Steve just couldn't figure out why he needed it. Instead, he took a breath and turned to stir the milk. The silence was thick with the things that Jack wasn't telling and Steve wasn't asking. It reminded him of those nights after he'd first seen Jean-Paul again, when he'd doubted everything, including himself. And, like he'd told Cal, he couldn't tell Jack. But that time, he'd made damn sure that Jack hadn't known what was wrong. Now Steve knew that there was something wrong with Jack; he just wasn't sure how to ask. So he busied himself with pulling down two mugs and pouring them both cups of hot chocolate.
The silence was making Jack twitchy and uncomfortable, like he'd done something wrong on top of what was already going on in his head. He pulled a cookie out of the package, just for some noise to cover the silence, but he didn't really want it once he had it.
Steve was headed to the table with a pair of mugs (Jack was only vaguely surprised that Steve had made him something without even mentioning it, and despite himself, he smiled), but Jack stood up and intercepted him. "Rec room? We can see if there's anything good on TV at this hour."
Under Steve's nonplussed look, Jack took one of the mugs, looking away and doing an extremely poor job of hiding the guilt on his face. "I just... need to get out of my head for a little while," he added, voice losing any attempt at cheery banter.
"All right," Steve said after a minute. He turned and started walking toward the rec room. "You'll have to put up with me and TV Land, I think. That's the only thing to watch when it's this late." Not that it would be the television that Steve would be watching. Not really.
Jack breathed a laugh, because of course he didn't care. He dunked his Milano cookie into his hot chocolate, grabbed the bag, and followed Steve.
---
A little while later, things were better. Much better, as far as Jack was concerned. Between TV, hot chocolate, and the late hour, they'd both managed to unwind.
As soon as Jack had finished his hot chocolate, he'd stretched out on the couch, and was now quite contentedly laying with his head propped on a pillow and Steve half-draped on top of him. He was warm, relaxed, and distracted, and it was exactly what he needed.
Steve was half dozing while he and Jack watched whatever was on the television. A part of him was awake and alert to the tiniest change in Jack's demeanor. If there were any chance that Jack was going to talk, he wanted to be ready for it. But the other part of him was just letting the steady drone of the television and the warmth of Jack wash over him. He was comfortable and, hopefully, so was Jack and even if Jack never said what the dream had been about, at least they had this.
As the last program gave way to an infomercial, Jack carefully reached for the remote and muted the TV. He knew Steve wasn't totally asleep, could practically feel that he was still worried, but maybe that was for the best. Hell, maybe that was why he was gonna do this at all. For a moment, he just took in the quiet, the feeling of their breathing and the sense of safety he felt (even if his mind insisted it knew better).
Then, quietly, he started in on what he'd resolved to tell Steve. "Every time a dream goes bad, I wind up in the same place. It's like a twisted version of the Facility compound, except sometimes it's here, too; long hallways full of doors, and there's something horrible, some vivid, personal hell, waiting behind every one.
"And I know. I know what I'll find if I go in," he murmured, "but I still have to do it. There's someone I have to find - and besides, they're coming for me and the hallway isn't safe." Another deep breath, because at least the words were coming out, but it wasn't easy... "Sometimes I blend, with guards or with students, but it's only a matter of time before they turn on me, hold me down and..." He trailed off, frowning and leaning forward to place a kiss on Steve's hair, not sure how Steve was taking it.
"And what?" Steve asked softly after a minute, finally turning so he could look straight at Jack. He took one of Jack's hands and twined their fingers together, running his thumb over the back of Jack's hand. He wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question, but he thought he should listen to it anyway. Especially if Jack wanted to tell him.
"Drug me," Jack told him. "Put me back in the cell. Force experiments on me. They'll make me disappear into one of those rooms again." He looked away, toward the silent TV. "And it'll be worse now, because they know about the ability they triggered. They don't even have to be careful with me. And the woman I worked for is there, telling me how glad she is that I led them to the school, what they're doing to each and every mutant, thanking me." Jack paused, disgusted because it wasn't even that inaccurate. It was exactly the kind of narrative Sally would have for him. "Even when I escape, it always ends the same way."
"You got out of there, Jack," Steve said, thinking back over his conversation with Harley. "When you realized what they were doing, you got out along with the girls from here. And if they want you back, they're going to have to come through me first. Remember, I can see through all the pretty lies." He cupped Jack's cheek with his free hand and held the look, making sure that Jack knew he was dead serious. He was just beginning to realize what that place had done to the people here and not even to the ones they'd kidnapped.
The hand that had been idly tracing patterns on Steve's back stilled. "You're joking, right?" asked Jack, voice a little distant. "No matter what they do to me, I'll get up again. You won't. Believe me, that's a recurring theme in this dream." He huffed a sigh. "And I didn't get out. Not really. I... remember when I told you that they triggered the other side of my mutation?"
Steve frowned at the idea both that Jack would get up again - that had to be torture - and the fact that he didn't think he'd got out. But he wanted to hear where Jack was going with this first. "Yeah," he said slowly.
"They didn't know it. I tried to escape, but... well, three bullets to the chest later, I woke up in an incinerator," Jack said, downplaying it with a small, wry smile. He wasn't looking for pity, he didn't want to freak Steve out - he just needed him to know. "I got out from there, and stuck around to sabotage them. I followed the Xavier team in when they arrived."
Steve felt sick. He closed his eyes and all he could see was the image of Jack burning. Even Jack probably wouldn't survive that. Not forever. But in the time it would have taken... He gulped in air and snapped his eyes open. "You were...you were working for them, right? Why would they turn on you like that?"
"Because when my pheromone ability burned out, I wanted to stop the experiments." Jack was watching Steve carefully now, and feeling the tension in his body. He frowned and looked away, running his hand up Steve's back apologetically. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all.
Steve just nodded as if it was what he'd expected all along. And it was. Jack was a good man and it was one of the many reasons Steve was falling for him. "I don't actually know a lot about what happened, you know. You're the only one who's told me anything specific." He'd wanted to know, of course, but after hearing the blame that Harley had, Steve had wanted to wait to hear it all from Jack and so he hadn't gone searching.
He put a little pressure on Jack's face and turned his head back. "But whatever you tell me, it's not going to change how I feel." Or if it did, it would only be for the better.
For a moment, Jack just looked at him, noticing the way the flickering TV-light moved over those serious features. Earnest, that was the word. He meant what he said. Jack owed him the truth. The whole, awful story of what had happened that night when the Xavier team came in, the role he'd played in it all, and the promises he'd made to this place.
But it was late, and dark, and they'd been through enough tonight.
"Ask me tomorrow," Jack said, closing his eyes and leaning forward to press his forehead against Steve's. "I'll tell you everything. But I think that's all I've got in me tonight." Who knew talking could be so exhausting? And if it was hard for him to say it, then it must be hard for Steve to deal with it (...and maybe it was just easier to be concerned about Steve for the moment). "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Steve promised and then, because he was there and he knew that Jack probably needed it, he leaned forward and pressed his lips in a soft kiss against Jack's mouth.
Jack kissed him back, then mumbled against his lips, "No you're not." How could he be, after that? Still, he kissed Steve again before he could reply. He was safe here; they were both safe. Jack just wanted Steve to know that he wasn't buying that line, no matter how much he appreciated it.
Except Steve was because he wasn't concerned about himself. It was Jack that worried him now. There were smaller parts of him that felt different things. Anger at the people who had used Jack like this, annoyance at the people who judged him without knowing even some of the things he'd heard tonight. There was another, larger part that he didn't really think he could put a name to, not yet, but it made him feel more warm and comfortable than lying here with Jack. But for the most part, the parts that weren't worry equaled 'fine'.
"Ready to go back to bed?" he asked. "Or do you just want to doze here?"
"Come here," Jack murmured, pulling Steve more or less into his lap. He didn't want to move yet, wanted to stay in this moment of relief and exhaustion a little longer. He ran his hands from Steve's elbows down to lace their fingers together, looking at him with something akin to amazement, then smirked. "Why are you so good to me?"
"You're good for me," Steve said softly. He lifted their joined hands and kissed Jack's knuckles. Sometimes, he had to admit, Jack wanted to bang his head against a wall, but that was far outweighed by all of the rest of the times.
"That seems unlikely," Jack replied dryly, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him.
"Maybe," Steve said with a little shrug. "But it's true."
Jack shook his head, then tugged Steve down by their joined hands for another kiss. Some things there just weren't words for.
