Title: You Wake Up

Author: Uriel

Rating: umm... i don't know... PG or PG-13ish

Pairing: Jesse/Brennan

Disclaimer: i don't own them. seriously. there are so many better things i would be doing with them if i did...

Series: aftershocks 1

Notes: Emma speaks in these [ ]. Jesse is talking to himself. It made sense when i started writing it... sort of...


AFTERSHOCKS 1: YOU WAKE UP
by Uriel

You wake up and your whole body hurts. It's dark and you feel heavy. Heavier than you should. You breathe and try to adjust, but it hurts too much. You breathe and try to think. What just happened? Playback: Fire, falling ceiling, pain. Useless.

Go back further. Think harder. Come on, Jesse, think. You breathe and there's dust and it hurts, but you breathe. You were with Emma, and then the ceiling fell in. You had enough time to be heavier, but not enough time to help Emma.

[I'm fine, Jesse.]

She's fine, she says. Fine. Perfect. You're trapped, and there's dust, and it hurts, but she's just dandy.

[We're getting you out. You'll be ok.]

Yeah, you'll be just fine. They're coming. It hurts. A lot. More than you'd expected it to. Ceilings have fallen on you before, and it hasn't hurt this much before.

"Jesse? Can you hear me?"

He's here. He's come to rescue me, knight in shining armor. Or knight with shining lightning hands. Something. You're trying to be poetic, but you suck at poetry. And then you remember Emma's still here. Listening. Like always. Listening as you rhapsodize about beauty in tongue twisted idiotic phrases.

[You do this all the time when he's around. I don't mind.]

Gee, thanks. She doesn't mind that she knows all of your most intimate thoughts. It's just fine with her. You do it all the time anyway, why should this be any different?

"Jesse?"

"Brennan, I'm-" right down here and choking on dust. It hurts. A lot.

"Brennan, be careful." That's Shalimar. She's in mother bear mode, you can hear the edges of her voice growl.

"I am! Get off my back." He's panicked. He's panicked over you. Now you feel all tingly. Even though it's stupid. They're all panicked. Except Emma, who's just not sounding panicked because she knows it would freak you out.

[Jesse, I'm not panicked, because I know you'll be ok, not because I'm trying to not freak you out. I don't have that much control.]

She's probably right. Probably. You think. You hope. And then he's touching you, and his hands are so soft it makes you want to become part of his skin.

[See, that was poetic and not all tongue-tied. Silly boy.]

And now Emma's making fun of you. You're trapped underneath the ceiling, swooning over being touched by a boy, and Emma's making fun you. What a great day. Why did the ceiling fall down anyway?

[There was an earthquake. We think. Well, it's the theory right now. I don't think Adam really believes it. We aren't near any fault lines or anything.]

Your first earthquake and you weren't even close enough to get trapped with Brennan. Dammit.

[I'm sure if you could see my face right now, you would realize how wrong that sounds.]

She's right, but since you can't see her face, you don't have to think about that. Denial is fun.

You open your eyes, and blink because it's so bright all of a sudden. A shadow covers your vision and then clarifies. It's him. His spikey hair catches the light, making a dark halo for him. He's so beautiful.

"What did you just say?" He looks worried. Did you say that out loud? Did he hear you?

[Yes, you said that out loud. He thinks he misheard you.]

She's hesitating. You can feel it. She's holding something back. You stare up into his big brown eyes and mumble "Huh?" as confused and dazed as you can manage. He looks away and his arms around you, and you're so alive but it hurts so damn much. You cling desperately to him on instinct, and he stiffens. Not in a good way. But he pulls you up against him and drags you out of the rubble. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and pretend to be unconscious. It's so warm and soft... and then you really are unconscious.

***

You wake up and you're freezing. A deep aching cold. You whimper and open your eyes. The cold blue light floods your vision, and the clingy too-white sheets feel rough against your sore skin. Then he leans over you and his eyes are so soft and perfect and they make you're insides turn to Jell-O.

"How are you feeling?" His voice is soft and soothing and so gentle. It makes you want to hold him tight and have him whisper things in your ear until you die, because you know you'll never have a nightmare again if he does that.

"I'm cold." Is that your voice? You sound so weak. You sound like a kitten when it's hungry. Soft and kind of whiny. But then his hands cover yours, and he's rubbing them together and putting on his poor-baby smile that he always has when he's feeling sympathetic, so you stop caring what you sound like, because he's touching you, and he's so warm. You look into his eyes again, and you die because you're so happy, because those are his eyes looking at you.

He's closer. Is he leaning over? He's so close. You can feel his hot breath on your skin, and you can taste him in the air your breathing. And then his mouth is touching you. His mouth is touching your mouth. His tongue is on your lips. His tongue is on your tongue. His hands are pressing against the too-white sheets, and you wince as the rough fabric scrapes against your skin. His tongue is moving back. His lips are away. His body is away.

"I'm sorry." His voice is far away and he's running. He's gone, and I'm alone, but his warmth lingers on my skin like an after image of perfection, hanging on me as I lay under the cold blue light.


END