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“Deep breaths. There you go, deep breaths,” Jack instructed, forcing himself to follow his own advice just to keep his hands steady enough.
Jesse was laying in his lap, face turned into Jack’s chest as he struggled to obey what Jack was telling him. His breathing could barely keep stead for a few seconds at a time, but Jack found that him talking seemed to help. Jesse was at least drawing instead breaths in general this way, it was okay if they came sporadically, as long as Jack’s instructions could keep him going.
“Is it out?” Jesse asked, voice weak and raw from tears and pain.
“Almost, I just need to get a few more pieces of rubble off,” Jack promised with a lie. “If I move too quickly it will come tumbling down on us again.”
Jesse nodded limply, and resumed focusing his whole attention on breathing.
Jack looked back to his task, and thanked god that he had been carrying one of his numbing shots on him. They were meant for the chronic pain he and Gabe felt caused by the effects of the SEP on their bodies. They weren’t fulfilling that purpose tonight, however, and even though Jack knew how much pain his body would be in afterwards, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because that shot working in Jesse’s system was the only one letting Jack keep up this little lie.
When he found Jesse after the air strike, he had still been unconscious. When he woke, Jack had held him, being sure he couldn’t look at what had happened, and he had lied saying his arm was trapped under too much rubble and Jack had to slowly remove it so that they didn’t end up buried under a landside of debris.
In reality, Jack reached Jesse, and the first thing he had seen was red.
He had been reminded immediately of just how young Jesse was because of how small he looked in the destruction around them. He was only nineteen, by their best estimates, considering they still had yet to find his proper documentation that was lost in the dependency system during the Crisis.
He was only nineteen, but he was bathed in his own blood that pooled under him at a dangerous rate. He was only nineteen, but his left arm was torn off a few inches above his elbow, lying a few feet away.
Jack had immediately administered the numbing medication, and held Jesse so that when he woke he wouldn’t see. He had lied, and instructed Jesse through his breathing just to make sure he didn't stop from the sheer amount of blood he was losing.
Jack followed his own advice and kept breathing, so that his shaking hands wouldn’t mess up as he carefully cut off bits of Jesse’s hanging flesh and muscle, to make the end of his arm cleaner with a higher chance for recovery and an easier place from a prosthesis to connect. He had to be careful of the nerves that would need to stay intact below the tourniquet or cauterization, they would be essential to the making of his prosthesis, if he were to want one.
“Almost finished,” Jack said, cutting off a piece. He wasn’t lying that time at least. He really was almost done, but he wasn’t sure how much the numbing shot could cover up this next part. Already Jack was sure it was starting to wear off with Jesse’s adrenaline and pure pain burning through it.
Jesse pressed closer to him, shaking slightly. Jack hated seeing him like this. He hated it more than anything in the world, but there was nothing he could do about it in that moment. He had to save Jesse, and if it meant scaring him then that was what he could do.
Jack pulled out the silver nitrate he had started keeping with his supplies after the White Dome. carefully applied it, and tried to stay a steady, comforting force as he burned the skin of Jesse’s remaining arm to close off the wound.
As he predicted, the numbing shot was nowhere near powerful enough to cover up something so intense, and as the scent of burning flesh and blood filled the air, so did Jesse’s screams.
Jack held him through it all, leaned over so he was surrounding Jesse as he strung out comforts and encouragements that Jesse was doing well with it. He held him, and let Jesse cling and cry, and do whatever he needed to to keep that arm still as it burned.
Then the burning finished, and Jack sat there still with his child’s blood soaking through his uniform and drying already in some places. Jesse’s scream reduced to weak sobs, and Jack rubbed his back, and brushed fingers through his hair with the gentlest care.
“We need to get to the drop ship,” Jack whispered after a few torturously long moments where Jesse didn't move at all. He gave no response, and Jack was sure the pain had finally taken him completely out of it. It might be a while until he got to hear his voice again, or see any kind of recognition or awareness in his eyes.
Slowly he rose from the ground, lifting Jesse with him. He held him in his arms so delicately, being sure that nothing would irritate his wound, and he could safely run. He was sure it would finally hit him on the ship, the full gravity of what had happened. There was a wall between him and reality at the moment, more like a two way mirror if he was honest. He could see through it, but it wouldn’t let him access those emotions just out of reach.
It was probably for the best. His dulled emotions let him focus on getting them back to the ship, instead of why Jesse wasn’t moving.
They were the only two on the ship besides the pilot. The longer they waited, with Jesse once again laying in Jack’s lap, and Jack’s comms pulled up showing no activity, the more it became apparent that they were the only ones left.
Six agents.
They had been on the mission with six other agents, who were now nowhere to be found. One lieutenant, a sergeant, and four privates. Jack knew all of their names by heart. He always did. They were the invisible scars he would be forced to carry for the rest of his life.
He had gone on the mission, bringing Jesse with him, because he believed there was no need for worry. It was just supposed to be a training mission. Something to get the new privates used to field work, and to get Jesse used to what Overwatch proper work looked like instead of the Blackwatch missions he was so used to.
There hadn’t been anything to tell Jack that this mission wouldn’t be the easiest assignment he had done in the past year. There had been nothing to warn them of the Talon air strike that would happen in the area, bringing everything down on them.
Six agents were gone, and Jack could feel the glass separating himself from reality starting to crack.
He wondered distantly what Ana would say when he got back. How mad would she be, that six agents had died under his care? How would Petras question his suitedness for his position?
How would Gabe react, when he saw their son? Would he ever be able to look at Jack again without remembering that he had failed to protect their child?
Jack looked down at Jesse as the ship shook with turbulence, and felt his heart in his throat. He couldn’t look away. From the tear tracks, from the blood stains, from the burned stump where his arm was supposed to be.
He braced himself to take the blame when it all came crashing down, and leaned his head back against the seat. Nothing but Jesse’s soft cries, and the smell of burnt flesh to occupy his thoughts.