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The first sign that something was off was when Harry didn't answer the door. He summoned all four squad leaders and he now wouldn't open his office to them.
Thermite knew to expect some friction, he knew from Ash the way Harry very rarely shared information even if it was about important stuff, but deliberately ignoring them after he called this meeting was nonsensical. He shared a look with Hibana, who shrugged at him. Behind them, Caveira sighed in irritation before pushing Doc out of the way and brazenly opening the door.
"Did you call us?" Caveira strode into the office, while the other three trailed after her.
It was empty. No signs of Harry, except Thermite noticed the strewn paperwork and USB drive on the desk. He'd been working until recently, where was Harry now? They were debating whether to stay and wait, or go search for him, when the familiar sound of a helicopter's rotor blades got closer and closer, until it eclipsed everything else.
Thermite didn't even have time to feel uneasy about this unexpected arrival before it opened fire against the Stadium. They could only watch in stunned horror how the machine-gun bullets decimated the imposing structure and whoever was inside. Oh God, people were training in there, with simulation ammo and therefore completely defenseless.
He ran like never before, without thinking and barely seeing whatever was in his path, until he reached the Stadium. The helicopter was gone, just like it happened during Azami and Hibana's retelling of their mission, but Thermite didn't give a damn about where it was now.
The carnage inside the Stadium was overwhelming. The bullet marks and debris spread all around, the metallic stench of blood, and the cacophony of cries and panicked calling of people's names. Ash’s ever present cap was on the floor, in a puddle of blood, but Thermite barely registered what it most probably meant. He was walking towards the kneeling figure of Sledge, yet the closer he got the slower Thermite walked. He didn't want to know why the Scottish attacker was crying, a leaden ball of dread lodged in his throat as he glimpsed a human sized lump on the floor.
It was difficult to recognise the body as Thatcher, too disfigured and full of bullet holes to look like anyone. But Thermite knew. He grabbed a limp hand, sticky with blood, and noticed the watch on the wrist. It was the one Thermite gifted him last year, with the special message on the back, he was sure.
No. No, no, no. It couldn't be. Thermite fell to the floor, still clutching his partner's lifeless hand, unable to get any sound out except for a pitiful whimper. Someone shook him and called his name, but Thermite ignored it. Couldn't they see his world was breaking down? Even the ground was shaking, swaying from side to side. If an earthquake was about to fully collapse this ruin, Thermite didn't care.
"Jordan!"
He opened his eyes and sat up with a gasp, wildly looking around. The swaying motion wasn't an earthquake, but the gentle ebb and flow of the sea. He was in the Iron Maggie, and next to him was Thatcher. Thermite threw his arms around him, trapping the old man in a crushing hug.
"You're alive, oh god you're alive," Thermite sighed, still unsettled by the dream. The image of Thatcher's disfigured corpse haunted him.
Perhaps the dream was a very extreme scenario, but it wasn't impossible. Whoever was behind the attack on Azami's boss already tried to kill Hibana's group in a similar way. And if people like Pulse - it still hurt to even think about his name - had betrayed them once to join Nighthaven, what was stopping them from betraying Rainbow's secrets too? It made Thermite's blood boil in fury and fear, and he didn't notice he was hyperventilating until Thatcher started petting his back.
"Calm down, Jordan, it was only a nightmare. Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that."
Following Thatcher's indication, he took a few calming breaths while listening to the steady pace of Thatcher's heart. The undeniable proof that the images in his mind were only a nightmare, thank goodness. They were at sea, supposedly enjoying a small vacation to reduce the team leader's stress, according to Harry. In practice, they were just staring into the distance moodily and holding each other in somber silence. Truly a wonderful vacation.
Eventually, Thatcher broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Thermite held back a snort. He wanted to forget about it, or at least stop worrying for a few hours. He was pretty sure Thatcher would say the same if he asked the old man why he was still awake and clothed, instead of under the covers with him. While Thermite's worries bled into his dreams, robbing him of rest, Thatcher avoided sleep in favour of bitter ruminations under the moonlight. It sucked big time, and he missed those late nights where they kept each other awake just for the joy of being together, not because their troubles didn’t allow them to rest.
"How do you manage the sleepless nights, Mike? When it feels like you haven't slept properly in months"
"Drink. And coffee," Thatcher answered honestly. "Then I met you and both my days and nights were much better."
It made Thermite crack a smile, wan and fleeting but still a smile. "Not always, though."
Perhaps this was why most army regulations forbid relationships at work. It could drive you off your rocker with worry, when you knew the other person might not make it back home one day.
"No, but it is worth it." Thatcher whispered, kissing Thermite’s forehead.
In the middle of the night, hugging each other still, it felt peaceful at long last. Neither of them was in the mood to sleep, but the close contact chased away the gloomy and unpleasant thoughts.
Probably that was why, when they kissed again, the reassuring touches slowly turned more heated. After all, passion was the fastest way to forget worries and make each other feel better, at least for a while.