Chapter Text
“Alex…? Alex?!”
Jay more heard than felt the loud bang of a gunshot as the bullet pierced his side, causing him to stagger back slightly, nearly dropping his camera. Alex had shot him. He’d actually shot him. For barely a second, Jay saw something on Alex’s face flicker—something that made him look like the friend he had known so well in college. The anger and resentment he had been wearing like a mask had slipped from his expression, revealing guilt, regret and…longing? As if he wanted so badly for the scene in front of him to change. Like he wished more than anything for his finger to not be the thing that had pulled the trigger on his best friend. Jay almost wanted to talk to him. To beg him for help? To ask why he did it? He wasn’t sure.
And then the pain started.
Shooting, piercing, searing, pain spreading out in his side like tendrils, tightening their hold on his lungs as he struggled to gasp for air. He turned on his heel and stumbled away from Alex, practically throwing himself into the nearest room, pressing his free hand to his side as he did so. He braced his shoulder against the nearest wall, leaning heavily against it as he struggled already to keep his eyes open. His vision dimmed briefly before it came back in vibrant colors dancing across his retinas, stemming from the pain that accompanied him sliding down the wall. He hadn’t even noticed his knees buckling until he was slumped on the floor, his camera tumbling from his hand and landing just out of his reach.
His body shook as he tried to suck in air through his mouth, pathetic sounds escaping his lips as he bit down on them, trying to stay quiet. He didn’t understand why Alex didn’t follow him. He didn’t have the energy to cover his tracks, he would’ve been easy to find. Maybe Alex thought he wasn’t worth the trouble, knowing he would bleed out soon anyway. Part of Jay almost wished Alex had followed him. That small pitiful part of him that didn’t want to die alone, even if the only company he could have was that of the man who shot him.
Would his body even be found? Would any one know what happened to him? He’s seen the way that thing takes the bodies of those Alex had killed and the only proof of Jay’s existence was his camera. His footage from the day would likely die with him and the only one who would know what really happened was Alex. He had pushed Tim away, the only person he still had—he wouldn’t come back for him. He wouldn’t look for him. Would he even care?
The anger and betrayal that had been controlling him for the past several weeks fizzled away into nothing, and was replaced by a deep sense of regret. How had he messed this up so bad? He trusted Tim—he trusted Tim more than he trusted himself some days, and yet he had lashed out at him. He had gone to his house with his knife with the intention of harming him, every good memory they had together suddenly forgotten—every small moment of peace they allowed themselves to have pushed to the back of Jay’s mind.
And for the first time in what felt like years—it very well could’ve been—Jay felt a stinging wetness behind his eyes. He lifted his shaking hand from his side, staring at the way his blood soaked through his shirt and coated his hand. His head started to spin the longer he looked at it and in a daze, he pressed his hand back to his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding despite knowing there was nothing he could do. He was going to die here.
Jay could feel his body relaxing, his hand slowly slipping away and his eyes feeling heavy as he struggled to keep them open. He felt his head loll forward as he no longer had the energy to hold it up. He wished he was back in one of the motel rooms he and Tim had been to a dozen times, sitting in the comfortable silence of unsaid words. He wished he had said them—he wished he had cherished the time they had together more, cherished Tim more. He wished he could go back and fix what he had ruined—he wished he had just trusted him.
Distantly, Jay heard the soft thumps of running footsteps and wondered if Alex had come back to finish him off after all. Maybe he’d make it quick.
Through his half lidded eyes, he could just barely make out the shape of a person standing in front of him before they fell to their knees, cupping his face in their hands. The figure tilted Jay’s head up and he forced his eyes to focus. And oh.
Tim.
Tim was here, and he was speaking, and looking at Jay with something in his eyes Jay couldn’t identify—something Jay didn’t think he deserved. Tim’s voice slowly replaced the sound of his heart hammering in his ears.
“—with me. Stay with me buddy, come on. Can you hear me?” Tim said urgently, tapping on Jay’s cheek lightly. Jay leaned into it more than he meant to.
“…T-im?” he muttered, his voice weaker and quieter than he wanted it to be.
Tim made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh and only then was Jay able to tell the man seemed to be on the verge of tears. Because of him? Why? He thought Tim would’ve hated him after what he did—thought he should’ve.
“I’m here, you’re gonna be okay. Just— Just keep your eyes on me.”
“You… came back… for me?” Jay slurred, his mouth struggling to make the shapes he needed to talk.
“Of course I did,” Tim said, almost sounded offended at the idea that he wouldn’t. “I need to pick you up now okay? We’re gonna go to a hospital.”
Jay hummed in response, though he didn’t know if Tim even heard it. It was taking everything in him to not fall asleep, he was so tired he just wanted all of this to be over. He wasn’t alone anymore, Tim was with him now. He wanted the pain to stop.
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Jay was lighter in Tim’s arms than he thought he’d be. He knew the man struggled with eating before they split up after Jay confronted him, and Tim was worried it had gotten worse since then. After they went back to Alex’s old house, he often had very little appetite and if it wasn’t that, it was a heavy state of dissociation that Tim couldn’t break him out of. He shoved the concern down, promising himself he’d deal with it later after Jay got to the hospital. A morbid part of him reminded him that wouldn’t matter if Jay didn’t survive this. He looked down at the man in his arms, his head rested heavy against Tim’s shoulder, and his eyes half lidded and distant. Tim wasn’t sure if Jay was even aware enough to know what was going on now and Tim hoped that if that was the case, he was at least in less pain.
Tim himself was barely aware of what he was doing, rushing through the building with panic settled deep in his gut as he tried not to think about the possibility of losing Jay. He couldn’t. He couldn’t lose anyone else. Not like he knew he lost Brian. He had been blinking back tears ever since he found Jay bleeding out in that room, weak and half-dead already. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry—not yet. He had to put all of his focus into Jay right now. He cared about Jay, maybe even more than he cared about himself. If he could trade places with him he would in a heartbeat.
He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but sometime during their partnership Tim had grown inexplicably fond of the man. He cared about him more than what would be reasonable for their situation—maybe to the point of love. Tim never really understood love with growing up in the hospital, but he thought maybe he loved Jay. He certainly cared enough to take care of him for months when he couldn’t do it himself. Even back then he cared enough to quit his job, leave his life behind—to follow him across the state and maybe to his end. He cared enough about him to put himself directly in harms way to keep him safe. He would’ve done it again too, if only he had gotten here quicker—if only he had known Jay was here.
He should’ve been the one to take that bullet.
This was his fault anyway wasn’t it? His childhood monster that had infected Alex.
Jay’s hand slipped from his side, hanging loosely as blood trickled from his fingers and dropped to the floor below. Tim noticed his eyes were fluttering and his breathing was growing more shallow. He couldn’t lose him.
“Jay,” Tim called, his voice cracking as he pushed the door out of Benedict Hall open with his back. “Keep your eyes open, come on. We’re almost to the car. Just stay awake.”
“Tim… I’m sorry… for—for everything,” he murmured, and Tim had to strain to hear his voice.
“Don’t talk. Save your breath, you have nothing to apologize for,” Tim said, harsher than he meant to. He finally made it to the car, opening the door with the hand under Jay’s knees before nudging it the rest of the way open with his foot. He settled Jay into the passenger’s seat, ignoring the warm feeling of blood on his own clothes. He hastily buckled Jay in, turning to rush to the driver’s side as he felt a weak pull at his sleeve. Tim met Jay’s eyes, something desperate in his partner’s gaze that he didn’t like.
“Stay…” Jay whispered, his voice barely audible.
Tim gripped his hand as he spoke, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, but you need to let me drive. I need to get you to a hospital.”
Jay’s breathing was stuttering as he started to cough faintly, his back arching from the seat slightly as blood spilled from his lips and down his chin before he relaxed again. The blood seemed even brighter against his paling skin. His gaze was even more distant and his breathing was infrequent as he tried to suck air into his lungs.
He was dying.
Tim was going to lose him.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, look at me, Jay,” Tim said dropping Jay’s hand as it landed limply at his side. Tim wiped away the blood from his chin with his sleeve before cupping Jay’s face in his hands.
Tim’s head was screaming at him to get in the car and drive, but his heart won out in the end. He wanted—no—he needed to comfort him, and maybe comfort himself a bit too. He didn’t want Jay to close his eyes alone and he didn’t want to be away from him when he did—not when he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time he heard his voice or saw his eyes. His deep, curious, blue eyes that were now dull and almost lifeless.
“Don’t leave me. Please… don’t—you can’t—“Tim struggled to speak past the lump in his throat.
“Tim…” he breathed before his eyes fell closed, his head going heavy in Tim’s hands. Tim stifled a sob as he shifted one of his hands down to Jay’s neck, resting it just below his jaw, feeling for a pulse.
He held his breath and for a heartbreaking second, he felt nothing before he noticed the faintest beat beneath his fingertips. He got lightheaded from relief, briefly collapsing in on himself and pressing his forehead to Jay’s chest. He didn’t have time to cry, not yet. He pulled himself up, his gaze lingering on Jay’s slack face for a moment too long before he rushed to the other side of the car and practically threw himself into the driver’s seat.
He floored it away from Benedict Hall, rushing to the nearest hospital he remembered seeing. Almost hysterically, he was suddenly glad for all the motels he and Jay had been through, because now he knew more about the layout of Alabama than he ever thought he needed to know. He was running on autopilot, but knew he broke several traffic laws and somehow didn’t get pulled over. He vaguely remembered risking periodic glances at Jay, watching the stuttered and subtle rise and fall of his chest just to make sure he was still alive.
Speeding up to the front of the hospital, Tim threw the car into park, lurching forward slightly as the car wasn’t completely stopped yet, before scrambling out of the car and to the passenger’s side. He scooped Jay up in his arms again, his head hanging limply over Tim’s arm. He pushed open the doors with this shoulder and the receptionist stood up in alarm before presumably paging someone over an earpiece. Quickly—though Tim was too out of it and too focused on Jay to really realize how quickly—a few nurses came bursting through one of the hallway doors, hurrying in Tim’s direction with a stretcher.
“He was shot. He passed out a few minutes ago, I don’t—I don’t know how long. The bleeding wouldn’t stop but he’s still—I think he’s still breathing.” Tim continued to ramble uselessly as they took Jay from him and laid him down on the stretcher. He watched as one of the nurses pressed a gloved hand to Jay’s neck but didn’t say anything out loud. Two of the nurses left with Jay back through the doors they came in, clearly speeding down the hallway and yet it wasn’t fast enough to settle any of Tim’s worries.
Abruptly, Tim’s knees buckled and he started to sink to the floor, only steadied by the last nurse’s hands on him, lowering him to the ground.
“Don’t touch me.” He tried to sound harsh, he tried to spit it out, but he likely just sounded broken and feeble.
He barely felt the nurse remove her hands before he started hyperventilating, all the stress finally catching up to him as he unraveled on the floor and fell apart. What if that was the last time he saw Jay? What if the last time he saw him was him holding his limp body in his arms as he tried to do everything he could to save him. What if he was dead already? What if Tim wasn’t fast enough getting to the hospital or even finding him in the school? Would he even be able to live with himself then? He couldn’t be alone again. After Brian left with no explanation, he had no one until Jay forcefully entered his life and while he may have been getting better, it didn’t change how lonely he was. He refused to get close to anyone again and yet there Jay was, digging into his past and his secrets against Tim’s wishes and somehow he thought he was better off for it. Jay may have dragged him back into this situation, or he may have ended up dragged in by someone else, he didn’t know and he found he didn’t care. Jay was worth it. He was worth all of the lying and the running, and the fear, and the danger. Jay was worth it to him. He had to be okay. Tim needed him.
Tim could feel himself shaking on the floor as he tried to inhale through his sobbing. He wrapped his shaking arms around himself and curled in on himself, for the first time in a while not caring how he looked while he broke down. He didn’t care if people were staring—they didn’t have to carry their friend into the emergency room as he bled out in their arms. They didn’t know what he was feeling.
He vaguely registered the nurse talking to him in a low, kind, voice, but he couldn’t focus on it. He could only hear his own crying and his heart beating in his ears. He felt his teeth chattering together as he struggled to get his breathing under control. It had been a while since he had a panic attack this bad.
It took a while, and a lot of deliberate effort, but eventually Tim was about to get his breathing somewhat under control. At least enough that he was able to hear the nurse talking now.
“We’ll help him, he’ll be okay. Just keep breathing, you’re doing good,” She said, her voice quiet as if she was trying to calm a wild animal. Normally, he’d feel pathetic and weak, but right now he accepted her words with gratitude. She was nothing like the orderlies from the hospital he grew up in and he needed to let himself trust her. Where they were harsh and impatient, she was gentle and understanding—not telling him to get up and move on. She didn’t restrain him or touch him against his will, she let him have the space he needed and didn’t rush him.
Tim uncurled himself slowly, blinking his eyes to try and focus his vision better—they were likely going to be puffy and irritated for a while. The nurse was sat in front of him, but not to close to the point she was caging him in. She kept her distance and he appreciated that.
“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll go to the front desk, you’ll need to fill out some paper-work but I can help with it if you need. I’ll also fill you in on what’s been happening with your friend,” she said, her voice still quiet.
He nodded, feeling ashamed of his emotions now as he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. He stood up on shaky legs, feeling off balance and exhausted as he followed the nurse to the front desk.