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Jack knew something was wrong long before he could name it.
It started as a flicker - one of those quiet, almost imperceptible shifts in the air that most people would’ve ignored. A door closing too softly down the hall. Footsteps that didn’t quite match the rhythm of the building. The hum of electricity that felt...off somehow.
He’d learned, over years of staying alive when others didn’t, that instincts like that weren’t to be dismissed. So he didn’t. He catalogued instead.
Door: third on the left, closed five minutes ago - had been open earlier.
Footsteps: uneven, possibly limping or carrying weight.
Voices: none. Too quiet. That was the problem.
Too quiet meant deliberate.
Jack’s jaw tightened as he stood just inside the kitchen of their temporary hideout, fingers hovering over the edge of the counter without quite gripping it. His mind ran a mile a minute, connecting dots that may or may not have been there.
Someone had found them. It was the only explanation.
They’d been sloppy - Nick, specifically. Too loud, too visible, too himself. Jack had compensated, like always, but there were limits. There were always limits, and this time...
“Hey.”
The word cut through his spiraling thoughts, sharp and casual and entirely unworried. Jack flinched. Actually flinched, shoulders jerking, breath catching halfway to his lungs. He turned too fast, his pulse already spiking.
Nick leaned against the doorway like he’d always been there, like he hadn’t just materialized out of Jack’s blind spot. “Jesus,” Nick said mildly. “Didn’t know I was that terrifying.”
Jack stared at him. He focused on the important details: no weapon drawn, no tension in his stance, his eyes alert but not alarmed. If something was wrong, Nick wasn’t acting like it. Which meant either Nick hadn’t noticed...or he was pretending. That thought immediately sent his panic skyrocketing. “You didn’t hear it?” Jack asked in a tight voice.
“Hear what?”
“There was someone in the hall. The door...” Jack gestured vaguely. “It changed. It was open earlier. Now it’s not. And the footsteps. They’re the wrong pattern. Inconsistent.”
Nick blinked at him. He seemed to process Jack’s rambling. “Okay,” he finally said slowly. “Or - and I’m just spitballing here - we’re in a building. With other people. Who do groundbreaking things. Like using doors or walking.”
Jack shook his head immediately. “No. No, it wasn’t... There was intent. You can tell. You have to be able to tell...” His breath hitched. That was new. Not to mention annoying. He tried again, dragging in air, but it didn’t settle right. It caught somewhere too high in his chest, shallow and insufficient.
Nick’s gaze sharpened. “Jack.”
“I’m telling you!” Jack continued, sounding more desperate, urging Nick to understand. “This is how it happens. Small things. You miss one detail and suddenly you’re...” He snapped his fingers, the sound too loud in the quiet room. “Gone. That’s it. That’s all it takes.” His heart was beating too hard. Too fast. It felt wrong. Out of sync with everything else, like it was trying to outrun something.
“Okay,” Nick said again, more firmly this time, pushing off the doorframe. “Slow down.”
“I am slow,” Jack shot back, his voice climbing high. “That’s the problem. I should’ve checked sooner, I should’ve...” His fingers curled into the edge of the counter, gripping hard enough that his knuckles went white. He couldn’t get enough air. Why couldn’t he get enough air? “I should’ve seen it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I always see it. That’s the job, that’s the whole point, and if I missed it--”
“Jack.”
The voice was suddenly a lot closer now. Jack’s head snapped up, and he stared with wide eyes as Nick stepped into his space. Instinct screamed at him to move, to create distance, but... He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Everything felt wrong. Tilted. Like the room had shifted off its axis and his body hadn’t caught up.
Nick held up both hands, palms open. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle, as if trying to calm a spooked horse. “Look at me.”
Jack tried. He really did. But his vision kept slipping, tunneling at the edges. Nick’s face blurred, sharpened, blurred again. “I can’t.” Jack swallowed hard, his eyes wide with panic. “Something’s wrong.”
“Yeah,” Nick said dryly. “You’re having a meltdown in our kitchen.”
Jack made a strangled noise that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t been so close to a sob instead. “I’m serious,” he insisted, his panic spiking higher. “This isn’t... This is real, Nick. I’m not making this up.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Nick’s reply was immediate and firm. It cut through Jack’s panic, just enough. Jack blinked at him, disoriented. Nick took a careful half-step closer. “Listen to me,” he said in a calm, no-nonsense tone. “There’s no one in the hall. I checked. Twice, actually, because I know how your brain works.”
Jack’s grip on the counter tightened. “You could’ve missed something.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Nick snapped, then immediately dialed it back, exhaling through his nose. “Okay. Fine. Let’s say I’m wrong. Let’s say there’s a whole army of mystery footsteps out there just waiting to ruin our day.”
Jack’s breath hitched again. “Great,” he said hoarsely. “So you agree--”
“No.” Nick leaned in slightly, catching his gaze. “I’m saying even if that were true, you hyperventilating yourself into unconsciousness is not a winning strategy.”
Jack froze. Hyperventilating. That... That sounded... He tried to focus on himself. Too fast breaths. Tight chest. Dizzy, lightheaded, fingers tingling where they gripped the counter. “I can’t...” he said, his voice breaking. “I can’t stop it.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Nick muttered, but there was no bite behind the words. He moved again, slowly and deliberately, until he was close enough that Jack could see the faint crease between his brows. The worry there, subtle but unmistakable. It shouldn’t have been reassuring, but somehow it was. “Okay,” Nick said. “New plan. You’re gonna breathe.”
“I am breathing!”
“Badly,” Nick cut in. “You’re doing it wrong. Which, honestly, is impressive. Didn’t think that was a skill.”
Jack let out a shaky, involuntary sound - half protest, half something else.
“Focus,” Nick added quickly, in a soft voice. “In. Slow. Through your nose.”
Jack tried. Air came in sharp and uneven, catching halfway.
“Again,” Nick said. He stayed there, uncomfortably close, like he wasn’t sure if he should touch Jack or not. Maybe he wasn’t. Jack couldn’t tell. Everything felt too loud, too close, too much. “In,” Nick prompted. Jack obeyed. This time it went a fraction deeper. “Out. Slow.” The exhale trembled, but it came. “Good. Again.”
It was mechanical at first, forced. Jack followed the instructions because they were something to hold onto, something external to anchor himself to while his mind tried to spin away. In. Out. In. Out.
Nick counted under his breath at some point - quietly, almost embarrassed about it, like he knew how ridiculous it sounded, but he was doing it anyway. “...three, four... Yeah, like that. Don’t get creative on me now.”
Jack huffed weakly, and his grip on the counter loosened, just a fraction. The room steadied slowly. The edges began to sharpen back into place, the tilt corrected itself. His heart still raced, but it wasn’t trying to tear its way out of his chest anymore.
“See?” Nick said, a hint of smugness creeping back in. “Breathing. Highly recommended. Very trendy.”
Jack dragged a trembling hand over his face. “Shut up.”
“Ah, there he is.” There was something in Nick’s voice. Relief, maybe. Buried under layers of dry humor, but definitely there.
Jack leaned back against the counter. The adrenaline crash hit hard, leaving him shaky and exhausted in its wake.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Jack asked quietly, “You really checked?”
Nick didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
“All of it?”
“Yeah.”
Jack swallowed. “And there’s nothing?”
“Nope.”
Jack let out a slow breath. This time around, it didn’t catch. “Okay.”
Nick shifted his weight, glancing at Jack like he wasn’t quite sure what to do next. “Listen,” Nick finally just said, scratching the back of his neck. “Next time? Maybe give me a heads-up before you decide we’re under siege. I could’ve at least grabbed popcorn.”
Jack huffed a weak almost-laugh. “Duly noted.” He gave Nick a long look. “Thanks,” he added sincerely.
Nick held his gaze for a moment. “Don’t mention it,” he said, then flashed a quick grin. “Seriously. Let’s never talk about this again.”
And this time, Jack actually laughed.
THE END