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It had been three days since he last said a single word to 'Hog, avoiding eye contact and hanging his head low, any ounce of enthusiasm seemingly gone. He'd solemnly walk behind his bodyguard, the subtle sounds of his prosthetic leg drowned out compared to the footsteps Mako made.
They had made their way through towns, cities and barren roads with fewer questionable stares than normal, the silence deafening and more annoying than Jamison's excitable commentary provided every time the two were together.
Mako slowed his pace when they reached a small, rundown shack of sorts, the outside walls covered with mismatched sheets of metal and planks of wood. It was an empty place they had claimed as their own, returning to it any time they needed to go into hiding for awhile. It was better than motels where the receptionist could see their faces and hear their voices to identify them if the police showed up. They didn't have to worry about being quiet either.
Unlocking the thick padlock on the door Mako had purchased a few months back, he opened the noisy metal door and stepped inside, sighing heavily as he dropped the black duffel bag he'd been carrying on his shoulder onto the floor with a thud. He turned around, rolling his eyes as he stared at Jamison, who had been toying with his metal arm on the threshold instead of coming inside.
Mako cleared his throat loudly to grab his attention and he'd finally looked up at him, just for a moment, before looking down again and stepping inside, pulling the door shut behind him. As soon as he'd shut it, however, he'd returned to poking at the palm of his prosthetic hand, touching the bolts and imagining the inner wiring as he moved his fingers.
Sighing again, Mako pulled the duffel bag across the floor towards the damaged table at the foot of one of the beds, hoisting it up on top of it. He unzipped it and scanned the items inside: an impossibly large mass of stolen money, a few gold bars, an assortment of snacks, some water and a few items of clothing. Oh, and of course, more bombs than necessary because Jamison insisted he needed his explosives. Mako only pulled out a half empty bottle of water and took a single sip before putting it back, leaving the rest for Jamison.
"Are you going to play statue all night?" Mako asked, the sudden increase in noise making the smaller man jump. They'd been walking for hours and it was odd that Jamison hadn't bothered to relax yet; something was clearly wrong but he wasn't explaining what.
To Jamison, it didn't help that Mako decided to sit on Jamison's bed instead of his own, so he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, somehow looking further down than he already had been, a poor attempt at hiding his face. He waited almost a minute before sitting down on the floor, quietly tapping his metal fingers on the boards, oblivious to Mako's staring.
In every other situation and on any other day, Mako wouldn't be concerned with Jamison's antics and strange behaviour, but this was especially bizarre and out of character. It was though an entirely different person had taken over his body, possessing him into behaving like a distant minded mute, unresponsive to any stimuli.
Mako had noticed even the subtle differences, like how Jamison would walk further back than usual, how he would refuse physical contact and eye contact, how he'd intentionally take a few steps back if 'Hog moved closer or leaned over for something. He hadn't been making snarky comments, poking and prodding to ignite frustration, or shouting about his explosives or people that upset him and it was fucking weird.
It got even more weird when Jamison looked at his prosthetic arm and leg intently, squinting and lowering his brow before aggressively undoing the clasps and ripping them off so quickly it was a surprise he hadn't broken them. He'd almost missed the wires, which would have rendered his right arm completely useless. Jamison pushed them across the floor instead of carefully placing them on the table like he usually did, crossing his left leg under his half of a right one, resting his left hand in his lap, smoothing the fabric of his shorts.
Grumbling and frowning underneath his mask, Mako slowly rose from the bed and stood in front of the younger man, looming over him, having to crouch down a bit at all times because of his height, even after rebuilding half the shack to have a taller ceiling. It cast a shadow that stretched over Jamison and behind him.
It took awhile but eventually Jamison looked up, slowly and hesitantly, craning his neck. The two exchanged an unsettling stare, Jamison being the first to look away again, to which Mako responded by exhaling loudly through his noise, the sound muffled by his mask as he sat down on the floor in front of the blond.
"Jamison," he said, deciding that using his real name for once might do something. "Look at me."
At first there was nothing, no glances nor movement, but when Mako quieted his voice and said his name again as softly as he was capable of doing, he could see Jamison's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, just barely lifting his gaze.
'Hog wasn't one for physical contact as much as Jamison wasn't, but he needed to try a different approach, since he wasn't responding to anything else he'd been doing. Mako reached forward, a finger underneath Jamison's chin, lifting until their eyes locked again, though Jamison wasn't entirely sure he was looking at Mako's eyes as much as we was looking at the mask's.
It looked like he was pouting almost, mouth small and lips downturned, his eyes sunken and seemingly darker than usual. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Jamison's eyes looked bloodshot and red, as if he'd been...
"Jamie--"
The blond swallowed hard again, clenching his jaw as he struggled not to look away again, breathing shallow. His features began to twist in a way Mako had never seen before, indicating the younger man was about to cry.
"Tell me." Mako said sternly, moving both hands to hold Jamison's face, perhaps a little too tight. He watched his lips quiver and his eyelids twitch, an obvious glossiness covering his golden eyes.
"You're leavin' me, mate." Jamison choked out, trying to smile.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Heard ya... The other day. Said you were tired o' me behaviour, needed a way out."
"Jamison..."
"No-" The blond sniffled and pulled his head backwards to get out of Mako's grasp. "No, you said you were leavin' me behind, same as everyone else."
His voice was getting louder, higher in pitch, his speech slurring as he spoke too quickly.
"But'cha can't, 'cause I'm leavin' first. 'M not being left behind like trash again. You just watch me, mate..."
Jamison wasn't looking at Roadhog anymore, but his face was still twitching as he tried to stop the tears, pretend he was the big guy here, pretend he was perfectly alright when he so clearly wasn't. He had tried to get up off the floor and away from 'Hog to leave but fell, whining from the impact. His face was contorted in such a way it was obvious how hard he was trying not to break.
Mako sighed once again, softly this time as he leaned forwards and grabbed Jamison's arms, pulling him up from off his back. He watched the tears begin to flow incessantly as he pulled the weeping mess close to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around him to keep him from moving away again. It was never something he thought he'd be doing, but it was much needed, and knowing they weren't fighting for once and that whatever it was Mako was doing now was allowing him to finally reach a breakthrough, well it was alright.
"You're crazy, you know that? I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."
"But you said-"
"Forget what I said. You know how my temper is. We've been at this long enough..."
"But.. Y'said you were tired of me, don't that mean you don't want me around?"
'Hog exhaled loudly, his breath passing through the filters of his mask and over Jamison's back. He pulled the blond away from his body, clueing in to the skin-on-skin contact but deciding it wasn't that weird afterall, and held the 'Rat by his midsection, hands big enough to fit around his tiny waist.
"Would you listen for once? You're like a ticking time bomb, like all your damn explosives. Always going off. Never quiet. But that's what keeps me occupied, knowing I have to be on my guard, that I have to keep an eye out for you, even when all you're doing is breathing. Let's keep it that way."
For whatever strange reason, the subtle indirect commentary and implied insults seemed to register in Jamison's mind better than outright telling him 'I'm not leaving', and slowly, he began to grin.
Wide smile spread across his face, Jamison almost laughed as his excitement began to return to his small frame, reaching up to rest a hand on the front of Mako's mask. He didn't move for awhile, only stared, then pulled on the snout of the black mask.
"Gotta see your face, make sure you ain't lyin' to me." 'Rat said, grin still plastered to his face.
If it were yesterday or the next, Mako would have threatened to cut off Jamison's other arm if he tried this, but today was different. He let the mask be lifted away from his face, watching with hesitation for any sort of change in the blond in front of him, and there was. Jamison's smile disappeared and he stared at Mako, observing his features, never before seeing the man's face. Faint scars, with an unnaturally gentle look in his eyes, contrasting what he did for a living and his sadism that came into play with each passing day. Mako tried to smile, and sighed in relief, for when Jamison stopped staring at his eyes long enough to see the corners of Mako's mouth curling upwards, his own smile returned, somehow bigger than before, sharp teeth gleaming.
"Well, look at you," he said. "Look like a train hit'cha."
Jamison punched his arm playfully and looked down at the mask he'd dropped in his lap, giggling. A moment later, he'd looked up again, staring in fascination, not at all serious by his remark.
"You know, Jamison--" Mako started, absentmindedly touching Rat's hair, almost patting him on the head. "You're alright. Actually, you're pretty great. A nuisance, a walking disaster, but pretty damn great. I'm not leaving any time soon."
"..Do ya promise?" Jamison asked, a slight tilt to his head.
"Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now put these back on before you fall again."
"You've always got me back."
"That's my job."
Mako let go of Jamison to pick up his prosthetics, handing to him. The smile on Jamison's face never disappeared again as he hastily put his metal arm and leg back on, back to his usual self. He was giddy about the fact that his favourite bodyguard and friend wasn't going to leave him in the dark like so many others had done in the past, at least for now.
Though as the night carried on, an empty space in Jamison's mind was slowly being filled with the negative thoughts and questions again and he'd been falling asleep hours later, watching the silhouette of Mako on the opposite bed tinkering with something in the dim light, he wondered...
'What if this is a trick?'