Chapter Text
When Håvard decently woke up for the first time since God knows how long, a gentle light was warming his eyelids. He managed to flutter them open, and realized that it was sunlight shining through the blind of a medical room - white walls, tiled ceiling, and lights half extinguished.
He took a deep breath, feeling his body anchylosed, and pulled one hand out of the blanket to rub his eyes. He noticed the IV and bandages on his arm, and tried to sit up with his other hand, but found it trapped by a weight. He tried to pull a little as he glanced at the origin of the resistance, to make sure that he simply still had his hand.
But that's when he saw him.
Jordan. Slumped forward on a chair, his head resting on Håvard's hand, near his hip, his face asleep; a small butterfly bandage on his cheek. Håvard’s heart started beating crazily at this sight: Jordan was so close. He was there. And they were both safe and sound. And he was with him again. His sweetie pie... he missed him so much, and the mere sight of his face was enough to put butterflies in his belly, and he was dying to put a kiss on his sleepy face.
But his arm was getting a little numb, so he pulled it free. In the process, he accidentally woke Jordan up, who suddenly sat up, his eyes half closed, and face confused.
"Hej, sweetie pie," Håvard whispered with a cavernous voice he hadn't used for some time.
"You're awake. How do you feel? Are you in pain?" Jordan immediately asked.
"Hm... no, I don't think so, I... I'm just exhausted. And I'm not sure I remember everything," he mumbled. "I... we... is it over?"
"Yes. You're safe. All of you.”
"Where are the others?”
"Not far. The girls are already better and resting in their dorms with their lovers. And Gilles is still heavily medicated, but he's gonna make it.”
"H-How much time...?”
"You were MIA for 16 days. And you’ve been back for 3 days, you slept a lot. You were wounded and exhausted.”
Håvard faintly nodded his head, running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp.
"And you... you're back from Texas?”
"Yeah. And I'm warning you right now, this is the last time you take advantage of my absence to get kidnapped.”
Håvard couldn't repress a sad smile. He also noticed the hearing aids on Jordan's ears, and unconsciously brought his fingers close to his face to graze them:
"Your hearing... hasn't returned?” he asked with worry.
Jordan smiled joylessly.
"Not fully," he admitted.
There was silence after that. Håvard frowned, and his face tensed with the idea of Jordan being somehow forever injured. He still remembered the trip in the helicopter, the thick bandage around his ears and head, his dilated pupils and sobs... when he was holding his wounded face in his hands.
So useless and powerless in the face of Jordan’s physical and mental suffering.
Jordan tilted his head to the right, worried by Håvard's silence, and asked him:
"Are you in pain? Do you want me to call Doc?”
"N-No, sorry. I'm still a little out of it... So we’re in Hereford now?”
"Don't you recognize the room?” Jordan replied with a smile. “It's where you were during your concussion.”
Håvard scanned the room and remembered it indeed. But it was strange; there were flowers and letters on the table. Jordan followed his gaze.
"Ah, yes," he started explaining, “Emma made me buy you flowers, and Harry, Kali, Apha, Melusi and Julien wrote you a few words. And so did Olivier, but he writes so badly that it would be better to have Gustave decipher it. And your fans also wrote you tons of messages on your networks.”
"My... fans?" Håvard questioned. "How did they find out?"
"Your mother told them. I didn't know she also had an account with so many followers," Jordan replied with a chuckle.
"My... mother?!" Håvard suddenly exclaimed. "Oh my God, she must be so worried, I-"
"Shh, shh, don't worry,” Jordan immediately reassured him. “I've phoned her several times. She’s ok, she just can't wait to hear your voice and see you again.”
"... she must have been worried sick,” Håvard mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut at the idea.
"It's over now," Jordan repeated while taking one of Håvard’s hands in his own.
And Håvard relaxed at that touch. Jordan's hands were warm, comforting, and Håvard could sometimes feel small irregularities, probably from his scars and burns, but it was all the more pleasing, because they were his hands. No one else's, and he would recognize them by touch with his eyes closed.
Håvard couldn't help but sigh with relief, even though a shadow still tinged his heart.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
Jordan seemed surprised by his question, his brows lifting with confusion. But he quickly answered:
"Someone needed to take care of you, and be there when you woke up."
"So, you're here out of obligation? Please don't tell me you feel guilty for what happened, or something like that."
Jordan chuckled, massaging Håvard's wrist in his hands.
"No, lemme rephrase this,” he restarted with a smile. “I'm here because I care about you."
Then, Jordan looked him in the eye, fixing his silver gaze on Håvard’s drowsy sapphires. The latter immediately fled his stare, looking away and squinting a bit. He was about to massage the bridge of his nose with his other hand, bandaged, but Jordan softly stopped him from it.
"Don't touch your nose. It's still healing,” he worriedly said.
Håvard squinted at his own nose, and realized he had a thick bandage on it, hence his latent feeling of discomfort. His bandaged hand fell back on the mattress and he just sighed. His other hand was still in Jordan's.
Why was he so affectionate? Massaging his hand, telling him those sweet things… ?
"When you say that you care about me... “ Håvard mumbled. “Is it... I mean, I don't understand, in what sense do you... care?"
But the door opened before Jordan could answer, his hands instantly releasing Håvard's, and Doc appeared:
"Ah I was telling myself you’d probably be waking up!" the Frenchman exclaimed. “How's our sleeping beauty doing?”
"Um, I... well. I'm just feeling a bit... groggy?”
Jordan stood up, putting his chair next to the table, and started to blush.
"Let's um... I'll let Doc check you out a little bit and…” he clumsily stammered. “I'll... we'll talk later, okay?”
"Am I interrupting something?” Doc asked straightforwardly, raising an eyebrow.
"N-No, I was... I was just telling him what happened and... yes, no. I'll... I'll see you later, Håvard?”
"Hum... yes?”
Jordan left, closing the door behind him, and Doc stared at Håvard, raising his black eyebrow again, a smirk on the corner of his lips:
"I interrupted something, didn’t I?”
Jaimini found the person she was looking for, after quite an easy hunt. To be honest, there were actually very few places where her prey could be found. Jaimini walked up to her, her combat boots tapping noisily against the floor of the empty and half obscured workshop, until she was at her level.
“Figured you’d be here, dollhead,” Jaimini scoffed, approaching Monika’s workbench. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
“Go away,” Monika simply replied without shifting, her eyes squinting at the tiny piece of metal she was manipulating with precaution.
Jaimini smirked and went to sit down on the very workbench, pulling Monika out of her focus.
“Move your fat ass away from my bench,” Monika grumbled with her thick German accent. “I’m working.”
“You’re supposed to be resting,” Jaimini replied with a challenging smirk. “And your ass is fatter than mine, by the way.”
Monika dropped her tools, and was about to scold the Indian woman bad, when she got suddenly pulled by the collar of her lab coat. Warm lips crashing on hers, and completely stunning her.
Jaimini chuckled against her lips, and after long seconds of tasting her mouth finally let go of her. Monika tried to keep her angry face on, but couldn’t help cracking an amused smile.
“Had I known you were going to be this attention-needy, Jaimini Kalimohan Shah...”
“I’m not needy. I just want you to rest. You’ve been through a lot.”
“I know. But resting isn’t what I need.”
“That’s not what your French doctor said.”
“Let me rephrase this then,” Monika explained. ”Staying in a bed in a sleepy state isn’t what I need. I need to reconnect to my reality, my lifestyle, get my routines back. Convince my mind into realizing that what happened is done and past, and that I’m well again.”
Jaimini tilted her head sideways, her eyes absent-mindedly looking skywards, as if mentalizing something. Monika smiled weakly, and added:
“I don’t expect you to understand,” she said, placing her hand on Jaimini’s. “Just trust me on that.”
Jaimini tangled her fingers with her freshly nail-polished ones.
“I think I do understand, on the contrary. When… When I got injured and had to rest, the only thing that could soothe me was going back to work. Negotiating. Organizing missions. Reading reports from the R&D department. People told me that I had to let go, but… “
“They didn’t understand?” murmured Monika.
“No. They didn’t. They thought that I was evading the resting process, fleeing something, that drowning myself in work was a coping mechanism. But it wasn’t.”
“That’s just your thing. What you like. How you are,” Monika whispered, more for herself.
Jaimini nodded and continued:
“Sure, there were some excesses that I had to address. Insomnia. Anxiety. But stopping me from doing what I like wasn’t resting.”
Monika smiled softly, gazing at Jaimini. She would never admit it at loud, but she was so happy to hear those words from someone else’s mouth. Someone like her, who could understand her. She felt less alone. Understood. Valid. A warmth spreading in her chest at the sight of Jaimini’s lost gaze, the kohl circling her dark eyes, her sun-kissed skin and muscled figure, her straight spine and defying posture - her gorgeous body wrapped in her Nighthaven uniform as she was still sitting on the workbench, opening up about herself.
Monika closed the gap between them, putting herself between Jaimini’s legs and wrapped her arms around her, till her hands were resting on Jaimini’s lower back. Monika smirked, standing slightly taller, and put a gentle peck on her cheek.
Jaimini’s face softened as she hugged her back.
“Sorry, I’m babbling about my self-interested ass,” Jaimini murmured.
“It’s ok. I appreciate you telling me this.” It matters more than you think. “Besides, I love your self-interested ass.”
Jaimini smiled, sliding her hands under Monika’s lab coat to stroke her back.
“You’re still tensed,” she noticed.
“Probably,” Monika admitted with a shrug.
“Can I help?” Jaimini genuinely asked.
“Maybe we could do some yoga after work? I remember you shitting a brick about me not doing it ‘right’.”
“Hm… I’d like that,” Jaimini purred. “Very much.”
“Can I make a kamasutra joke or I’m going to sound racist?”
“Oh?!” Jaimini exclaimed while suddenly blushing. “Y-You were talking about this kind of yoga?”
Monika giggled, stroking Jaimini’s cheek, before detaching her body from hers and going back to work.
“See you later, hun’?”
Jaimini clumsily jumped down from the workbench, straightening her clothes and trying to regain her composure and put her bossy bitch mask back on.
“Sure, baby doll… Sure.”
Later in the day. On the roof of Hereford's main building.
Håvard was waiting. Doc had allowed him to go out of the infirmary to get some fresh air, on the condition that he didn't do anything 'stupid'. Håvard was still on pain killers and antibiotics; two of his ribs had been fractured, and his nose had been broken in several places and was now covered with a large bandage following his operation, to keep it in place for the time of the repair. Not to mention his left hand, whose nails had been torn off and infected, and which was now resting in a thick bandage. He had almost been amputated; a few more hours and it would have been too late. And then there were the three teeth he had lost, his dislocated jaw that Doc had fixed but which still caused him discomfort whenever he opened it too wide, and the bruises that were staining his body with filthy green and purple galaxies.
He had never felt so ugly in his life.
Of course, his body was going to repair, to heal, but his nose... Doc had told him that they had to operate so that his cartilage wouldn't mend in a bad way and cause him breathing problems. But they weren't plastic surgeons. And between his nose, his scars, bruises, broken teeth... He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror anymore.
He was strangely nauseous at the thought of Jordan seeing him like that. When he had woken up, Håvard had been still too out of it to even imagine how ugly he was, and Jordan's fond gaze had blinded him to this potentiality. His fond gaze…
He and Jordan said they would meet later, and Håvard suggested the roof in mid-afternoon by message. But he didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what to think. On the one hand, the last real private interaction they'd had was over a month ago. When they had kissed and Jordan had left, aborting anything that may have arisen that day. When Håvard told him that he loved him, and Jordan ran away... But there were all these conflicting signals. The reassuring words from Doc, Twitch and then... Jordan’s attitude when he woke up. Sleeping at his bedside. Massaging his hand. Gazing at him. Telling him he cared for him, and...
"It hurts.”
"I know, baby. But you're going to be alright."
Had Håvard imagined this? Was it the effects of a concussion? The words resounded with dizzying warmth; his heart didn't dare to rush, but couldn't completely stop drumming either. Håvard wanted to know the bottom line of this story, and... just see him again. Ask him how it was in Texas. How it went with his family. Ask him if he was better, and if he could stay in Rainbow despite what happened. If he...
The rusty door opened behind him, and Håvard moved away from the low wall on which he had been leaning.
Jordan "Thermite" Trace appeared.
He was wearing military pants, his rangers, an unzipped black sweatshirt and an FBI T-shirt underneath. His beard was slightly shaved, clean and perfect, his hair had grown and surprisingly... they looked blacker, with fewer white locks. Jordan smiled at him and joined him on the edge, at the low wall.
"Hej," Håvard whispered with a faint smile.
"Hey. How are you feelin'?" Jordan immediately asked. "You sure you don't want to rest while we talk?"
"Nah, I hate this bed and this room. I wanted some fresh air."
Jordan smiled, and leaned on the wall next to him, his gray eyes staring at the emptiness in front of them. Håvard stole a few glances at his face, the timid winter sun reflecting in the silvery shine of his eyes, painting a warm light on his stubbled cheeks.
God, he’s so beautiful.
“I can understand,” Jordan replied. “But the air is not fresh. It’s goddam cold.”
Håvard chuckled, trying not to shake nor grin too much because of his healing body.
“You just can’t stand the cold,” Håvard corrected. “Was it warmer in Texas?”
“It was. I mean, it was normal. It’s just this stupid place that’s cold. When I came back, rain poured on me almost on command.”
“And… how did it go in Texas? I heard you were going to see some… family?”
Jordan glanced at him, and seeing that Håvard seemed worried, he began to tell in broad outlines:
“Yeah. Went to see my brother-in-law and my sister’s kids. It was… not what I expected. But for the better. We talked a lot, went on my family’s graves, did lots of things with the kids. It was good. And I feel better.”
Håvard softly nodded his head, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips. Jordan then frowned and said:
“And I’m sorry, Håvard.”
Håvard looked up to meet his eyes, and tilted his head sideways.
“What for?”
“For you know… The way I acted. The things I did. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Håvard breathed in and shrugged:
“You weren’t well. It’s ok.”
“No, it’s not ok,” Jordan refused, reaching for Håvard’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hurting you can never be ok.”
“You say that as if you had stabbed me or something,” Håvard scoffed. “It takes more than that to hurt me, sweetie pie.”
Jordan rolled his eyes and stepped closer, till he could feel Håvard’s breath on his skin.
“Remember when you told me I could see right through your bullshit?” Jordan asked.
“Hm… yeah?”
“I still can.”
Håvard frowned at him, and held his gaze. But after long seconds of trying to keep eye contact, he gave in, smiling weakly.
“Right. Forgot you had that superpower.”
Jordan’s hand moved from Håvard’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, which he softly started rubbing, in a very gentle gesture – aware of Håvard’s state of pain despite the medication. And Håvard closed his eyes, letting his shoulders relax.
“And what about your ears?” he asked, glancing at Jordan’s hearing aids. “You told me you had lost part of your hearing.”
“How about enough talking about me?” Jordan replied.
“Are you trying to dodge my questions like you used to?”
Jordan couldn’t repress a smile at that.
“No, as you said, I used to. It’s just, we could talk about me later. Right now, I’m worried about you. You’ve gone through… a lot. I wanna know how you feel?”
Håvard shrugged, sighing.
“You don’t have to tell me right now, if you don’t want to,” Jordan added.
“Nah, it’s just. I don’t know. I feel like I’m still in there, in that place. I can still hear their cries, their screams… I thought they had killed Gilles at some point. He wasn’t coming back and I… “
Håvard’s eyes started to fill with tears and Jordan immediately wrapped an arm around him to keep him close. To support him.
“I’m sorry, it’s just… I was so scared. Petrified even. I think that’s why they went easy on me the last days, they thought I was broken and had gone mute. They wanted to keep me as a leverage against the others, they threatened to kill me and… I was just so useless.”
Jordan hugged him as best as he could, trying to avoid Håvard’s broken ribs. And Håvard let his head rest in Jordan’s silky hair.
“I was so useless,” he repeated.
“No, you did good. You held on. You didn’t say anything.”
“But they hurt the others more, because of me.”
Jordan detached himself, to cup Håvard’s bruised cheek in his hand.
“Listen to me, Håvard. Those guys were terrorists. Pure evil. They hurt them. Not you. It wasn’t your fault, it was those bastards’. But you, you did great; perfect even. With your silence, you protected everyone. You protected us.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know. I know it doesn’t,” Jordan murmured, stroking Håvard's bruised cheekbone with his thumb. “Believe me, I know. But if there’s something that I learnt lately, it’s that you mustn’t alter reality and twist it into thinking you’re guilty for what happened.”
Håvard grabbed a tissue from his pocket and cautiously cleaned his broken nose that had started dripping with lachrymal liquid. He then squeezed the used tissue into a ball and put it back in his pocket.
Jordan worriedly looked for his blue-eyed gaze:
“Hey, look at me,” he asked. “Please, look at me, pretty.”
Håvard’s eyes met his, and Jordan smiled softly.
“Do you trust me?” Jordan asked.
“Sure,” Håvard replied without hesitation.
“Then trust me with this: I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it wasn’t your fault. And you did good.”
Håvard wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, and softly murmured:
“Thanks.”
“You want me to walk you back to your room, to rest?”
“N-Not now. There’s… something else.”
Jordan kept stroking Håvard’s dried cheek with his thumb, and looked at him worriedly.
“Sure, tell me?”
“I know you… When we… When we were in my dorm, last month. I told you things. We shared… a thing. But I never really knew why. Why you left. Is it because I wasn’t… ?”
Jordan’s face suddenly softened, his heart tightening with worry and guilt at the sight of Håvard’s naked emotions.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jordan reassured him. “I… I enjoyed it. The kiss. I enjoyed kissing you. But I freaked out. I freaked out because I thought that being in love would get me out of my mourning, and that getting out of my mourning would erase the connection I had to my mother and sister. And I was so scared that… something could happen to you and I would… mourn again. I didn’t know what I would do if something… How ironic, huh? When you guys got ambushed only a few weeks later.”
He enjoyed kissing you, Håvard repeated mentally for himself. He was afraid of being in love. Does this mean he was falling for you, or that he didn’t want to remotely feel something for you?
“I’m sorry. Sorry you suffered,” Håvard murmured.
“I’m feeling better, now. I’m ready to move on.”
Håvard wrapped his arms around him, his body sore, yet yearning for a hug. For his warmth.
“And… does it change anything?” Håvard cautiously asked. “Between us?”
“No. It doesn’t,” Jordan replied.
Håvard’s heart fell in his chest, like a severed pendulum. He had his answer: Jordan still didn’t want him. That’s where the road was ending. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face hidden in Jordan’s black hair, trying to choke back his tears. And his nose was aching now. And so was his heart. He shouldn’t be hugging him right now, it was just too painful, but at the same time he couldn’t let go – he just loved him so much… But wasn’t loved back.
He looked skywards, not to pray God, but to refrain more tears from leaving his eyes and dripping on Jordan’s black hair.
“I love you just as much, if not even more,” Jordan murmured, stroking Håvard’s back.
Wait…
What?
“H-Hva?” Håvard blurted, his English filter dropping with the emotion peak.
Jordan slowly parted away to look at him, a grin illuminating his face.
“I love you, Håvard.”
“B-But you said… ?”
Jordan cupped his cheeks.
“I know what I said. And the only thing that changed is my idiotic attitude. Not what I feel for you.”
“What? S-So, you… ?”
Jordan frowned:
“You… love me too, right?” he suddenly asked. “Cause that’d be embarrassing as hell.”
Håvard gaped, rolling his eyes:
“How can you… This is… Helvete, how can you be so oblivious? Of course I love you. I’m… you’re… Jordan, you’re the most beautiful and the sweetest person I’ve ever met, you have no idea how much I love you. When I look at you, my heart goes on a rampage, and when you look back at me, it’s like it’s leaving my chest to meet yours, and… I don’t know what to say. You’re turning my brain to mash potatoes, and fy faen! Jeg elsker deg så mye, at jeg kunne-”
Jordan brought his lips to his, muffling his Norwegian babbling, and Håvard froze. Jordan’s lips started moving against his – warm and wet, just as soft and peachy as he remembered. He closed his eyes and totally let himself drown in euphoria, his bandaged hands grazing Jordan’s face and shaking both with the emotion, and the fear of breaking the moment again. He could smell Jordan’s cologne, the warmth from his skin, from his breath brushing against his face. He almost cried at the feeling.
Jordan only interrupted the kiss to murmur:
“Just so you know. I understood what you said. And I love you too.”
Håvard kept his eyes closed, and softly pressed his forehead against Jordan’s.
“... You do?” he whispered.
“Of course, baby,” Jordan replied, not realizing sooner how insecure Håvard could be. "I'm sorry I made you even doubt it.”
Håvard didn’t reply anything, his forehead still pressed against Jordan’s. A strange and euphoric silence hovering between them. He softly squeezed Jordan’s shoulders beneath his fingers, as if to make sure he was real. That this was really happening.
“... I shouldn’t call you baby?” Jordan worriedly asked.
“You can,” Håvard said with a chuckle. “You definitely can.”
“Then why do you seem... sad?”
“I’m not sad. I’m happy. This is the best day of my life.”
Jordan took him by the shoulders to look him in the eye:
“Then where’s my favorite cheeky smile?”
Håvard couldn’t repress a grin, and Jordan kissed his lips again, pressing his body to his. Håvard let himself go, kissing him passionately in return. He let his hands drop from Jordan's shoulders until he could stroke his collarbones, then his pecs under his T-shirt, feeling his heart beating under his palm.
“Your heart,” Håvard murmured against Jordan’s lips. “It’s beating so fast.”
“Hm hm,” confirmed Jordan.
“It’s like boom boom, boom boom, boom boom... ”
“Yup. Sounds like me exploding stuff,” Jordan joked.
“Hm. You definitely breached through me, then,” Håvard replied with a smirk.
“As someone would say... There is no wall too thick.”
Håvard giggled, pressing a kiss to Jordan’s nose.
But suddenly... Jordan was several centimeters lower. As if he had just come down a step.
And Håvard understood.
“Sweetie pie, don’t tell me you’ve been standing on tiptoes to kiss me this whole time?”
“No.”
“You have!”
“You’re tall, ok?!”
Håvard burst out laughing as he tightened his arms around him, hugging him closely.
“My smoll gorgeous and lovable sweetie pie.”
“My tall charming and adorable drama king.”
Håvard pressed a generous kiss in his dark hair, resting his head against his.
“I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”
Jordan let himself rest against Håvard’s warm body, as he felt his own heart beating with a dizzying rhythm, his body and mind relaxing.
Making way for happiness to finally settle in.
“I love you too, Håvard.”
THE END.