"Thank you."
His voice is hoarse, filled with a dry, hitching sob. He clings to me so tightly, as if he never wants to let me go. And his gratitude stings more than the sight of his bruises, the bloodstains on his face and the tears in his eyes. His chin is resting on my right shoulder, his fingers digging into my back.
"Thank you," he repeats, more fervently this time; he doesn't let me go, and his body heaves against mine. I realize he is crying, and considering how swiftly I react to the most unexpected situations, it's strange how long I take to raise my hand stiffly and touch him.
I half-expect him to flinch away, to recoil from physical touch that has brought him nothing but pain in the past few hours. I have watched too many tortures before; and now I close my eyes and imagine Will sitting in that chair — my eyes flash open again.
But to my surprise, he doesn't move away. He remains limp, leaning against me for support, and I awkwardly pat his back, feeling foolish and — how could I comfort Will when I led him into this?
I wouldn't let you do this if I thought the odds were in favor of your murder.
Those were my words, and he believed me. I told him to inform his source that he knew about "the circumference" and when he asked me what it was, I replied that he didn't need to know. I promised him that I would protect him, that I would be monitoring the situation the whole time; but the situation got out of hand and it almost cost Will his life.
Will says something, very softly; his voice is muffled, but I hear the words clearly.
"Don't leave me."
Anguish tears through me at the broken tone of his voice. God, he's a wreck. He's trembling against me, his body shaking from whatever they did to him, the pain and drugs and fear they forced on him. Sydney can't see him like this.
I can't see him like this.
Pull yourself together, Tippin, I want to tell him. *Focus.*
But I say nothing.
Instead I wrap both arms around him, pulling him close. The smell of blood and sweat and grime from his body is thick, stifling, making me feel sick, although not because of the odor. I've been in many dark places before: I spent two nights trapped in a silo, breathing the stench of decaying flesh, and I've ripped corpses apart with a bayonet and yanked out bloody entrails just to recover swallowed microchips.
This is far worse.
"I'll take you home," I say quietly; the tenderness in my voice surprises me.
"No." He shakes his head vigorously, still clutching me. "They're watching me, they're watching me all the time — don't leave me alone again, Jack. Please."
I gently pull back, holding him away from me. His bruised face catches the moonlight, which paints the bloodstains red-black, lined with tracks of tears. I look straight into his eyes; one of them is darkened to purple, swollen almost shut.
"I won't leave you," I tell him, my hands tightening on his shoulders. He nods, blinking back tears, although the expression of blank terror stays in his eyes.
I carefully release him. He seems unsteady, but remains standing. He wipes the back of his hand over his face, wincing as dirt smears across raw, open wounds. I can't bear to watch him like that. I catch his hand and take it away from his face.
"Let's go. We need to get you cleaned up." He stands there, dazed, and doesn't move; and at this moment I want to kill the bastard who did this to him. Slowly. I clench my teeth to calm myself, and then touch Will's arm lightly. "Will, you're safe now. No one's going to hurt you anymore." I pause, and then add grimly, "I'll make sure of that."
He nods again, and then slowly shuffles towards the passenger side of the car. Each step he takes seems like a great effort for him; he manages to crawl into the seat and I close the door.
I climb into the driver's seat, but before I start the engine I cut a sidelong glance at him. He's staring straight ahead, and I can't see the expression in his eyes. I want to ask him if he's feeling all right but I can't bring myself to say the words; I exhale a controlled breath and steel myself. I have to be strong. For him.
This time, I'll keep my promise.
- fin -