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Small Hours
Richard is having nightmares.
Jimmy only knows this because Nucky calls him in a huff one late afternoon telling him to come over to his office. Jimmy doesn't get an explanation. Nucky hangs up before Jimmy can even get three words in. After Jimmy arrives and closes the door to his office Nucky immediately delves into business not wasting any time.
"Your solider friend, the one with the mask, is keeping Margaret and the children up at night with his screaming. "
Nucky regards Jimmy from behind his huge desk. Jimmy stares at him waiting for the rest of the story. When Nucky doesn't produce it Jimmy twirls his fingers in a: "go on" gesture. Nucky lights a cigarette and shrugs.
"Do something. You're the one that brought him with you from Chicago and asked me if I could put him to use," Nucky glares at him. Jimmy feels his mounting anger and he bites back the verbal assault that threatens to take over. He grits his teeth and rubs at his suddenly tired eyes instead. When he focuses his attention back on Nucky the older man is content doing "business" all but dismissing Jimmy from his sight.
"What the hell do you want me to do?"
Nucky's busy writing in his ledger, his eyes trained to it and his hand working furiously. "Not my problem. Do whatever you need to. You both were in the war you figure it out but I want this taken care of James."
Jimmy has to bite something back again-a retort, a question, an outburst, a cut or maybe a scream. He isn't sure but he swallows it down anyway. Nucky and him had not been seeing eye to eye as of late, their blow ups and disagreements snowballing. Jimmy was waiting for the day when it all came out, when either man couldn't take anymore and they just had at it. Nucky and Richard were definitely not his responsibility though the idea that the ex solider and sharpshooter is having nightmares strikes a chord in Jimmy and he feels himself silently agree to Nucky's request. But he isn't doing it for Nucky he tells himself. He slips out of Nucky's office unnoticed. Story of his life.
Snow falls lazily to the boardwalk and collects on everything. The world is eerily silent. The sky mirrors the ocean as they both are tumultuous and gray, rolling in anger just like Jimmy. The car swerves and bucks under the slippery snow and all Jimmy can see is white like a shroud over his eyes.
His mind is scooped out, his thoughts are as empty as a church, his lungs deflated from the bristling cold and he doesn't know why he's come. He takes the snow sloped stairs two at a time. He raises his hand to the door to knock but it swings opens before he can rasp his knuckles to wood. Richard looks hesitant and stooped over, his one hand deep in his pocket. He regards Jimmy with an impassive look but lowers his eyes and bows his head quickly. Richard steps to the side and motions for Jimmy to enter with a swoop of his arm.
The house is as quiet as the gently falling snow. A clock ticks and echoes through the eloquently decorated rooms, the logs in the fireplace crackle and spit from flames and Jimmy's heavy snow laden boots stomp on the expensive floors. Jimmy realizes they are alone as they settle into the kitchen. Richard fishes a bottle out of a secret place and the two drink mostly in silence. Jimmy stands by the window with one arm over the top of it and watches the silent world.
"Tell me what you remember of the war." Richard tells Jimmy what he remembers and then Jimmy knows why Richard has nightmares because he has them too. Endless fields of death, broken dangerous soil, trees ripped from deep within the earth scattered and laid out like matchsticks, bomb blasts that rattle the precious insides of brain dislodging it, exploding mud, air full of blood and bits of insides, heartbeats in time to gunfire, ears so full of chaos that you're whole body turns inside out and you're only alive when your index finger squeezes cold metal and extinguishes a life. The trenches full of rain water, shifting through shit and bloated bodies, the cold seeps into you and you wish you feel it, bits of comrades and enemies all mixed together until you forget who you are. This is why Richard screams in the middle of the night and why Jimmy is just a voice wrapped up in flesh, his soul long ago taken. Jimmy now knows why he's come.
They talk and remember until the sky is black rippling velvet and the snow cutting across the world is like a constant reminder. The snow is big and fast like it has something to prove. The Irish maiden is there somehow like she's sneaked into her own home complaining the snow has swallowed up the roads. It's only natural for Jimmy to stay, one more bodyguard for Nucky's precious cargo.
The five eat dinner together, an odd grouping. The woman leads grace and Jimmy eyes the family with their heads bent and fingers knotted together. His eyes find Richard sitting across from him and the two men do not pray. They eye each other and remember and that is their prayer. Richard's eye is warm and soft and Jimmy feels sudden heat at his cheeks. The woman mostly talks to her children and Richard. Jimmy and Richard are content with watching one another through mouthfuls of food. Hands that once pulled at corpses, got snared in barbed wire and shot countless enemies until their bodies dissolved away are reduced to scraping knives and forks on plates, dabbing corners of mouths with napkins and wiping crumbs out of their laps.
The family retires after a time. Silently like they know each other's thoughts Jimmy follows Richard up to his room. His footfalls are close on Richard's shadow, his breathing in time to Richard's movements. Richard's room is small and cold. Candles burnt down to the wick litter the sill, porcelain wax encrusted in the corners, the swollen spilled drips frozen in time. There are tools and rusty things scattered on the floor. Dirty, oily rags and broken odds and bits that Richard is probably trying to fix. The one lamp on the table is flickering, shadows growing and shrinking, faint light warbling like a dream.
Jimmy catches Richard's wrist. He inches his fingers up slowly feeling the delicate bones and taught muscle and Richard looks over his shoulder at him. Jimmy applies pressure and tugs a little. Richard turns around and Jimmy runs his forefinger and thumb across the one side of Richard's chin. Richard closes his eye and shudders at his the touch. Jimmy presses in closer and removes Richard's glasses and mask. His fingers lose themselves in his dark, thick hair and he kisses the deep scars and lines that riddle the left side of his face. The shapes etched into his skin are like the trenches and Jimmy wants them to forget. He nuzzles his nose into Richard's warm cheek and kisses under his eye and the hefty hole left there. Richard's arms wind around Jimmy's back and he releases a pleasurable sound so unlike his normal gruff and broken speech. Richard's fingers suddenly trace the outline of Jimmy's heart and Jimmy feels something overflow inside. He brushes his lips to Richard's and Richard sighs.
Jimmy pulls him in closer, deepening their kiss and Richard is all around him. Richard's deft hands touch at Jimmy's arms and back, dusting his cheek and finally resting on his neck massaging gently. Jimmy sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip, licking into Richard's mouth needy and desperate. He explores all the intimate crevices and valleys inside Richard's warm mouth, massaging his tongue to his. The once cold room is suddenly blazon with heat as Richard's large hands rest on Jimmy's narrow hips, his fingers outlining his hip bone. Jimmy slows them down by kissing at the corner of Richard's mouth.
He takes Richard's wrist again and leads them to the small bed. The snow is swirling and catching on the pane, crusting it over and encasing them in time. Jimmy undresses them slowly and he helps them forget the details of the war by paying intimate attention to the secret places hidden in Richard's skin. He kisses him and enters him everywhere he can, pushing out the nightmares by pushing himself into him in its place and finding hidden truths.
Afterwards they lay together in a tangle of limbs, blankets piled on top of them. Richard rests his face in the crook of Jimmy's neck. Jimmy strokes and plays with Richard's dark curls that are splayed out on the white pillow. He whispers nonsense to him, kissing the tears from his eye and soothes him. He holds him close until Jimmy can feel Richard's whole body relax and uncoil, his eyelash fluttering on Jimmy's cheek, his breathing slow and even. He watches snow until it breathes its last breath and the world again is still. He lets Richard's warmth envelop him into the small hours and he knows there won't be any more bad dreams.