Title: Seven Days
Author: Sam-Tony
Fandom: Level 9
Pairing: Jack/Travis
Rating: FRM – slash, torture, h/c, angst
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made.
Summary: Everyone knows hackers don't work the field, so what happens when one does?
A/N: Another L9 bunny – this one actually nibbled first but, well, kink wins out over angst any day in my world…
Seven DaysEveryone knew that hackers didn't carry guns and they didn't work the field; it was a cardinal rule written down somewhere in the hacker digital equivalent of stone. Even if the hacker in question was quite capable in his own right to do both, it was still a rule that should never be broken because the consequence of a cover being blown and an op going wrong was just too horrible to imagine.
But Jack didn't have to imagine the thirteen stitches not quite hidden up by the dark hairline from a blitz attack made by a baseball bat, nor the brief but savage beating that had followed, landing Travis in the hospital for a couple of days while the rest of the team wrapped up the loose ends and plodded through the resulting mountain of paperwork that inevitably came when an agent was captured by a sadistically insane bad guy with nothing left to lose.
He didn't want to imagine the pain of the electric shock torture that had left a random scattering of contact burns over the kid's upper torso and lower back; burns that should heal without too much scarring, which was something at least. Travis didn't need the constant reminder of what the bastard did to him staring him in the face day after day.
As the houseboat swayed gently, occasionally bumping softly against the dock, Jack Wiley stared down at the young man sleeping in his bed, a glass of whiskey in one hand, the other held to his head as if to hold back the headache forming behind his eyes. No matter how he tried to deny them, two thoughts looped endlessly behind the pain, egging it on.
Travis could have died. And Jack could have lost him.
That was the reason for the alcohol that burned down his throat, a fact for which Jack was grateful since he could use that as an excuse for the tears that blurred his vision as he watched the even rise and fall of the bare chest half obscured by the white cotton sling. Travis had been half unconscious by the time they had raided the warehouse, but it had been the shock combined with impending hypothermia as much as the broken arm and stitches that had held the hacker in the hospital for an extra day, giving Jack time to think; time to work through the intense rage that had gripped him at the sight of the kid hanging by the wrists from the rafters in chains.
Cromby had stripped Travis naked, intending on letting the shock and the cold rolling in from the bay do his dirty work for him now that he had had his fun. Jack never remembered throwing the terrorist into the far wall; neither did he remember pulling his gun, or shoving the barrel into his mouth. He did remember fully intending on pulling the trigger. It had only been the croak of his name coming from chapped lips that had brought Jack back from the brink of cold-blooded murder.
Even now, just the memory of Travis wrapped in an EMS blanket, limping and needing Tibbs' support but determined to get to him before he actually pulled that trigger was enough to renew the killing rage that finding the younger man had evoked.
Sprawling back in the armchair with a sigh, Wiley was surprised to find his glass empty so he poured himself another, though he let the glass dangle from his fingers and didn't make a move to take a sip. He had been thinking about the kid since that moment; hadn't been able to avoid the sharp pang of loss that had hit him, growing thick and hard in his throat at the thought that a few paltry minutes had been the only thing standing between finding Travis alive and losing him forever.
The fact was, that pain had everything to do with the feelings he had been trying to deny feeling for the boy and had everything and nothing to do with Jack's sudden crisis of conscience. He wanted the boy, that much he could admit; he had known and accepted that for a while now. Travis was a geek, sure, but he was also funny and cocky and sexy as hell when in his own element. Jack could admit that from a distance without having to do anything about it. Without having to get involved.
But then his world had been rocked to its foundations when the first name out of the kid's mouth had been his; Travis grabbing a hand full of his jacket and refusing to let go until Jack had promised to stay until the drugs kicked in and allowed him to sleep. When Wiley had woken up hours later, still bunched up in that uncomfortable torture chamber passing as a hospital chair, he knew he was in big trouble.
And had some serious thinking to do.
Because, if the desperate need only partially masked by the fear in the dark eyes was anything to go by, it was clear that Travis felt the same way about him. Hence the two day thinking binge that had yielded Travis staying with him when he got out of the hospital, but very little else in the way of answers.
However, one thing was painfully clear; things were about to change.
A snuffle from the bed brought Jack out of his thoughts to see Travis moaning up out of a nightmare. Jack downed the rest of the whiskey and was there before the terror had a chance to take hold.
A hand on the bare shoulder satisfied him that Travis wasn't cold; a constant worry for them since the doctor warned about pneumonia until his body recovered from the trauma. "Hey kid, it's ok. I'm here."
"J – Jack?"
Scared dark eyes blinked sleepily at him from under a disheveled curtain of curls and Jack felt his heart melt as his throat tightened at the fear and confusion in the soft call. "Yeah, kid, I'm here."
He could see the moment the 'I don't want to be alone' turned into the "I – don't want to go back to sleep."
"Here – scoot over kid." Jack told him gently, climbing under the covers behind him as Travis obediently moved over, shivering at the cooler air Jack brought with him. He shook his head - here they were worried about pneumonia and the kid decides to stay with Jack on his houseboat.
At least he thought it might be the night air though Travis didn't say. But he didn't pull away or tense as Jack spooned in behind him, easing one arm under his head as the other draped over his waist to share body heat. Travis adjusted his arm in the sling and settled in a second later, wriggling down into the mattress as Jack pulled the blankets back up over them.
He couldn't help the low rumble of his voice as he asked quietly, "This okay?" Or the smile that came at the slightly breathy squeak of, "Fine," he received in return.
"Good to know. Get some sleep, Travis." Greatly daring, Jack pressed his lips to one ear in a light kiss, promising firmly, "I've got you."
"You won't leave? I mean – you won't go anywhere?"
"No, I'm not going anywhere."
Travis settled in and held Jack's arm against him under the sling, as if to make sure that promise was a good one. "Good."
Wiley chuckled. "Go to sleep, kid."
"Sleeping, I'm sleeping…"
Hearing the sharp breathing immediately even out as the drugs kicked in again, Jack placed another chaste kiss into the dark hair and smiled. His own seven day rule about relationships never stood a chance.
"Good night, Travis."
End