Age of Innocence
By: Amy Jonas
Category: Jimmy and Yves angst, romance
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: They're not mine no matter how much I wish upon a star.
Archive: Want it, take, let me know
Summary: "Everything is so mixed up. My gut tells me what I did was wrong. It even feels wrong." He shook his head and looked at her, "but I would do it again."
"Let her go!"
Jimmy's hands were steady as he shouted the warning but the smuggler, and even Yves herself didn't think he would pull the trigger. She saw it in his eyes - those beautiful innocent blue eyes that crinkled with laughter at silly cartoons - he believed the smuggler would obey his command and release her. The police would cart him off to jail and they would celebrate with the guys, another job well done.
The smuggler laughed and raised the gleaming knife to her throat. Jimmy's hesitation was so brief it was almost non-existent. She heard the explosion of the gun, the acrid smell of sulphur, the dull thud of the smuggler hitting the ground.
"Yves, are you ok?" He engulfed her in his embrace.
"I'm fine." She held him, wanting to protect him from the next few minutes; to shield him from the pain she knew would cut through him when he realized what he had done. He had seen so much in his time with the Gunmen. Each cruelty he witnessed had chipped away at his endearing innocence that she wanted to spare him this pain; to carry the burden for him but knew it was impossible.
When he saw the lifeless body, he froze. His eyes drifted to the gun in his hand; forgotten in his haste to make sure she was safe. Her heart broke for him when she saw the realization in his eyes.
He had killed a man.
The gun clattered to the pavement.
The cavalry arrived then, full of bluster and commotion. Jimmy stood silent as Doggett raced to the body, checking for a pulse and shouting orders. Langly took one look at the blood and turned away, cracking jokes. Yves fielded questions from Byers even as she muscled Jimmy past everyone. Frohike tried to stop her but one look at Jimmy's shell-shocked expression and he understood. She informed him she was taking Jimmy home then swept him toward her car.
The drive back to the warehouse, he sat with his hands in his lap, staring out at some distant point. She wished he would speak or cry but he had gone numb, his minds way of protecting him from the truth. At the lair, he moved mechanically, letting her lead him inside. She sat him at the kitchen table then rummaged in the cabinets until she found Frohike's' hidden bottle of Scotch.
She poured a shot and put it in his hands. "Drink this."
Through the haze, he did as she ordered, gulping the liquid. She poured him another and he downed that too. Watching carefully for any sign the numbness that had taken hold of him was abating, she started to pour another shot.
"No more," he whispered hoarsely.
He clutched the glass so tightly; his knuckles turned white. Worried he might shatter the glass and cut himself, she pushed it away and took his hands in hers.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He stared at their entwined hands. His hands trembling in hers. His voice hitched but when he spoke, his voice remained steady. "I never fired a gun outside the shooting range before."
"I know," Yves said softly.
He pressed her hand to his lips. "All I could think of was that he had a knife to your throat. He could have killed you. He was going to."
"He didn't."
He swallowed. "Because I killed him." He let go of her hands and stood up. "Everything is so mixed up. My gut tells me what I did was wrong. It even feels wrong." He shook his head and looked at her, "but I would do it again."
Yves half smiled and stood up. "You are a courageous man, Jimmy Bond."
"Courageous?" Jimmy stared at her. "Why; because I was able to take a life so easily?" He swiped his eyes with his hand and took a deep, shaky breath.
"No," Yves said firmly, "because it was so difficult for you to do so. It went against everything you believe in but you did it to save me." She went to him and touched his face. "Thank you."
He smiled briefly. "How do you do it, Yves? How do you deal with killing someone?"
She frowned. "I didn't. For years, I didn't deal with it. To my father, killing was a part of life as natural as breathing. To survive, I tried to treat it as such. I buried everything deep inside me and moved on."
"And that worked?"
"No. I had nightmares about the people I killed. Each time, it felt as if I was reliving their murders for the first time. But mostly I saw their eyes; the sudden shock of understanding that they were going to die; the fear, the horror." She saw the guilt and understanding in Jimmy's eyes and her heart wept for him. "It had gotten so terrible I had no choice but to face my actions."
"Then they stopped?" There was a desperate hopeful note in his voice.
"They lessened. I still have nightmares but they are not as intense." She looked away from him and focused on the half empty whiskey bottle on the kitchen table.
"Yves?"
She felt the comforting warmth of his hand on her arm. She turned around, knowing he would see her demons in her eyes. "I've never told anyone about the nightmares before. It was too dangerous."
His sweet face filled with sorrow. "You're safe with me." They held each other and he wept silently for them both.
Later that night, the terrified cry woke Yves. She quickly turned to Jimmy next to her. Though asleep, he moved restlessly, his voice agitated as he called her name. She pressed her hand to his face and kissed his temple. "Shhhhhhh. I'm here, baby. You're safe with me."
She continued to stroke his hair, whispering to him until he calmed. Yves watched him for a moment then lay back down, nestling against his chest. Instinctively, he encircled her in his arms. Her last thought before drifting to sleep was that their demons wouldn't return tonight.
The End
By: Amy Jonas
Category: Jimmy and Yves angst, romance
Rating: PG
Disclaimers: They're not mine no matter how much I wish upon a star.
Archive: Want it, take, let me know
Summary: "Everything is so mixed up. My gut tells me what I did was wrong. It even feels wrong." He shook his head and looked at her, "but I would do it again."
"Let her go!"
Jimmy's hands were steady as he shouted the warning but the smuggler, and even Yves herself didn't think he would pull the trigger. She saw it in his eyes - those beautiful innocent blue eyes that crinkled with laughter at silly cartoons - he believed the smuggler would obey his command and release her. The police would cart him off to jail and they would celebrate with the guys, another job well done.
The smuggler laughed and raised the gleaming knife to her throat. Jimmy's hesitation was so brief it was almost non-existent. She heard the explosion of the gun, the acrid smell of sulphur, the dull thud of the smuggler hitting the ground.
"Yves, are you ok?" He engulfed her in his embrace.
"I'm fine." She held him, wanting to protect him from the next few minutes; to shield him from the pain she knew would cut through him when he realized what he had done. He had seen so much in his time with the Gunmen. Each cruelty he witnessed had chipped away at his endearing innocence that she wanted to spare him this pain; to carry the burden for him but knew it was impossible.
When he saw the lifeless body, he froze. His eyes drifted to the gun in his hand; forgotten in his haste to make sure she was safe. Her heart broke for him when she saw the realization in his eyes.
He had killed a man.
The gun clattered to the pavement.
The cavalry arrived then, full of bluster and commotion. Jimmy stood silent as Doggett raced to the body, checking for a pulse and shouting orders. Langly took one look at the blood and turned away, cracking jokes. Yves fielded questions from Byers even as she muscled Jimmy past everyone. Frohike tried to stop her but one look at Jimmy's shell-shocked expression and he understood. She informed him she was taking Jimmy home then swept him toward her car.
The drive back to the warehouse, he sat with his hands in his lap, staring out at some distant point. She wished he would speak or cry but he had gone numb, his minds way of protecting him from the truth. At the lair, he moved mechanically, letting her lead him inside. She sat him at the kitchen table then rummaged in the cabinets until she found Frohike's' hidden bottle of Scotch.
She poured a shot and put it in his hands. "Drink this."
Through the haze, he did as she ordered, gulping the liquid. She poured him another and he downed that too. Watching carefully for any sign the numbness that had taken hold of him was abating, she started to pour another shot.
"No more," he whispered hoarsely.
He clutched the glass so tightly; his knuckles turned white. Worried he might shatter the glass and cut himself, she pushed it away and took his hands in hers.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He stared at their entwined hands. His hands trembling in hers. His voice hitched but when he spoke, his voice remained steady. "I never fired a gun outside the shooting range before."
"I know," Yves said softly.
He pressed her hand to his lips. "All I could think of was that he had a knife to your throat. He could have killed you. He was going to."
"He didn't."
He swallowed. "Because I killed him." He let go of her hands and stood up. "Everything is so mixed up. My gut tells me what I did was wrong. It even feels wrong." He shook his head and looked at her, "but I would do it again."
Yves half smiled and stood up. "You are a courageous man, Jimmy Bond."
"Courageous?" Jimmy stared at her. "Why; because I was able to take a life so easily?" He swiped his eyes with his hand and took a deep, shaky breath.
"No," Yves said firmly, "because it was so difficult for you to do so. It went against everything you believe in but you did it to save me." She went to him and touched his face. "Thank you."
He smiled briefly. "How do you do it, Yves? How do you deal with killing someone?"
She frowned. "I didn't. For years, I didn't deal with it. To my father, killing was a part of life as natural as breathing. To survive, I tried to treat it as such. I buried everything deep inside me and moved on."
"And that worked?"
"No. I had nightmares about the people I killed. Each time, it felt as if I was reliving their murders for the first time. But mostly I saw their eyes; the sudden shock of understanding that they were going to die; the fear, the horror." She saw the guilt and understanding in Jimmy's eyes and her heart wept for him. "It had gotten so terrible I had no choice but to face my actions."
"Then they stopped?" There was a desperate hopeful note in his voice.
"They lessened. I still have nightmares but they are not as intense." She looked away from him and focused on the half empty whiskey bottle on the kitchen table.
"Yves?"
She felt the comforting warmth of his hand on her arm. She turned around, knowing he would see her demons in her eyes. "I've never told anyone about the nightmares before. It was too dangerous."
His sweet face filled with sorrow. "You're safe with me." They held each other and he wept silently for them both.
Later that night, the terrified cry woke Yves. She quickly turned to Jimmy next to her. Though asleep, he moved restlessly, his voice agitated as he called her name. She pressed her hand to his face and kissed his temple. "Shhhhhhh. I'm here, baby. You're safe with me."
She continued to stroke his hair, whispering to him until he calmed. Yves watched him for a moment then lay back down, nestling against his chest. Instinctively, he encircled her in his arms. Her last thought before drifting to sleep was that their demons wouldn't return tonight.
The End
