Summary: Hobbes has risked his life for the team. Misplaced gratitude triggers the guilty confession, and Erica finds out what Hobbes has done.

Spoilers: 2x06, 2x07

Rated T for language

The End Of This Chapter

A bump. That's what woke him up. A bump on the road.

Hobbes' brain processed this fact slowly. It meant he was in a moving car, in the passenger seat. He did not remember how he'd gotten there.

Why was he so groggy? He tried to stir, and found it difficult, his body sapped of all energy. He became aware, very quickly after that, of an intense pain in his abdomen. It was a familiar feeling. He'd been injured before.

"Kyle?"

He could hear Erica's voice, calling to him sharply through his mental haze. It got louder when he forced himself to concentrate.

"Kyle?"

"What happened?" he croaked, regretting the choice to make any sound at all. It made the pain worse, and he almost passed out again.

"You were stabbed, Kyle." Erica's voice said, somewhere beside him.

Oh. She's driving.

So authoritative, her tone.

She's a good leader, that one.

"I need you to stay awake." Erica said, still harsh with her orders.

He felt like his brain was floating. "No promises." he rasped, though now that he'd become aware of that pain, it'd be hard to fall asleep again anyway.

She took his quip as a good sign. His wound wasn't as bad as it looked.

He was reclined, his head below the level of the window. He felt the car turn, and then jerk to a stop. His first instinct was to shout at her about the pain, but then he remembered how much worse he deserved. He'd suffer in silence, for her.

Erica helped walk him to the cabin. She put his arm over her shoulders, practically carrying him all the way. Every time she touched him he felt smaller. Ever since he'd detonated the bombs. And now she was carrying him. He had no choice but to let her; he was too vulnerable with the wound. It felt like he was forcing an angel to carry a rotting corpse.

Hobbes glanced up, to see where they were headed. Joe's cabin. She'd mentioned it before. It was hers, now that Joe was gone.

They made it up the front steps, and that felt like a triathlon in itself to Hobbes.

"To the bed." Erica encouraged him, her voice dangerously soft. "We're almost there."

When she laid him down, he squeezed her arm very hard, overcome by the pain. He still didn't cry out. "Jack's on his way." Erica explained. "He'll patch you up until we can get a doctor we trust."

"The mattress - " Hobbes strained to form the words. He didn't want to get it bloody.

"Lie down and stay quiet." she ordered. "Jack's bringing something for the pain. Until then..."

I'll think of you. Hobbes thought as she trailed off. I'll think of you.

He was in and out of consciousness, exhaustion causing sleep and the sudden pain of any small movement causing instant alertness.

"Jesus...Christ-" he growled as Jack cleaned him up. Jack let him take His name in vain without comment. Even the most devout would call to Him in a situation like this.

"It was deep," said Jack, comforting him. "But you'll survive."

Erica stood by, arms crossed, brow furrowed, and silent. After what felt like forever to all three of them, Jack was done, and Hobbes tried to breathe evenly.

"Rest now." said Erica. And then she and Jack left him alone.

Hours later, after an involuntary nap, Hobbes woke again. The first thing he saw was the leader of the 5th Column, sitting next to his bed, her gaze resting on him as if she'd been watching him the entire time. He was on his back, two blankets pulled up to his chest even though it was a hot day. He felt too hot, but he didn't want to push them off, and he was too proud to ask.

He waited, but she didn't say anything. She looked very serious, the way she had since Joe and Eli...

She barely smiled anymore, even when she was making a joke, and when she did it was mirthless. She'd never smiled much at him to begin with, her joy reserved for the priest, the only true friend she had left in the group.

"I hope I didn't talk in my sleep." he said.

Just because she never smiled - and just because it was in large part his fault - didn't mean he couldn't try.

"You were out cold." said Erica.

"Jack must have given me something good. I can barely feel it."

Erica shrugged one shoulder, and offered another reason. "You're tough."

Hobbes chuckled, but he stifled it. The pain was still very present.

"I wanted to thank you." said Erica, even more serious than before. Shit. thought Hobbes. He wasn't sure he could take any gratitude from her. Not now. Not when he had nowhere to go, no task to turn back to after dismissing her.

"Whatever for?" he sighed, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. He grunted quietly, as a particularly strong shooting pain affected him.

"Here," said Erica. She stood and retrieved some wrapped gauze and tape from the dresser next to the bed. "I'll change the dressing before the meds wear off completely."

He watched her approach. She pulled the blanket away from his chest, and he glanced down at the bandage Jack had given him. It was neat, but he'd begun to bleed through it. When she started to peel the tape away, Hobbes looked up at her face, ignoring the pain and staring selfishly at her eyes and mouth. She kept her eyes on her work.

"Where's the padre?" Hobbes asked.

"In the living room." she said. The hint of a smirk returned. "Why?" she asked. "You don't trust me?"

Hobbes smirked through the pain. She had a very tender touch.

"No, I trust you." he said. "I just don't want him to interrupt."

He could see her expression lighten just so, and he realized he'd opened the door to her gratitude again. His flirting used to annoy her. Now it seemed to cheer her up.

You selfish bastard, what have you done?

"I was serious before." she said. "About thanking you."

She was peeling the rest of the tape off very slowly. He almost told her to rip it off all at once, but he didn't dare interrupt.

"When we first asked you to join the 5th Column, you were very resistant to what we were trying to do. I wasn't sure I would ever gain your respect as a leader, especially with me being a woman, and you being...you. I have a hard enough time at work, where people are at least paid to do what I tell them."

Hobbes watched her face as she finished peeling the tape off, pulled the old gauze away and turned to her fresh supply. He wasn't ready when she turned back to him, and looked right into his eyes. Her eyes burned him.

"You stood up for us." she said. "You've been there for us, and you prove it every day." She was back to her task, laying the gauze down gently. "I'm sorry taking a Visitor knife to the gut had to be one of the ways you do that. I just want you to know we appreciate it. We couldn't do this without you." She tore a piece of tape, securing one side of the gauze carefully to his body. "I couldn't do it without you." she admitted. "The way you had my back in Hong Kong -"

"Erica." Hobbes reached for one of her wrists, and held it tight. Interrupted, she froze and looked at him, wondering what was wrong. She waited, but he didn't say anything. He didn't know if he'd be able to say what was on his mind.

Erica chuckled under her breath, cautiously bitter. "I'm pouring my heart out here." she reminded him sheepishly. It was precisely why he'd stopped her. He couldn't take any more.

"I set off the explosion that killed Cohn." he blurted.

There. That was it. No more Hobbes in the 5th Column. No more Kyle and Erica. He could see her eyes grow ice cold, and her soft smirk went completely flat. She didn't understand yet - how could she, when she thought things were going so well?

"I was given a detonator." he said. "The Visitors gave it to me. They told me when and where to press the button. And I did it."

Her entire body had gone rigid. He knew she wanted to pull away from his grasp, to get her wrist out of his hand, her body as far away from him as possible. She stared at him, too stunned to move.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, her voice hard and tightly controlled as a rage built up inside of her. She didn't want to hear any of it. The weight of his guilt had been lifted, now that she knew, but facing her as she found out gave him a much worse feeling. Much, much worse.

"Why are you telling me this?" she repeated, voice rising when he hesitated.

"Because life is short." he said harshly. "Shorter still when you do the things we do. I don't want either of us leaving this world thinking I'm a good man." He looked into her eyes, accepting her hate, willing her to hate him more. He'd been so god damned selfish, he was being selfish now, and he wanted her to hate him.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, the same she'd done with Ryan. Again, he hesitated, and Erica's rage grew. Somehow, from Hobbes, it was worse. She'd entertained romantic thoughts about him and they both knew it. If he said one word about being blackmailed, or that the Visitors were holding someone he loved hostage, she would snap. "Tyler's been with the god damn V's since day one, and I've managed to remain loyal to this group." Her anger rose a few more degrees, and her voice a few decibels. "Tell me why you did it."

"Same as Ryan." was all he could get out before she wrenched her arm away from him. She left his bandage half taped, and walked out of the room before she lost control. Jack had heard their raised voices, and he was waiting outside the room for her.

"Erica, what's wrong?" Jack asked, right before she slammed the door behind her. Hobbes laid his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes, wondering what the hell he'd just done. The rest of the cabin was quiet for a moment, until he heard something made of glass being thrown against the wall with the full strength of an irate woman. Then it was quiet again, for a long time.

Hobbes imagined Jack comforting Erica, the way only Jack seemed able. It would only hurt her to know it had all been his fault. It would only hurt the 5th Column to lose his membership. The only good it had done was for himself, to get it off his chest and put it squarely on Erica's shoulders. As if she needed more stress.

When the door opened again, it was Jack that entered the room. Hobbes already had issues with Jack's bleeding heart judgment of his life choices. He couldn't bear to look into his eyes now. Without saying a word, Jack walked over to him and tore another piece of tape from the roll on the dresser. He was going to finish securing the bandage.

"Why are you still helping me?" Hobbes asked, his own voice still ragged from all that had happened.

"Because," Jack said, calm but with the same controlled anger that Erica was feeling - it was more easily muted, since the explosion had taken less from him than it had from Erica. "No matter what anyone does to betray our trust, we are not monsters." Jack didn't want to look Hobbes in the eye either, but he did, and Hobbes felt his own betrayal even more acutely. Jack didn't hide the disappointment like Erica did. He wasn't afraid of it like Erica was, since he'd never fully trusted Hobbes in the first place. "We will never be monsters."

Jack was done with the bandage. He hadn't purposefully caused Hobbes any pain. He'd been very careful, in fact, to avoid hurting him. He was a better man. He would never be able to do what Hobbes could do in a difficult situation, but Jack would never have to make a damaging confession to the woman he loved.

Hobbes watched Jack leave the room, both backs turned to him now. In the morning he would limp out, leave them behind so they could build a better, stronger, more loyal team. Erica had Eli's people; she'd be able to do it without him now.