Author's Notes: Set during the season finale, Almost Thirty Years. In Taipei, Jack comforts Will after his release. The title and beginning quotes are from the song "Here Comes the Flood", by Peter Gabriel; it was on the soundtrack of the Alias pilot ep. Thanks to Celli and Gail for the beta.
All the strange things
they come and go, as early warnings
Stranded starfish have no place to hide
still waiting for the swollen Easter tide
There's no point in direction we cannot
even choose a side.
"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. His gratitude stings more than the sight of his bruises, the bloodstains on his face, the tears glazing his eyes. I feel his chin 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. Considering how fast I react to the most unexpected situations, it's strange how long I take to notice Will bleeding his emotion through his tears.
I 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 excruciating hours. I have stood by and watched too many tortures before. I close my eyes and imagine Will sitting in that chair, and a wild spike of anguish shears through me. My eyes flash open again.
To my surprise, he doesn't move away from me. He remains pliant, limp, leaning against me for support. I awkwardly pat his back, feeling foolish and wishing I've had more practice with giving comfort. But I've never even learned how to comfort myself.
And how can 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." When he asked me what it was, I replied that he didn't need to know anything more. I promised him I would protect him, that I would be monitoring the situation the whole time. But the situation slipped away from me, and I failed. 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."
Fresh anguish lances through me at the broken tone of his voice. God, he's a wreck. He's trembling violently against me, his body shaking from whatever they did to him, the pain and drugs and fear they forced upon 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 slowly, pulling him close. The acrid smell of blood and sweat and grime from his body is thick, stifling, making me feel sick — but not because of the odor. In my life, I've been in many dark places of this world. I've spent an entire night 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," he whispers desperately, "all the time. Don't leave me alone again, Jack. Please."
I gently extricate myself from his grip, 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 say intensely, my hands tightening on his shoulders. He nods, blinking back tears as he tries to regain his composure, 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. The drugs they shot into him dulled his senses; and at this moment I want to kill the bastard who did this to him. Slowly. I clench my teeth to calm myself, as I touch Will's arm lightly. "Will, you're safe now. No one's going to hurt you any more." 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. I help him along, touching him gingerly, not knowing if more bruises are concealed under his shirt. Each step taken 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 is staring straight ahead, looking numbed, and his shoulders slump with exhaustion. 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.
And this time, I'll keep my promise.
- fin -
Feedback: I would love to hear your comments.