This chapter is dedicated to Crocodilepatronus for her birthday. 3 you!
Jimmy returned after breakfast had ended. He appeared composed, but too much so- his face a mask of detached concentration- the expression he normally wore only in the dining room while serving.
Thomas watched him whenever he was able. He knew he shouldn't; he usually made an effort to keep his eyes off the other man, for the sake of his comfort in their friendship- but he could not help himself after everything that had happened. He watched Jimmy in the kitchen, taking up trays of breakfast food for the family silently. He watched Jimmy return, flexing his gloved hands before picking up another tray, and Thomas remembered the burn on his hands.
Silver, Thomas thought. The trays- and nearly everything else he touches- it's all silver.
His knowledge on the subject was limited, and based on myths and old wives tales, but he'd heard enough about werewolves to recognize the signs- or the symptoms, as it were. He had a book in his room with a tale of a werewolf, and he itched for a spare moment to retrieve it. It was a poorly written collection of short stories from some periodical, and the werewolf story itself was little more than the story of a man on horseback being chased through the woods by a fur-covered man with fangs. But even so, he felt compelled to pore over it, to find any hint of truth in it at all, and compare it to what he'd seen the night before.
Thomas could not shake the sense of dread that filled him, however- especially not after the news of the attack the night before. If Jimmy was ever caught- No, he could not ever let Jimmy be caught, because it would mean his death, surely, especially if he was caught mauling villagers. Just thinking about it filled him with a cold fear so intense that it took the breath from his lungs for a moment. Protecting Jimmy became the most important thing in the space of a few hours. He would do whatever he could to keep Jimmy from getting caught, even if it meant chasing him around the woods all night.
But if Jimmy remembered Thomas being with him the night before, he made no indication that he would acknowledge it. Thomas suspected that Jimmy knew, when they made eye contact.
They passed by each other in a corridor, mid-morning, and Jimmy's eyes locked on to his. Thomas found his gaze so riveting that he did not think to utter any words in greeting; Jimmy's eyes were very light and reflected the dim light, almost. Like the eyes of the wolf, reflecting a flash of lightning in the darkness.
Jimmy passed by him too close; their elbows brushed, and the noise of fabric on fabric was the only sound besides the constant, muted din of the rain. Jimmy nodded at him when they touched, and that was all. But it again had the same effect on Thomas as when Jimmy had touched him the day before, or locked eyes with him at breakfast. His heart raced. His breath caught in his throat. His skin flushed, overwarm in the muggy air. Thomas reasoned that he'd feel positively about Jimmy touching him- or looking at him- in almost any scenario. But there something about it now, something that stayed with him, something significant. An electric charge.
A few hours later, Jimmy sat next to him at the table with his lunch, his plate loaded up with all sorts of food- a sandwich, a bit of leftover meat pie, a bowl of ham and potato soup. Jimmy had all but skipped breakfast, and had missed the servant's meal by ten minutes with all the work Carson was giving him to make up for his night off, but Thomas suspected that Jimmy had other reasons to eat so much at once- he's trying to avoid attacking anyone tonight, perhaps? The thought was uncomfortable for Thomas, but he couldn't begin to imagine how Jimmy felt about it.
"Hello." Jimmy said, meeting Thomas's eyes for the third time that day, but a bit sheepishly.
Thomas felt a little thrill chase through him when Jimmy settled into his chair next to his; the table was nearly empty, save for Anna at the far corner, who was bent over a frayed hem with a needle and thread.
Thomas nodded in greeting, hoping his face didn't betray his thoughts. He wasn't sure how to reveal to Jimmy that he knew- if Jimmy really couldn't remember the night before- but he figured the last place to tell him was in the servant's hall. He tried his usual tactic- to not overstep the bounds of friendship. Even if he chooses to sit next to you, or touch you when you're alone, Thomas thought, but even just the thought made his breath hitch.
"Hello." He managed, working a neutral expression on to his face and grasping for his cigarettes on the table, to give his hands something to do. "Going out soon?" He asked, lighting a cigarette.
"Yes." Jimmy answered, glancing at the windows anxiously. "In a few hours, yet." He picked at his food with his fork, listlessly. Thomas wondered what it was that Jimmy wanted, from physical contact with him, from the nearness. After two years of vague hostilities and fumbling conversation- that now he wanted Thomas's closeness, or affection-
No, but it's not like that, so don't think it, Thomas told himself, firmly. You already know what he wants.
He thought of the wolf, the night before. A creature vicious enough to rip apart other animals, and capable of wandering into the village to attack grown men- but it had been kind to him, it had trusted him, even, with Jimmy's secret, even if Jimmy could not recall.
He wants you to know. He wants a confidant. Because he knows you can be trusted.
And it was true, in a way- Thomas had never thought of himself as overwhelmingly trustworthy, and he had not been, in the past. Given the right set of circumstances, he was sure that he could betray almost any secret told to him. Except for Jimmy's secrets, of course. That he would- could never do- he would take them to the grave before he gave them away. Especially this one.
"How're your hands?" Thomas asked, when he noticed that Jimmy had removed his gloves. The fork he'd brought with him from the kitchen was tarnished and old- steel, Thomas thought, maybe. The usual cutlery downstairs was silver plated.
"They're alright. The salve did help, thank you." Jimmy swallowed a mouthful of pie, and shook his head. He held up his left hand. "It was just this one, though."
"Oh, right." Thomas answered, watching Jimmy turn the palm of his right hand away from him, so that Thomas could not see the burns he suspected were visible. It made Thomas's stomach drop and chest ache to think of Jimmy hurting himself, over and over- burning himself on things that he had to touch for his very livelihood.
Jimmy sighed wearily, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment. "Carson's working me like a dog-" He said, but then snapped his mouth shut abruptly at his own words. His eyes flicked over to Thomas and then away, and he shifted in his seat.
"Oh?" Thomas asked, feigning nonchalance.
Across the table, Anna pushed her chair away from the table. Jimmy jumped a bit at the sound, dropping his fork on to his table.
"Will you watch my sewing for a moment?" Anna asked, as she passed by them on her way out of the servant's hall.
"Watch it do what?" Thomas asked, lowly, and Jimmy chuckled next to him. Anna rolled her eyes at them- the barest hint of a smile touching the corner of her lips, but continued on her way out of the room.
Jimmy glanced around over his shoulder at her retreat, as though to check that she was out of earshot, before turning back to the table. "Thomas," Jimmy said, quietly, and Thomas looked over at him, to see Jimmy glancing up at him, warily.
Despite himself, Thomas's pulse spiked when Jimmy used his given name- the times he had before were infrequent and deliberate. "What is it?" Thomas asked him, stilling his hands in their attempt to reach out towards the other man.
Jimmy sighed again, reaching up to push his hair away from his forehead. It fell back down over his eyes in disarray, only adding to his disheveled appearance. It did nothing to diminish his attractiveness, however, and his light eyes were so captivating to Thomas that he could not look away, even though he knew he should.
"Thomas," Jimmy repeated, shifting his chair a bit closer to Thomas's. "The thing is- well," He swallowed, and placed his right hand on the tabletop, palm up. "I've got burns on both hands, now."
Thomas hissed, involuntarily, at the sight of Jimmy's burns. He brought his fingers up to Jimmy's hand and pressed them against an unburnt section of his palm, tilting it towards the light. Jimmy's hand was more raw than burned, seeing it close up. His fingertips and the heel of his palm were red, as though he'd pressed his hand flat against wet ink and it had stained his skin. It's how he holds the silver trays, Thomas thought.
"Ah-" Thomas withdrew his hand quickly when he realized how long he'd been touching Jimmy, rubbing his palm against his jacket reflexively, as though he could almost feel the burn himself. "Sorry."
"It's alright." Jimmy answered, his voice low but steady. His eyes were still fixed on Thomas's face when he looked over. Thomas's heart skipped a beat.
"Perhaps you need a thicker pair of gloves?" Thomas suggested, his mind foggy from the skin and eye contact. His brain caught up with his words just as they were leaving his mouth. "I mean-"
Jimmy drew in a sharp breath. "Why do ya say that?"
"To protect your skin-" Thomas fumbled. "-from the heat."
"Oh." Jimmy answered, slowly. "Yes, I suppose that would help."
Jimmy straightened up suddenly, and Thomas realized how closely they'd been sitting, their heads bowed together in quiet conversation. He leaned away as well, hoping he had not made Jimmy uncomfortable with their physical proximity, and flicked the ash from his forgotten cigarette into his ash tray- but Carson appeared a moment later in the doorway, beckoning him off to sort through stacks of bills and payments due out.
Thomas was inordinately distracted while he worked. His thoughts alternated between abject fear for Jimmy's safety, dread at his leaving for the night, and arousal over the memories of his touch. He did his best to put those thoughts firmly out of his mind, which was relatively easy, with Carson for company, and the formless anxiety that overtook him soon after.
Don't attack anyone tonight. Thomas directed his thoughts at Jimmy, in vain. Don't go anywhere. Don't let anyone even see you, for god's sake.
Thomas stepped outside for a cigarette in the late afternoon, and for a change of scenery- his eyes ached from reading in the dim light of Carson's office. He stood under and overhang and watched the rain fall endlessly into the muddy puddles of the courtyard. There was a breeze, which Thomas welcomed, but it was just on the edge of uncomfortably warm, as if hinting of the summer weather the rain obscured.
Behind him, the door opened and closed, and Thomas turned to see Jimmy, who walked over to him, dressed in his grey suit. It was wrinkled a bit from being folded in the suitcase, and Thomas guessed that he would go nowhere but to the tree, to sit and wait.
"Leaving?" Thomas asked him, though the answer was obvious.
Jimmy nodded, his eyes lowered, as if in shame. "Yes."
Thomas inhaled off his cigarette, to distract himself from his own nerves. "Be careful. Dangerous animals out there," he said, nodding towards the woods.
Jimmy laughed once, nervously. "That's what they say," he answered, and Thomas could hear the shaking in his voice.
He wanted to say something, to tell Jimmy that he would come with him- although he couldn't run off, not when he'd promised to serve at dinner for Jimmy, and not without jeopardizing both of their jobs. He wanted to at least say that he'd find him later, after the sun set- but he couldn't bring himself to do it, when he didn't know if Jimmy wanted him to or not, or even if Jimmy knew he knew at all.
Jimmy stayed silent, and swallowed, lingering next to Thomas for a moment. And then he shook his head and waved. "I'll see you later." He said, and turned to leave.
"Yes, later." Thomas answered, and waved in return. He was so consumed with worry that his hands began to tremble as he watched Jimmy walk away, and he crossed his arms over his chest to still them.
I will find you later, he vowed to himself. And make sure you are safe.
After the sun had set, Thomas left the house for the rainsoaked grounds. He searched everywhere for Jimmy- around the courtyard and just outside it, where the rabbits had been left- in the woods, at the tree with the suitcase, which again held Jimmy's clothing- he even checked the shed he had locked Isis in, years back, on a whim- but Jimmy was nowhere to be found. It had been dark for at least an hour by the time he had finished with his work for the night, and it made his search that much harder. He glanced around frantically as he walked along, flicking his lighter periodically, hoping to catch the flash of eyes in the dark.
Hours later and at a loss for where else to look, Thomas reluctantly returned to the house, feeling sick with worry. He paced the floor of his room for a long while. Eventually, he forced himself to sit still for long enough to read through the werewolf story in his book, but he gleaned virtually no information from it- as he suspected- and resumed his quiet loops around the room. When exhaustion finally overtook him, he propped himself up against the open window and smoked, watching the clouds roll overhead.
I should be out there, he thought, feeling amiss- he had promised himself, more or less, to stay outside with Jimmy, and make sure he was alright. A few times, he made for the door, but helplessness overwhelmed him. It's so dark, and he could be anywhere, he thought, frustrated.
He wanted to sleep; the combination of two very late nights and the ever-present fear and anxiety made his limbs heavy and his mind slow- but he could not bring himself to move towards his bed, to do anything but sit up and wait. And it was made worse by the knowing that Jimmy would not be back before dawn- it made him feel like he could not rest until the sun made it's upward trek from the horizon, and Jimmy had returned to the safety of his bedroom.
What if he gets caught? What if this is the time he doesn't make it back? What if someone sees him and shoots at him? Thomas's mind was on an endless loop, repeating his fears, over and over.
Eventually, the monotony of his thoughts must have lulled him, and he nodded off against the windowsill, standing upright and braced on his folded arms. He was dimly aware of how he stood as he dozed from the twinge in his neck, but his thoughts carried him off to a dream; a half-memory, half delusional nightmare.
Thomas knelt among the pine needles beneath the tree, Jimmy's jacket clutched in his hands. Jimmy lay before him, as he had the morning before, but his hands and face were covered in blood. His lips were blue and his skin was pale. Thomas looked him over, and realized that his torso had been shot through with bullets, and the once-dry ground under the tree was soaked with his blood-
He gasped, and jerked awake. He was disoriented for a moment- he remembered the dream, having woken in the middle of it- but there was something else that he couldn't quite grasp, something he was forgetting. Chills ran down his spine.
He heard the howl of a wolf, very loud, and very close, as though it came from just out on the grounds. Thomas started, feeling the hairs on the back oh his neck raise, and he knew immediately that that had been what had woken him from his dream.
The wolf howled again, like the noise he had made at Thomas the night before, in the courtyard, only much louder. "WOOoooooooo...," it went, and trailed off, edged with an unmistakable note of pain.
"Oh god, no-" Thomas gasped, and was fully awake in an instant. He flew out of his room and down the stairs, past the servant's hall and out the door, into foggy pre-dawn air. He hesitated for a moment when he reached the edge of the courtyard, not knowing which direction the sound had come from.
"-Jimmy," he hissed, in a loud whisper, grimacing at himself. Yes, as though he'll hear you and calmly shout back his location, he thought. Still, the panic took him forward, heading blindly towards the treeline.
"Wooooo!" The wolf howled again, quieter this time, but much closer than before. Thomas spun around, breaking into a run towards a small copse of trees at the edge of the grounds. The noise put him on edge, even though he knew what- or who- it was from, but it was eerie, just the same, and it raised the hair on his arms. As he drew closer to the trees, he could hear the muffled sounds of whimpering and whines of pain. His shoes slipped over the wet grass as he picked up his pace, his feet nearly going out from under him as he ran.
He caught sight of the wolf standing by the trunk of the closest tree. He was standing awkwardly, with one of his front paws drawn up, though it was hard to see anything in the fog. The air was thick and hard to breathe, and Thomas dropped to his knees into the muddy grass when he finally reached Jimmy's side, panting.
The wolf limped forward, and Thomas saw the source of his pain; a spiked foothold trap was clamped above his paw, and the fur around it glistened with fresh blood even in the diffuse light of early morning. The spikes were ragged and rust covered, and a few dug deeply into the skin of his leg. Thomas hissed, still breathing heavily, and reached out, but the wolf shied away from his touch, whining.
"Stop it," Thomas breathed, and leaned forward, reaching for him again. "No, stop, come here."
"Aaooo." He made a soft noise, and staggered towards Thomas, bumping his head against Thomas's shoulder. Thomas noticed blood on his face too, and swallowed.
"Listen now, this is me," there was a tremor in his voice as he spoke. "I'm going to try not to hurt you, but I have to get that thing off of you, Jimmy. So don't bite me or anything."
He lifted his hands to the old, rusted trap. The wolf's paw trembled- in fact, he was trembling all over, and Thomas felt a pang of guilt. "If I'd just stayed out here, maybe I could have found you- dammit- and then this wouldn't've happened."
He took a deep breath, and grasped the wolf's foot in his hands. The blood was sticky, and warm, which meant it was still flowing freely, and the wolf made a sharp sound, and made as though he would jerk away from Thomas. Thomas looked up at him, into his eyes- which were so alike Jimmy's eyes normally; they seemed to convey a level of comprehension he'd never seen with an actual animal before.
"Alright, then," He said, studying the trap for a moment. The springs were very rusted and he doubted they would cooperate for long. "I'm going to pull this open. You have to pull your foot out quickly, because I don't know how long I can hold this thing open." He hoped the comprehension he'd seen in Jimmy's eyes was real, and not just wishful thinking.
Jimmy whuffed as if in response, and Thomas grasped both blades of the trap. "Don't bite me." He said again, and pulled hard on either side of the clamp. The hinges creaked open incrementally, and the wolf yelped as the spikes slid out of his leg. Thomas grimaced as blood poured over his fingers, making his grip slick, and he put all of his strength into opening it further. When his leg was clear of the blades, the wolf pulled his foot from it, and Thomas flung the blood-covered trap to the side before it could snap shut on his fingers.
Jimmy whined and slumped to the ground, holding the injured paw up. Thomas edged closer, cursing himself for not bringing any medical supplies with him. He stripped off his jacket, tossing it on to the damp grass at his side, and unbuttoned his shirt with slippery fingers.
"Alright, come here-" Thomas said, wrapping the shirt around Jimmy's leg tightly. He could see blood soak into it crisp whiteness of it immediately- but then, before his eyes, the fur gave way to skin, and the paw he held was a hand- and looking up, Jimmy was no longer a wolf, but was Jimmy again, huddled against the ground. His face was smeared with blood and his eyes were filled with tears of pain, and he looked up at Thomas, plaintively, with the silent expression of the wolf.
Thomas grabbed his coat from the grass and threw it over Jimmy, who clutched it around himself with his uninjured hand.
"Come on, get up, we've got to get you inside," Thomas insisted, too worried about Jimmy's injury to wait until he was ready.
"My clothes..." Jimmy said weakly, slowly drawing himself into a sitting position.
"Sod your clothes, you're bleeding everywhere and that trap was covered in rust, come on!" Thomas stood, wiping his hands on his undershirt, the only layer that still covered his top half. He reached a blood-stained hand down to Jimmy, who sighed wearily, and slipped his unhurt arm through the jacket sleeve. He tried the same with the other arm, but he cried out in pain when he moved his hand, and gave up, folding it in front of himself.
"Owww," he moaned, wincing, and grasped Thomas's outstretched hand, allowing himself to be pulled up from the ground. Thomas braced him as he wobbled on his feet. "You've probably lost a good amount of blood." he guessed, unable to check Jimmy's color in the dim light.
Jimmy nodded mutely, and tucked the other half of the jacket under his injured arm, holding it across himself with the opposite hand. The jacket was long enough, having been made for Thomas's height, that it covered Jimmy to mid-thigh- but his legs were bare and he was covered with blood and his hair was matted and wet from the rain. Thomas sincerely hoped that the howling had not woken anyone, so they could pass unnoticed upstairs. He had no idea what they would say if they were seen.
"Are you alright to walk?" Thomas asked Jimmy, holding on to his elbow.
Jimmy nodded again, his head bobbing slowly in the damp air. "Yes," he managed.
They began the slow trek back to their rooms. The house was still quiet and dark, and Thomas mentally crossed his fingers at every corner that there would be no one awake to see them. Jimmy was a bit woozy on his feet, but the shirt Thomas had wrapped around his arm was not completely soaked through with blood, which meant the bleeding must have been slowing down. Thomas kept his arm out to steady Jimmy on the stairs, and after a few long minutes of silence, they made it to just outside Jimmy's door.
"My room or your room?" Thomas asked him, and then grimaced at himself for the way the words had come out.
"Yours." Jimmy answered. Of course, Thomas thought, his stomach sinking. He doesn't want me in his room, not after the last time. "It's comforting," Jimmy went on, softly.
"What?" Thomas balked, sure he had misheard. "My room?"
Jimmy nodded silently, but turned to open his own door. "Just need to get something to wear," he mumbled.
Thomas nodded. "Right. I have get a few things. I'll be quick."
Thomas washed the blood of his hands and arms, and then gathered up the supplies he would need to clean Jimmy's wound; a bowl of warm water, a few clean towels, and the small medical kit that was kept in a closet in the hall. Jimmy was sitting on his bed when Thomas returned to his own room, shirtless, but wearing pyjama bottoms. He'd cleaned the blood off of his face and hands, but the injured arm was still tinged red around the tied shirt. It wasn't exactly the situation Thomas had hoped for when finding Jimmy half-clothed on his bed, but he put the thought out of his mind, and dragged the desk chair over to the bed, to use as a table.
"You know my secret, then." Jimmy said, solemnly, as Thomas sat next to him on the bed.
"Yes," Thomas said, taking Jimmy's injured hand in both of his. It was his left arm, of course- the one with his dominant hand, which would make working difficult. "I found you last night. Or I should say, you found me."
Jimmy swallowed, nodding. "I thought you might have been there, but the rain-" he broke off, wincing, when Thomas tugged on the knot of the shirt. "Ahh- god- I've never had an injury like this before-" he bit out, as Thomas got the knot free, and began to gently unwrap his arm.
"No?" Thomas asked him, trying to keep him distracted. Jimmy's face went pale when he saw the wound- and he took a few shallow breaths. "Don't look at it, just look somewhere else," Thomas told him, reaching over to the chair to wet a towel in the warm water. Jimmy set his eyes on the wall just over Thomas's shoulder.
The cuts around Jimmy's arm were ragged and still bleeding sluggishly. Jimmy hissed and tried to jerk his arm out of Thomas's grasp when the wet cloth touched the wounds, and Thomas looked up at him. "Stop doing that, will you?"
"Sorry," Jimmy answered tightly, his face scrunched up in pain.
Thomas could see a bit of white in a cut where the skin was close to the bone, and he looked up at Jimmy to distract him. "What about the rain?" He asked, continuing his work.
"What?" Jimmy asked, pain in his voice.
"The rain- you said you thought I'd been there, but something about the rain?" Thomas went on.
"Oh." Jimmy nodded, and flushed, bringing color back to his paled skin. "Yes, well- I mean, it sounds strange."
Thomas laughed and shook his head. "It all sounds strange, to be honest."
"Yes, I'm sure it does. It sounds strange to me and I'm the one living with it." Jimmy sighed and shook his head, his brows furrowing. He looked off to the side, his eyes travelling around the room. "It's just that- I thought I remembered you being there, but then, when I woke up, you were gone. And I thought you'd put the blanket over me, well you must have, right?" Thomas nodded at him, and Jimmy went on. "But because of the rain, I couldn't- I lost your- well- I couldn't smell where you'd gone- so I thought maybe you hadn't realized that- that it was me." He grimaced.
Thomas paused and looked up to the other man, surprised. "You can smell people? Now? Not just when you're..." He gestured in the air with his cloth.
"Yes." Jimmy couldn't seem to meet his eyes. "You must think it's disgusting- I'm some sort of beast now, or- or creature-"
"Werewolf." Thomas said.
"Yes." Jimmy sighed again, his shoulders slumping. "That. Werewolf."
Thomas shrugged. "I don't think you're disgusting, Jimmy." he told the other man, unable to keep his feelings for him from coloring the words with meaning. Jimmy mumbled something in reply, a vague affirmative, and flushed darker still.
"Well. What else can you do?" Thomas asked, after a moment of silence.
"What else can I do?" Jimmy asked him, his mouth dropped open.
"There must be something besides your great sense of smell." Thomas answered, and turned Jimmy's arm over in his hands. "You'll need stitches."
"O-oh?" Jimmy said, the tremor returning to his voice.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." Thomas answered. "I was a medic in the war, you know."
Jimmy nodded, his hand beginning to shake in Thomas's grasp. "Y-yes, I think I heard that b-before."
Thomas retrieved a small box of sterilized sutures and needles from the medical kit and set it on the bed to open it, but Jimmy reached over with his opposite hand and clasped Thomas's wrist in an iron grip.
Thomas looked up at him sharply. "It's got to be done, Jimmy," he said, but Jimmy shook his head, and fixed Thomas with a look of such heartbreaking sadness that it hurt Thomas to look at him. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, catching the golden light of the lamps.
"Things like this," Jimmy said, letting go of Thomas's wrist, and waving his hand at his other arm. "They're going to keep happening, aren't they?" He squeezed his eyes shut, and tears fell down his cheeks. "And someday, I'm going to wander off somewhere and get killed- and I'm going to lose my job, Thomas- maybe not next month but soon, I'm sure of it, when I don't have any more excuses to leave-" He took a hitching breath, the trembling from his arm filling his entire body.
"No." Thomas insisted, wanting to reach out to him, to offer some sort of comfort. "No, I won't let that happen to you."
"But you can't stop it, and neither can I." Jimmy said, and covered eyes with his free hand, choking back a sob. "And what happens when it's winter, and the sun sets early- and rises late? That's when it happens, you know- not when the moon comes out at all- it doesn't seem to matter, as long as it's full- and I'll have to leave the house earlier and earlier every month. And when I have to leave- when they find out what I am- I'll die as an- an animal somewhere, alone, poor, with nowhere to live, and covered in scars-"
Thomas let go of his arm, carefully resting it on a cloth in his lap, and grabbed both of Jimmy's shoulders. "You won't, because I'll be there to help you."
Jimmy shook his head, and wiped at the tears that continued to roll down his face. His eyes were red-rimmed when he looked at Thomas, the irises startlingly blue against it. "You don't want that kind of responsibility, no one would."
"Yes I do." Thomas answered. It wasn't even a choice, he could do nothing else. "You think I could let that happen to you without lifting a finger?"
Jimmy hiccoughed, and said, "It's what I deserve."
"No it isn't." Thomas shook his head, and handed Jimmy one of the unused clean towels in lieu of a handkerchief. "And I won't let it happen, besides."
Jimmy dried his face on the corner of the towel and took a deep breath, calming himself. He reached out and took Thomas's hand in his own. Thomas felt a band around his chest, a heavy pressure, all of his love for Jimmy, weighing on his heart.
"I'm sorry." Jimmy said, looking ashamed. "I'm so afraid. I can never let anyone find out about this, or else I'm sure I'll be killed for it."
"Then we'll just have to be very careful, won't we?" Thomas asked, and gave him a wan smile. He gave Jimmy's hand a reassuring squeeze, and then let go, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "But you've got to let me sew these up."
"Alright." Jimmy said, composing himself and nodding at his arm. "It hurts so badly- every time my heart beats-" He shivered, and glanced down at the injury, and then quickly away.
Thomas opened the box of silk threads, encased in sealed glass vials, and selected a needle, threading it. Jimmy went pale again, watching Thomas and his still bleeding cuts alternately.
"I told you not to look," Thomas said, and Jimmy gulped, his eyes sliding towards the wall. "Tell me about it, then." Thomas asked, as distraction, as he began to stitch up the deepest cut- the one where he could see bone.
"Ahh!" Jimmy gasped as the needle pierced his skin, and flinched away, the hand on his injured arm flexing into a fist. Thomas paused, anticipating his movement. "Um- what? Tell you about what?"
"Don't move. Hold as still as you can." Thomas said, and resumed the stitching. "Anything. Tell me something to keep your mind off of this."
"Um..." Jimmy was breathing quickly, and his arm shook, but he spoke. "Um, I-I can hear very well now. I can almost see perfectly in the dark. It- it still looks dark, but- I can make out what's happening- mmph- all my senses, really- are better now."
"That doesn't sound too awful." Thomas said, tying off a suture. He moved to the next cut.
"I guess not." Jimmy answered, breathlessly. "Th-this isn't as painful as I expected. Not nearly so much as the trap."
Thomas laughed, and held up his gloved hand for an instant. "Remind me to show you my bullet wound sometime." Jimmy nodded, and Thomas glanced over to see Jimmy's white knuckled grip on his knee, twisting into the fabric of his pyjama bottoms.
Jimmy lapsed into silence for a while. Eventually, his grip on his own knee loosened, but he kept his palm pressed flat against the fabric of his pyjamas. Thomas finished the stitches on the top half of his arm and sat up, setting aside the needle, to rub at his temples. The sky outside his room was grey, spilling dim light into the room.
"It must be close to five," Thomas said, "I've got to get the other side- it's not as bad, though."
Thomas finished the rest of the stitches, and covered the cuts in ointment before wrapping a length of gauze around Jimmy's arm. Jimmy watched him quietly, seemingly having become inured to sight of the wound after it was stitched and the bleeding had slowed.
"Be careful with it. You don't want to rip your stitches," Thomas said, letting go of Jimmy's arm. "And we'll have to get Clarkson to come look at it." Jimmy rested his hands, palm up, on his legs, and Thomas saw the bright red burns on his fingers. "Those burns, they're from silver, aren't they?"
Jimmy nodded, blinking sleepily. "Yes."
Thomas picked up the container of ointment again, and rubbed some of in over the burns on Jimmy's hands with his own fingers; on the fingertips, the heel of his right hand, the painful, bright splotch over his left palm. Jimmy inhaled sharply- Thomas wondered if the burns pained him- but Jimmy did not flinch away. He looked up at Thomas, and caught his gaze- in that same transfixing way he'd done earlier, and Thomas's hands faltered, going still over Jimmy's.
"Ah," Thomas caught himself, and looked down, at Jimmy's hands. "You've got to keep yourself from hurting people, though- if you want to not get caught."
Jimmy nodded, and reached out, to rest the back of his hand, palm up, against Thomas's bare forearm. "I know," He said, and Thomas looked up at the touch, and was caught by Jimmy's eyes again. A faint blush touched Jimmy's cheeks, in a band across his nose. "I'm worried, though- because I don't remember that."
Thomas took a steadying breath, as Jimmy's knuckles brushed against his skin. "You don't remember it? Attacking that man?"
Jimmy shook his head slowly, biting at his lip. "No. That's why I'm worried- what if something- something takes hold of me, and makes me do things- when I'm like that-" his voice broke. "Something I'm not in control of?"
Thomas felt heat on his face, and tried to fight it off. "Well, I'll just have to stay with you, next time. And make sure you don't do anything," he said.
Jimmy sighed, his eyes falling shut, and he leaned forward, closing the space between them, and rested the side of his face against Thomas's shoulder. Thomas stilled, his mouth falling open in shock, but Jimmy brought his unhurt arm up, and looped it around Thomas's back, a half-embrace. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice close to Thomas's ear. "When I said your room was comforting- I meant the smell of it," Jimmy went on, his voice quiet. Thomas could not think to answer, because it felt as though his heart was in his throat. "Because it's yours."
"Oh." Thomas said, though he felt as though he could not think.
"I want you close to me," Jimmy said, inching closer, and holding on to Thomas tighter, as if to emphasize his point.
"Y-you- I would always stay near you, if you wanted that-" Thomas said, unable to comprehend what was happening between them.
"You're the only one I trust with my secret," Jimmy nodded against his shoulder, and then let go, sitting back. Thomas felt the absence of him acutely- it tingled where Jimmy had touched him, as it had when he'd rested his hand on his chest. "I need to lie down, I think."
"Probably," Thomas said, trying to shake himself out of his stupor. "I'll tell Mr. Carson everything-"
"Not everything?" Jimmy asked him sharply, his eyes going wide.
"No, of course not," Thomas shook his head. "I'll tell him- I'll tell him you dropped your hat on the walk back to the house, and when you went to pick it up, the trap got you."
Jimmy looked hesitant, but nodded after a moment.
"And then maybe the farmers around will have to go pick some of them up, if they know people are getting hurt by them," Thomas said. "And I'll get your clothes, too."
"Alright." Jimmy answered, his eyes mostly shut.
Thomas led him back to his room, and paused outside the door once Jimmy was inside. He'd need to sleep in also- he would tell Mr. Carson that he'd been awake the whole time, tending to Jimmy's wounds- which was true, technically. And Jimmy would be in no shape to serve for a while at least, though Thomas was sure that Carson would only be too happy to come up with some alternate, one-handed tasks for him while he recovered.
But Thomas felt a rush, nonetheless, even after everything that had happened in the last two nights. Bad things had happened, people had been hurt- Jimmy was in a dire predicament, for which Thomas was not certain if there was a cure- and yet, there was something happening between them now, something he would have never expected.
Don't think about it, Thomas told himself. He's scared, he's upset, don't take advantage of that.
Even so, he felt elated by it, even as he ran back outside for Jimmy's clothing, to the suitcase beneath the tree. Something was happening, and Jimmy wanted him, in some capacity. Wanted his companionship. And physical comfort. And it wasn't everything, but it was enough for Thomas.
