Title: Perhaps I was born kneeling
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Anne Sexton
Warnings: AUish
Pairings: pre-Cougar/Jensen
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 235
Point of view: third
Prompt: The Losers, Jensen, team. They don't have a name for what he is.
He's on his knees coughing up bullets, and Cougar is shooting all the fuckers surrounding him, and Clay is yelling somewhere to his left, and Pooch is gasping in pain. (Aisha is on the way, but she's too late, too late.)
(And Roque. Goddamned Roque, he's still gone.)
And Jensen. Jensen, he's laughing. Catches the bullets in his hands and stares up at the sky, and all his killers are dead. Pooch might be dying.
Clay is silent, and Aisha's running.
Cougar whispers into his com, "Jensen?"
Jensen closes his eyes, tells himself, you're Jake Jensen, get a grip, hold on tight, don't let go, and opens his eyes to reply, "Everything's fine."
He stands, lets the bullets fall, and hurries to Pooch.
(Jakob Jensen is not his name. Not the one he was born with, anyway. [Not that he was born.]
He asked his maker once, and his maker laughed.
"I'll call you what I like," his maker said, "and for now, that is slave.")
Clay has questions, and Aisha demands answers, and Pooch thanks him, and Cougar—Cougar simply touches him and nods.
(He'll have to tell Cougar later, when Cougar should die but doesn't. He'll have to explain when he lets Clay and Aisha die, when he gets his hands around Max's neck and Max disintegrates into dust.
But that's later. This is now.
And for now, he's Jakob Jensen, and he's a man.)