Chapter 36: Life

"Everything worth dying for is certainly worth living for."
—Joseph Heller, Catch-22

Jackson lay against Derek's chest, tracing his fingers over it gently. He ran his hand down through the hair on his chest, and over the hard lines of his stomach and then back up again. He felt as if he could do this for hours, just lie with Derek in his bed, touching him, feeling his arms around him... he could do this forever. Especially since he'd thought he'd never be able to touch him again, every second of it felt like a privilege, like a gift he'd been given from the universe.

Jackson felt Derek's hand brush over his cheek, and he lifted his head and kissed him. Derek kissed him back, running his fingers up through his hair. "What are you smiling about?" Derek asked.

"Oh, was I smiling?" Jackson asked, an obvious smile on his face. "Just happy about something, I guess,"

Derek was grinning back at him. "Yeah, me too," He said. They kissed again, and Jackson lay back down against Derek's chest.

It was amazing to remember how angry he'd been when he'd stormed over here to confront Derek. Where was all that anger now? Somehow it had just evaporated into nothing the moment Derek had kissed him. That had never happened before. His anger never just disappearedon him—it festered in his chest and stomach, gnawing at him until he couldn't take any more.

But as surprising as it was, it was true. He felt none of the anger he'd experienced when Allison had told him what she'd done, none of the hurt or the betrayal. Part of him thought he should still be angry; getting back together didn't change what Derek had done in the first place.

Jackson supposed it didn't really matter if he should have continued to feel angry and hurt. The fact was that he didn't, at all. He just felt grateful. Grateful and relieved. As difficult as the last three weeks had been for him, none of it seemed to matter any more. And no matter what he had to deal with going forward, he felt assured that he would be able to handle it all, so long as he had Derek by his side.

"So, how've you been?" Jackson asked, rolling onto his back and tilting his chin up to look at Derek. He wanted to know everything Derek had done during their time apart. Having missed three weeks of Derek's life, he felt it was high time he caught up.

"Hmm?"

"The last three weeks, I mean. How've you been? What have you been doing—fill me in,"

"Oh... they've been... very productive," Derek said. Jackson waited for him to elaborate, but nothing else came.

Jackson raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"Well, I built a book shelf—it's over there in the corner," Jackson glanced over and saw a large bookshelf he hadn't noticed before. "And then I put books on it, arranged alphabetically and by subject. Um, I also cleaned the loft a few times... several times, actually..."

"I noticed it looked very clean in here," Jackson commented.

"Well that's because of the cleaning I did."

"Anything else?"

"I've been going through that database that Deaton gave to Scott—he passed it on to me a couple of weeks ago. There's a lot of great information in there, actually..."

"How come?"

"What do you mean 'how come?' I want to be prepared, Jackson. For the monster or demon or whatever else it is that comes next. I want to know what's out there, what we're vulnerable to. And I want to know how to kill it, before it kills any of us,"

Jackson sat up and raised his eyebrows. "How do you know something else will come? Maybe everything is finally over," He said, more voicing his own desires than anything.

Derek snorted. "It's Beacon Hills, Jackson,"

"So what? It's not like we're over a hellmouth or something,"

Derek furrowed his brow. "A hellmouth?"

"It's from Buffy,"

"Yes Jackson, I know what a hellmouth is." Derek said. "I just didn't think you did,"

Jackson shrugged. "Erica's been making me watch. We just finished season one yesterday,"

"And?"

Jackson sighed. "And I don't get it. I mean, it's alright, sometimes it's funny and some of the characters are okay, but I just don't get the whole obsession with it. It's not the greatest thing I've ever seen,"

"Season two is better," Derek offered.

Jackson squinted at him. "Have you seriously watched the whole thing?" He asked. Derek nodded. "There's like seven seasons. You watched seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer? You didn't even want to buy a television at all,"

"I watched it with Laura," Derek said. "She loved that show, and she liked watching it with me. I didn't love it at first either, but it grows on you. And I liked that their werewolf character was sympathetic. Werewolves are usually the bad guys... I liked that Oz wasn't,"

"I haven't met Oz yet,"

"Season two,"

"Mmm, I see,"

"So is that what you've been up to?" Derek asked, winding his arm over Jackson's shoulder. "Catching up on cult television shows?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "Why bother asking, I'm sure our good pal Isaac has already informed you of my every movement over the last three weeks,"

"Shut up, Isaac didn't tell me about your every movement," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "He just... gave me the highlights, so I knew you were doing alright,"

"Yeah? Did he mention how miserable I was without you?"

"He... did actually, a few times," Derek confessed.

Jackson's mouth opened. "Seriously? And you still thought you'd made the right choice?"

Derek glanced away. "I was hoping he was exaggerating..."

"Well he wasn't, you idiot," Jackson said, punching him lightly on the arm.

"Just so you know, I was just as miserable as you were," Derek said.

"Which makes you twice as stupid for doing what you did," Jackson retorted. "It didn't work out for anyone,"

Derek put his hand against the side of Jackson's face. "No, it really didn't."

"Thank god I talked sense into you," Jackson said. "Right?"

"Right,"

Derek leaned in and pressed his mouth against Jackson's, and Jackson wrapped his arms over Derek's neck, holding onto him. As they kissed, Jackson pulled Derek down on top of him. He titled his head back as Derek kissed along his jaw and neck, moaning quietly.

Derek sucked in his breath. "God I missed that," He mumbled.

Jackson grinned. "What did you miss?" He asked.

Derek slid his hands up over Jackson's arms, and then pinned his wrists above his head. "This, you. The noises you make, the way you feel under me. Everything. I missed everything," He pressed his forehead against Jackson's, breathing in deeply again. "The last three weeks, without you... they were just..." Derek shook his head.

Jackson tilted his head slightly and gave Derek a soft kiss. "Well that's over now," He said quietly. He lay back down against the bed, and looked up at Derek. "Now you've got me."

Derek brushed his lips over Jackson's. "Good," He said.

They lay like that for several minutes, kissing lightly, neither of them making any moves to take things beyond that. It seemed enough, in that moment, just to be touching Derek. Just to be kissing him, and having his arms around him was enough. To be able to breathe in his scent, and feel the heat of his body. He didn't think he'd ever appreciated those things enough before. He would now.

"So," Derek said, once again holding Jackson comfortably against his chest. "Besides catching up on Buffy, what else were you doing for the last three weeks? You mentioned talking to your parents... working through some things?" Jackson turned away. He could feel Derek looking at him. Derek pressed a kiss against his shoulder. "What sort of things, Jackson?"

Jackson sighed. He supposed he couldn't just lie in Derek's bed forever, kissing and chatting idly about things like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Derek's obsessive cleaning rituals. Eventually he was going to have to have that talk with him. Better to get it over with now.

Jackson sat up on the bed, and began rooting around for his clothing.

Derek furrowed his brow. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Jackson asked, locating his shirt on the floor and grabbing at it. His pants he found buried under the covers, and his underwear turned up under the bed.

"It looks like you're getting dressed," Derek commented, still lying in bed and making no moves to change that.

Jackson snorted, pulling on his pants. "Nice to know your observational skills are sharp as ever."

"Why are you getting dressed?" Derek asked. The moment Jackson finished doing up the button on his jeans, Derek grabbed him around his middle and pulled him back down on the bed. His mouth worked over Jackson's ear. "Is it too soon to undress you again?"

"Yes," Jackson snapped, pushing Derek off of him. He stood up again, and faced Derek with his hands on his hips. "Come on, get up, get dressed. We have to talk,"

Derek rolled his eyes, and began looking for his own clothes. "Why is this the kind of talking we can't do in bed, without clothes?" He mumbled.

"Trust me, you'll want to be dressed," Jackson replied.

Grudgingly, Derek picked himself off the bed and threw on his clothes. While he did, Jackson went into the kitchen and made some tea. He had found, over the past few weeks, that having tea was helpful during these sorts of conversations. It gave you something to focus on, something to do other than just stare at the person you were talking to.

Jackson put the tea on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch.

"Alright, I'm dressed," Derek said, crashing down next to him on the couch. "What do we need to talk about?"

Jackson picked up his tea, trying to determine how to best tell Derek about Matt. "Well... you wanted to know what I've been working through, with my parents, right?"

Derek nodded. "Is what happened with Matt part of it?" He asked. Jackson looked up, surprised. "I mean, being the kanima... being forced to kill...?"

"Yeah," Jackson said, looking back to his tea. "That's a big part of it. But... about Matt, there's some things you don't know,"

Jackson glanced at Derek, and saw he was sitting with his body turned towards him, tea untouched. There was concern on his face. "You mentioned that," Derek said. His voice was quiet.

Turning his mug around in his hands, Jackson nodded. "Yeah, well... it's um—" Jackson sighed. "Look, just promise me you're not going to freak out, okay? I mean, you'll want to freak out, but just try not to please?" He saw Derek open his mouth to respond, but Jackson continued. "And don't tell me your sorry, I've heard enough of that from my parents. It's not your fault, and I get that you feel awful—or you will in a minute anyways—but it makes me feel, I don't know... pitied." He looked up at Derek. "Please don't pity me, okay? I hate that."

Derek put a hand on Jackson's shoulder, and squeezed lightly. "Alright Jackson, I promise not to pity you," He said. "And I'll try my best not to freak out, although to be honest I'm already worried. Would you just tell me what happened already?"

Jackson took a deep breath. "Well, what happened... Matt..." Jackson's ground his teeth together, unable to get the words out. He didn't know why he was having such a hard time. He'd told his parents, after all—although his anger had seriously helped then. But he'd talked about it with them afterwards, without any anger fuelling him. So why couldn't he tell Derek?

Jackson took a sip of his tea, and stared down at his cup. Maybe it was the anticipation of the look on Derek's face, the way it would break and crumple when he told him that was keeping the words in. Maybe if he didn't look at him...

"When I was the kanima, Matt had complete control over me..." Jackson began, looking down at the dark liquid in his cup and not at Derek. "And so he sort of used that control to... take advantage of me," That seemed like a good way to put it. That was generally how his Dad referred to it. Neither of his parents were particularly fond of using the word rape. His mother had, on occasion, but it was generally avoided if it at all possible."

When Derek said nothing, he looked up at Derek, only to find his face doing the exact thing Jackson had feared it would. Derek looked broken, and lost and horrified.

Jackson moved closer to him on the couch, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Derek? Are you okay?"

Derek blinked a few times, and seemed to get a grip on himself. His expression hardened and his emotions became unreadable. "Can I hug you?" He asked. Jackson raised his eyebrow. It was a strange question to come out of such a blank expression. "I'm not allowed to freak out, or say I'm sorry—can I hug you?"

"Oh. Sure,"

Jackson leaned in, and Derek wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. Jackson's heart was hammering a bit in his chest, but it soon slowed to its normal rate. He had told Derek, finally. It felt a little like a weight had been lifted, although Jackson feared he had only transferred it over to Derek.

"Are you alright?" Derek asked quietly.

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm... dealing,"

Derek kissed his forehead, and held him tighter. "I swear, Jackson, nothing like that is ever going to happen to you, ever again. I won't let it, I promise."

Jackson smiled. He lifted his head, and gave Derek a long, slow kiss. "I know, Derek. I know,"

Jackson lost track of how long they stayed like that. At some point they moved from sitting up to lying down, arms wrapped around each other on the couch, not moving, just holding each other. Jackson kept waiting for Derek to say something, or to start screaming and shouting... but Derek just lay there, quietly, and held him.

Jackson supposed it had been a little over an hour when he finally lifted his head up and looked at Derek. Derek was staring up at the ceiling of the loft, his eyes unfocused. "Derek?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

Derek glanced down at him. "Do you?"

"I don't know. I don't want to, I guess... but I feel like we should,"

"If you don't want to, then we don't have to, Jackson,"

"Yeah but... you probably have questions, right?"

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes, it does matter. Come on,"

Derek sighed. "How many times?" He asked, the words coming grudgingly out of his mouth. "How many times did he...?"

Jackson glanced away, and rested his head back down against Derek's chest. "I don't know. A lot. All the time." Jackson felt Derek tense up beneath him. "Sorry,"

"Hey," Derek put his hand on Jackson's cheek, and lifted his face to look at him. "Don't apologize. None of this is your fault. You know that right?"

"Yeah, my parents have sort of told me that a few times,"

"That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if you know that. Really know it,"

Jackson sighed. He sat up, and pulled his legs up in front of him. Derek sat up as well, and put his arm over Jackson's shoulders. "I know it... but most of me doesn't believe it. If that makes any sense,"

Derek nodded. "It does. Why don't you believe it?"

"Well, I mean come on. It kind of is my fault," Jackson said.

"In what way?"

"If I hadn't been the way I was, I never would have become the kanima. I wouldn't have killed all those people, and Matt wouldn't have been able to do what he did. If I'd been different—if I'd been better..."

Derek put his hand against his cheek. "Jackson, you were a lost, screwed up kid. That doesn't make the kanima curse your fault—it wasn't anyone's fault, it was just a freak occurrence. You didn't do anything to bring that on, and you're not responsible for what happened to you. You had no choice about turning into the kanima, it was something that was forced on you. Matt was the one who had a choice, and he chose to use you for his own petty revenge. He chose to do those things to you. It's his fault, and no one else's. Do you believe me?"

"I believe you believe what you're saying," Jackson mumbled, glancing away.

"Jackson, look at me," Derek demanded. Jackson lifted his eyes back up to meet Derek's. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve it, any of it,"

"I never said I did..."

"You didn't deserve it," Derek repeated.

Jackson blinked a few times, fighting against the itch of tears threatening to well up. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice quiet.

Derek nodded. "I'm sure," He said, pressing a kiss against Jackson's temple.

Jackson licked his lips, and turned away as he blinked back tears. He didn't know if he believed Derek, or his parents, but it was starting to feel less and less like he was being lied to. What if they were right? What if Derek was right, and he hadn't deserved any of it? He'd gone so long thinking that what happened to him was a punishment for the way he'd been. It seemed impossible that they could be right. But maybe...

Before he could really start to sob, Derek pulled him back into his arms, and rested his chin on his forehead. "One day Jackson, you'll believe me. You'll know I'm right. And I won't stop telling you until you do,"

Jackson pressed his face against Derek's shoulder, hoping to stifle the tears. "Hold me tighter," He muttered, wrapping his own arms around Derek's middle.

Derek did as instructed. "Just tell me when to let go," He said.

"How about never?" Jackson murmured.

"Never works for me."