AN: This started out as a dialog fic on my phone about five years ago. The tone has changed a lot over the last few weeks, while I've been trying to flesh it out into something that can stand on its own.

Reflections

The tense expression on Hadji's face as he cleaned Jessie's wound was matched by one of resignation on hers as she patiently kept still under his ministrations. She had slipped off the top of her dress, holding the ruined fabric over her breasts with her good hand. Without the blood-soaked fabric, her arm didn't look as bad.

Jonny swallowed the tension in his throat and let Hadji handle this. He needed to make sure the room was secure.

The window blinds were lowered and he checked the view of the parking lot from between their blades.

He made a quick sweep of the little motel room for bugs.

It was easier than looking at Hadji's fingers covered in Jessie's blood, or the way he carefully wrapped gauze around her arm. The sight wasn't anything new – they'd been patching each other up for almost a decade – but tonight, the scent of blood was cloying at the back of his throat.

He should have been able to prevent this.

"You're doing it again," Jessie said. "Please, stop acting like my Dad. It's getting weird."

Jonny stopped in his tracks, putting down the book he was flipping through. He did not point out how she and Hadji were always acting like his and that, with their new position in the company, he had to protect them from the targets they now had painted on their backs.

He opted for a defensive, "Well, I need to make sure you're safe."

"We're fine now," she assured him. "I'm okay. I'll be okay."

Both he and Hadji gave her a look that mirrored the same exasperated worry.

She gave them a reassuring smile that didn't really hit its mark.

"Jonny?" she asked. "Please kiss my husband."

It startled a tight laugh out of Hadji, who looked like he was one second away from combusting with tension.

"Who's making things weird?" Jonny retorted, walking over to the couch.

Hadji leaned towards him, his shoulder bumping against Jonny's thigh. He was still as tight lipped as he had been all evening and it was beginning to worry him.

"It's just a scrape and you're both acting like I shattered into pieces! Distract him!" She was trying to sound firm, but there was a certain giddiness that was starting to bubble up in her demeanor.

None of them were taking it well.

Hadji moved as if to rub at his eyes, but dropped his hands into his lap, his attention divided between Jessie, her blood on his hands and Jonny standing awkwardly at his side now.

"It wasn't meant to be a scrape and you know it!" he finally said. "If Jonny hadn't pushed you out of the way, the bullet would have hit something vital!"

Jessie gingerly touched the bandage on her arm.

"Well, it didn't. Guys, I'm fine!"

"And you can't ask him to kiss me any time you want to distract me!" Hadji insisted.

"But it does work…"

"That's beside the point!" But he was laughing now, the tension in his voice and in his posture loosening.

"Just let me enjoy this before the painkillers kick in!" Jessie pouted. She eased back against the battered couch, watching them fondly. She cradled her injured arm to her chest, pressed over the tatters of the dress.

"Fine, but we need to have a serious talk about this later! We can't have people taking shots at you!"

Jessie nodded.

Hadji fell back into his weary silence.

Jonny was waiting. Anticipating. Ready to stand at Hadji's side all evening, if he needed the support, or to move to Jessie's, when the adrenaline crash came and it all turned out to be a façade.

He hoped he wouldn't have to.

He wanted to bend down and give Hadji that kiss, to give him that brief moment of distraction, and comfort, and whatever he needed. Because they'd always had each other, hadn't they?

He wanted to reassure Jessie that he would do anything for her. He was there for her, whatever she needed, whenever she asked for it.

But he couldn't do any of that, because he had nearly lost her, and now his mind was spinning in place, going over what-ifs.

There was a gentle weight on his chest and Jonny looked down to see Hadji's fingers caught in his shirt, resting there lightly.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, the same anxiety mirrored, and with the faintest of tugs, Hadji pulled him in.

Their lips barely brushed at first. A trembled whisper. A reassurance of each other's presence. The last shiver melting out of his bones, as he pressed fully into the kiss, drawing a surprised chuckle out of Hadji.

They lost their balance and toppled over onto the couch, much to Jessie's delight.

There was a red handprint over Jonny's heart now and Jessie took his hand into hers, before he could press it over it.

"You're both hopeless," she said. She raised his hand to her lips to kiss his knuckles and Jonny fought the urge to pull it back, unworthy of such attentions.

Hadji reached out, grabbing their hands in one of his.

"We would be, without you," he said.

Jonny nodded.

It was a bit overwhelming to be caught between them, like that. So he extracted his hand and helped balance Jessie, so she could clamber over to sit on Hadji's side of the couch. It was an awkward maneuver, which earned him at least one elbow in the ribs, but it was worth it to see her cradled in her husband's arms again.

They kissed – eyes closed, injuries forgotten, the world shut out – and Jonny still couldn't believe that he was part of this. That these two people that he cared about more than anything in the world, who fit together into their own little universe, wanted him in there with them.