July 18 - Hadrian's Deal AU

(In yet another moment of misguided heroism, Jesse decides not to tell the others about their deal with Hadrian and throws the games so that the others can go free. Surprisingly, Hadrian keeps his end of the bargain, leaving Jesse in the mines and the rest of the New Order in the portal with no way of getting home.)

Almost every damn moment in that Hallway, Jesse had been so terrified that one or the other of their group was going to die. That they were going to lose someone. And every damn moment, nobody had and they hadn't.

But somehow that choking sense of fear and worry and protectiveness had never quite extended to include themself. Had anybody asked them "what if something bad happens to you, Jesse?", they would've paused and shrugged and smiled. They still would, especially now that thinking about death and injury is just as pointless as thinking about any other form of escape. If their experiences have taught them anything, it's that with or without them, life goes on. Or what passes for it.

And that's why Jesse's here right now, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with itchy eyes that they can't even find it within themself to close, pushing aside the relentless ache deep in their every muscle and the way the narrow cot presses almost harshly into their back - which isn't helped by the fact that there's considerably less flesh and more bony parts sticking out (as well as a number of suspiciously shaped wounds) on said back than there once was. One thing Jesse learned very quickly is that in the mines, it's everyone for themselves, and the pseudo-celebrity status they still seem to have amongst the ex-competitors makes it hard for them to keep their head down and make themself invisible, try as they might. Still, Jesse's been pretty adept at hiding pain since before all of this happened.

Their mind's been running over the whole thing every single night for the past...six months? Or maybe it's been a few years by now; Jesse lost track a while ago. Running over what they'd done, what they'd chosen to do (as if it had ever been a real choice; the second Jesse was told that Axel and Olivia were in harm's way, this would've happened anyway), and who they were doing it all for. In fact, most of their waking moments are spent straining to summon up faces and voices and habits in their memory, a few more details trickling out of their grasp each time. And that terrifies them. They can't forget...must never forget.

And they won't, they won't, they're sure they won't; all the little things that have never been 'little' to them are there, they know they are. Even if some of them hover just out of reach, sometimes coming close enough to taunt them and then floating away again, no matter how they strive to latch on.

Maybe if they just tried harder-

Heh. Story of Jesse's life, really. If they'd tried harder. If they'd been better. If they could just be good enough, even if it's just once.

Jesse lets out a long, low sigh, closing their eyes (the prickle in them only partly due to exhaustion) and digging their nails deep into their palms. The ripped-open blisters blemishing their hands send sharp stings of protest across their skin, but they ignore the present in favour of the past.

They can still see Hadrian's mocking look of triumph; the image is emblazoned across the back of their eyelids. They can still feel the tremble of their fingers, the ringing in their ears, the hatred beyond anything they've ever known, spiking and pulsing.

Then came those first few days and weeks and months, when it was all still a gaping wound and almost everything, even the blunt pickaxe they'd had shoved into their hand at the crack of dawn every morning and the poorly fitting mining uniform they'd been allocated and the tiny cell-like rooms that had eight beds cramped into each one, had reminded Jesse of them in some way.

And they'll always remember that last group hug they'd all shared before a couple of Gladiators had had to bodily drag them away. Somehow, even though Jesse had known that it would probably be their last, the fact hadn't really, truly hit them at the time. Not the way it now does on a regular basis, a gut punch of the kind that also comes with remembering how Axel's pranks had always fallen flat thanks to his inability to keep a straight face and yet Olivia had been surprisingly good at it, remembering the endearingly familiar background noise of Petra and Ivor's verbal sparring that was never without genuine affection behind it, remembering Lukas consistently managing to turn wheat and dried fruit into cookies fit for royalty...

Jesse's family. At least this way, they know that they've done the only thing they could to keep them all safe.

Hopefully.

A chill that has little to do with the snow coating the ground outside cuts through Jesse at that thought. They might have their thoughts and their memories and the promises that they'd all made and that's enough; it has to be enough, because it's all they have left. Not for the first time, though, what they want more than anything right now is some way to know, to make absolutely sure that their loved ones are okay.

But they can't.

Perhaps that's for the best, really. In their heart of hearts, they know they'd never be satisfied with only that. No need to make this any harder.

Jesse shifts onto their side underneath the coarse, paper-thin blanket as sleep finally tugs their battered body and cluttered mind under. And the longing follows them into the most bittersweet of dreams.

(The cold pang it's going to cost them when they wake up will be worth it. Because they'll have been reminded of why all of this is worth it.)

(*does rain dance*) Plenty of angst still left to pour :D