Force of Nature
Gage watched himself from a distance: an observer, gazing down while he throttled the old bitch until her eyes popped from her skull and her lips turned blue.
He stared blankly ahead as Bossanova struggled beneath him. It didn't matter how weak he was—her position offered no leverage to fight back. Her fists beat fruitlessly against his head, each blow sending his thoughts spinning like dying stars.
He'd believed in her. He really had.
Gage closed his eye, feeling her flickering pulse beneath his fingers. He was tired. So tired. And he wanted it to be over, for both of them.
Pain exploded in his left thigh, sending a shockwave rolling through his body. The searing flood brought him back from the dead, rushing through his core to the very tips of his fingers as he staggered away, hollering.
Bossanova slid to the floor, clutching her throat, her colour returning with the rasping breaths ripping into her lungs. She vomited, trying and failing to get to her feet, while Gage looked down at the source of the fire.
A knife was buried to the handle in his leg. A very fucking familiar knife. Gage glanced up to see Sarah, her wide eyes set in a pale yet determined face. She'd taken in his lessons after all.
"Get away from her!" Sarah shrieked, stepping between him and the boss.
Gage seized the knife and tore it free, fresh pain bringing clarity in anger. He felt it building and building, until suddenly the pain was no more, and all he knew, all he could ever be, was swept away by a river of molten rage.
"Try me, girl! See where it fuckin' gets you!" Gage bellowed, hurling the knife at her. It missed by a hair's width, slamming into the floor and quivering menacingly on its bloody point. No matter. He drew out his sidearm, but before he could shove Sarah out of the way and put a bullet in Bossanova's head, the old woman was on her feet.
Gage tried to aim, but Bossanova was too quick, forcing his arm up as he fired. Dust and bits of ceiling rained down on them, but he barely noticed, fighting for his weapon. God damn, she was strong. He yelled as he tried to twist out of her grasp, but she drove her knee into his groin, wrenching the gun free in the same movement. He doubled over, taking a wild swing for the sidearm, but she dodged and threw it out of the window.
"Get the rifle!" Bossanova yelled as Gage turned, hooking her arm around his neck and dragging him back. He just caught sight of Sarah sprinting to the coffee table, seizing his rifle, and flinging that out of the open window too.
"You little shit!" He pushed back his good leg, took hold of Bossanova's arm, and dragged her over his shoulder. She landed with a crash across the bar top and rolled out of sight, but not before his injured leg gave way. Gage hit the deck, scrabbled to get a grip of the counter, and pulled himself up.
"Gage!" Bossanova was on her feet too, dragging Sarah with her. She tried to push Sarah out of the main door with one hand, her other held up placatingly towards him. "Please, just calm down. Listen to me."
Gage moved around the bar as fast as his leg would allow, hoping he could kill Bossanova before he dropped from blood loss as he drew out his own combat knife. The kid better run, because if she tried to get in the way again, he'd be forced to deal with her too.
Bossanova seemed to have the same thought. She grabbed Sarah and threw her bodily from the room, before slamming the door shut and turning the lock. The kid began yelling and banging, but Gage ignored her. It was their show now.
"Knew it would come to this," Gage spat, his eye fixed on Bossanova as they circled each other. "Fuckin' knew it. Can't trust a goddamn raider."
"I'm no raider," Bossanova replied calmly, though her breaths were coming out quick and shallow, her eyes flitting all around the room. "I told you that from the beginning, Gage. I just need you to listen. If you ever trusted me for a moment, then please—"
Gage lunged for her, slashing hard and fast with his blade. He didn't want to hear her bullshit. He just wanted to carve out the lies straight from her fucking throat.
"Gage!" Bossanova yelled, the panic rising in her voice as she dodged and weaved, parrying his attacks with her bare hands. The knife bit her skin, sipping her blood. Gage needed her twitching at his feet, but she continued to evade him, shouting, "Listen! Please!"
Gage ignored her, his frustration rising with every miss. He'd tried to end it quick and clean, but the bitch refused to die. She wanted to talk about trust? He had trusted her. And now he was being rewarded for his blind stupidity. She had to die. For everything. For tricking Gage like he'd been tricked before. By him.
"I'll fucking kill you, Connor!" Gage roared.
"Connor?" The confusion was clear in her voice, even as he swung for her. The name stopped him in his tracks. What had he just called her?
Bossanova seized the hesitation. She kicked him hard in the bad leg and it buckled. One flourish later, she'd disarmed him, throwing the knife casually out the window just like all his other weapons.
Gage dragged himself up, ignoring the screaming protests of his leg. No gun? No knife? He'd just have to do it the old fashioned way. Gage threw himself forward, fists flailing, catching Bossanova by surprise. He landed a good one on her jaw, sending her spiralling back.
He was losing control. Gage could see himself again, as if watching a fight in the Gauntlet. His leg was slick with blood, his face wild as his teeth gnashed and his eye rolled. His frenzy embraced decades of bitterness and resentment—Gage no longer cared if he won. He didn't even care if he died. He just wanted to hurt her, take every slight and betrayal and piece of shattered trust—to take Connor and all he represented—and aim it at one single target: Bossanova.
Somewhere in the distance, he could hear her screaming his name. Begging him to calm down, to listen, to stop. But Gage couldn't. God, he couldn't. He was an inferno, and he would rage until he was spent.
Gage grabbed hold of the sword at Bossanova's hip.
Wham.
He staggered back, clutching his head. Her own had a small cut in the centre, the blood trickling down her face and dripping off her chin. Those black eyes were suddenly alight, her hand clamped down hard on the hilt of her precious sword.
"Don't you dare touch that," she hissed, baring her teeth at him.
"Get fucked." He went for her again, but Bossanova was ready this time. She flowed around his punch, driving her elbow straight into his face.
The fight became brutal, both of them trading fierce blows. And finally Gage realised how weak he was, and how much she had been holding back. He was losing fast, every punch of hers slamming into him hard. Gage retched up blood, swaying dangerously on the spot, and suddenly Bossanova had him by the front of his armour, forcing him back towards the window at a run.
Fuck.
The world spun as she thrust him out into open air. Gage tensed, waiting for the swooping sensation—for the fall.
It never came. At the last moment his head jerked violently, and Gage realised he was being held in place on the windowsill by the very tips of his toes, while his other leg dangled precariously over the dizzying drop. Bossanova clung onto his armour, her free arm hooked around an exposed support beam. Though her face was screwed in concentration, it couldn't disguise the pure fury radiating from her.
"Now," Bossanova snarled, her whole body trembling with the effort of keeping him alive. "Will you listen?"
Gage tried to get his injured leg back onto the windowsill to give himself a better foothold, but the combination of the stab wound and his reckless pursuit of Bossanova around the Grille had left it royally fucked. Still, he tried, and was immediately punished in the form of Bossanova shaking her arm, causing Gage to sway ominously.
"Pull me back in or I'll drag you down with me, you crazy bitch!" Gage yelled, hating his note of panic.
"Ghouls can reattach their limbs," Bossanova called to him, nodding her head down towards her sword. "I'm willing to bleed. How about you?"
He knew there was no way she could cut her own arm off without letting go of him or the support beam first, but the comment still made him exclaim, "Jesus fucking Christ, woman."
Below them, the raiders were starting to take notice of Gage's predicament. Their cheers rang out in the muggy evening air, egging Bossanova to drop him to his death. This, more than anything, brought him back to his senses.
What the hell was he doing? He was acting like the sixteen-year-old wannabe he used to be, fresh in his first gang, the temptation of revenge almost sweet enough to sacrifice everything else. The thought sickened him. He was better than that and he needed to get a grip on himself fast if he expected to leave the Grille alive.
Nuka World was done for. So was Bossanova, even if she didn't know it yet. If he'd found someone stronger to lead from the start, then maybe...but he hadn't. He'd failed, and Gage had no one to blame but himself.
"Let me in, goddamn it," Gage snapped, closing his eye. "I'm done."
Bossanova surveyed him shrewdly. "Are you going to listen?"
"No. I jus' ain't gonna try to kill you anymore." He glared at her. "You ain't worth it."
"Well, that's a start." With a grunt of obvious effort, Bossanova pulled him back into the safety of the Grille, catching him when his leg gave way and he stumbled.
"Let go," he spat, shaking her off. "I'm fine." He limped towards the exit, gritting his teeth. Now the fight was over, the pain hit him like a mini nuke. As he approached the door he yelled out to Sarah, "We ain't dead." To his surprise, she made a muffled noise of relief, as if her fist was pressed to her mouth.
He reached to unlock the door, and Bossanova suddenly said, "This isn't living, Gage."
Gage paused. She was trying to get in his head. He knew she was. And yet… "What?" He shuffled around to face her, frowning.
"Nuka World," Bossanova replied. "The whole place is constantly on edge, and that won't ever change. This isn't living. It's just surviving."
Gage pulled a face. "There's no fucking difference."
"There is, and I think you know that. Might be you've only ever experienced survival, scraping by day to day—but in the last year you've had a taste for what living is—enjoying life, not just maintaining it. Why else would you fight so hard for a doomed venture?"
"You follow my plan, there's nothin' doomed about it," Gage retorted. "Shit's tense at the moment, but when the gangs get all their territories—"
"—then they'll find something else to take issue with."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. I ran a mob family, and we had our fair share of traitors and opportunists. Nuka World is full of them, and with your plan, it will fail eventually. It can't work because it's not sustainable."
Gage could feel his temper rising again. "The fuck you talkin' about?"
Bossanova looked incredulously at him. "You're a smart man—think about it! Everything in this place relies on one strong figure to keep things running—"
"Yeah, and I thought we had one, 'til you fucked it all up," Gage growled.
"Say I did go along with you," Bossanova snapped, losing her patience. "Say I kept things the way you want, got all the territories, and settled everyone. How long would that last really? I'll outlive all of you naturally, sure. But what happens if a raider gets lucky? Or a trader decides to be brave? What happens if I catch an illness, or I trip and break my neck? What happens if I just die in an accident, Gage? What happens then?"
Gage opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn't have an answer for her.
"You think the gangs will just allow you to bring in another leader without any fuss? No. They'll see their opportunity and they will kill you. Nuka World will fall."
He scowled, heat prickling through his skin. "So you're jus' gonna burn it to the ground early? Save the raiders a job, yeah? Well fuck you!"
"I am trying to make Nuka World a place that will last." Bossanova edged towards him, her arms opened, almost inviting him to an embrace. "I am trying to protect you, should anything happen to me." She swallowed, her eyes bright. "I already lost Nicky. I don't want to lose you too."
For a moment, Gage's resolve weakened. But then he remembered all she'd kept hidden from him, all she'd planned behind his back. She was a liar. Just another damn raider.
"Boss," Gage said, turning away from her, "I don't give a fuck. From now on, you're on your own."
And with that, he unlocked the door, shoving it so hard he bowled over the waiting Sarah, and limped from the Grille.
It took a long time to get down the stairs. Every inch of him hurt.
His leg was the worst of all, blood soaking through most of the left side of his pants. Maybe if he hadn't gone for the boss hard like an idiot, it wouldn't be this bad. Gage couldn't remember the last time he'd lost it so badly. He probably wouldn't have walked away at all if Bossanova chose to draw a weapon. But she didn't. Even when Gage grabbed her sword, she hadn't used it against him.
As he reached the bottom of the stairs he stopped, leaning on the handrail for support, before fumbling for the emergency stimpak stashed in a pouch on his belt.
Connor. He'd called her Connor.
Gage remembered his first lesson well. The man who told Gage how important he was, how much he helped keep the gang running, leaving him for dead. If Connor had just abandoned him in the heat of battle, Gage could have understood, even if it pissed him off. But no. Connor set him up, and then left him at the mercy of another gang. Gage escaped by the skin of his teeth, bleeding and cursing in the dirt, promising never to be so stupid again.
He felt the same way now as he did back then. Or maybe age had intensified the hurt. A lifetime of playing safe, being cautious—decades of holding everyone at arm's length, and it had all been unravelled in the space of a few short months.
The chill of the stimpak flooded through his leg, and Gage straightened up, not needing to lean on the wall anymore. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a trembling hand. The idea of just starting again, somewhere new...alone. It was too much. Bossanova was right, in her own way. He'd gotten used to being comfortable. She called it 'living.' He called it 'getting soft.'
Maybe this was for the best...if he lived long enough to escape the Commonwealth.
Gage shook his head and carried on, pushing the main door open and limping out into the street. He spotted his rifle, sidearm, and knife only a few feet apart from each other, having thankfully missed the pond below the Grille. He picked them up and stowed them away, before heading on. A member of the Pack drew close, laughing, and clapped Gage on the back while giving him a deliberate dig in the ribs.
"Saw your little spat," the raider howled, almost using Gage for support. "What's the matter? Does the ghoul not wanna fuck the ghoul fucker?"
Gage slammed his head into the raider's nose, sending him crashing to the ground. He nearly went with him, but managed to cling to his dignity by remaining standing. Other raiders started over, looking for a fight, but Gage pulled out his gun and pointed it at the Pack member.
"Do I look in the mood for your shit?" he hissed, staring down at the raider. The man at his feet avoided his eye, clutching his bloody face. Gage spat on him. "Show the boss some respect, scum. And talk like that to me again, I'll do more than break your fuckin' nose." He glanced up at the other raiders, warning them off with a look. "Remember Haze."
Gage limped away without a second glance. It was a bad idea not to watch his back, but there was little else he could do in his state. All he had was his reputation and the protection of the boss. The first was already in tatters, and the latter probably on its way out. He needed to leave before the Disciples caught up with him.
Fuck Nuka World. Fuck them all.
He hoped the place burned.
The minutes felt like hours as Gage dragged himself across the wilderness of the park, each step sending stabbing pains through the slowly reopening wound in his leg. He had no more stimpaks, no means to patch himself up, and no idea how much blood he'd lost.
On and on he walked, drowning in endless thoughts. Everything he'd built up, everything he'd worked towards, had crumbled right in front of him. He'd never felt so helpless in all his life. Gage's melancholy was only interrupted when he reached a destination. He hadn't planned it, hadn't intended to go there, but wasn't the slightest bit surprised by the familiar door in front of him.
Sighing, Gage turned the handle and went in.
The main entrance of Jack's brothel was silent. Jack stood in the centre of the room, a pistol pressed to the forehead of a raider, Ethel at her side holding a sheet to her bloodied mouth. Jack's eyes went wide at the sight of him, her lips trembling, and for a second she seemed ready to lower her weapon.
Crack.
The raider dropped dead and Jack holstered the gun, not taking her gaze from Gage. He thought she might be angry to see him, or even tell him outright to leave. Instead, she looked devastated. Her people set to work immediately, dragging the body away, shovels in hand, doing everything they could to quickly leave the room. Within seconds, Gage and Jack were alone.
She stared at him for a good while, only briefly paying attention to his bleeding leg. Then she jerked her head in the direction of the door, before walking off, leaving him to follow.
Jack kept ahead of him all the way up the stairs, not bothering to help, holding herself tight. She looked small again, uncertain, the way she had when he'd said...so many things to her. But Gage couldn't focus on memories for long—the brothel was practically made of stairs, and each step was a battle to conquer. By the time they finally reached the top, he was clinging to the handrail for dear life, his face coated in sweat.
Jack turned to him and for the first time seemed to realise his condition. She ran into her room, leaving him on the landing, and rushed back with a couple of stimpaks. He didn't try to stop her as she pulled his pants down and cleaned the wound, before administering the medicine. It took everything he had just to stay standing.
The stims kicked in quickly, and the pain slowly faded. Within minutes, all that remained was a pink, twisted scar.
"Thanks," he mumbled, not looking at her as he pulled his damp pants back into place and secured them. Jack stripped his armour off next, working on the worst of his injuries, before finally stepping back. She frowned but motioned for him to come into her room. Gage followed, armour in hand, turning to shut the door behind him. When he faced her again, ready to tell her everything about Bossanova, he noticed she'd started to unbutton her shirt.
"What the hell are you doing?" he said, blinking at her, lowering his armour on the floor.
Jack paused, staring down at her feet, her hands frozen on one of her buttons. "I haven't forgot what you said to me. I swore I wouldn't, and I didn't think you would. But now you're here, and I can't stop myself." She looked up and Gage was staggered to see tears. "But you can fucking pay for it, just like you promised."
Gage's mouth fell open. He remembered his parting shot to her, and his stomach writhed with shame.
"If I ever see you again, I'll be paying for it."
He shook his head. "Jack, I ain't here for...I don't…"
She blinked at him. "Not for that?"
"No."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "What then? Because if you think you can just unload all your shit on me like you did over Colter, after everything that's happened, you can fuck off." She marched over to him, her face reddening. "I'm done, Gage. I ain't dealing with your bullshit anymore. Get out."
Gage didn't move. "The boss fucked me over, Jack. Nuka World is gonna collapse. I'm—"
"I don't care, Gage," Jack snapped, folding her arms. "I washed my hands of this shit the moment you told me I was nothing but a quick, easy fuck. " Her eyes were overly bright again. "Out."
Gage bit his tongue, uncertain what to do—uncertain why he was even here. There was a half-cooked plan in his head, involving Jack and her little group leaving with him. The specifics—how they'd survive, how they'd hide so many people from Nisha and Mason and Mags—weren't formed. All Gage knew was he wanted her with him, whatever the cost. His dependency was finally starting to dawn on him, and how much she had always been in his corner.
"Bossanova is releasing the slaves," Gage tried again, hoping she'd recognise the gravity of the situation. "All of them." If that didn't make her see how serious things were, nothing would.
To his shock, she shrugged, turning away from him. How could she not grasp the danger they were all…?
The last piece of the puzzle clunked into place.
"You knew." It wasn't a question.
Jack snapped her head in his direction, her panic-stricken face more damning than anything she could have said. "No, I—"
"You knew!" Gage snarled, stepping towards her and clenching his fists. Bossanova was one thing, but Jack?
She seemed to decide the game was up, because after a second she whispered, "Yes."
Gage exploded. "Why would you do this to me?"
"I just wanted to—"
"I've done shit I ain't proud of, said things I shouldn't, but you—"
"Gage—"
"You," he snarled, getting right in her face. "You want me dead, don't you? You're tryin' your damn best to get me fuckin' killed, and for what? Because we argued? Because I'm an asshole?"
Jack shoved him hard, sending him staggering away as she yelled, "Because the boss made me realise Nuka World ain't stable!"
"Oh, ain't stable?" Gage hurled back at her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Ain't stable! Nisha wants you dead and she's on the verge of doing it!"
"But instead of coming to me, instead of tellin' me, you go behind my fuckin' back!"
"Go to you? You wouldn't have fucking listened!"
But Gage continued to rant on, drowning her out. "The shit I have done for you, you ungrateful bitch, and you fucking go and throw me to the ferals!"
He bellowed the last word at her as he picked up her coffee table and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and exploded into splinters, but he'd already moved on to everything he could get his hands on, glasses and plates and pre-war junk, screaming with incomprehensible rage. Bossanova was bad enough, but Jack cut him on a level so deep he couldn't even—
Stars burst across Gage's vision as something with the force of a sledgehammer hit him in the face. He crashed heavily to the floor and stared dazed at the ceiling as the world spun around him. Pain seared through his nose, hot, salty blood running into his mouth.
Jack moved into his line of sight, her right fist raised, the knuckles red and swollen. She straddled his chest, pinning him as she drew her gun and pointed it at his face.
"Listen to me, raider boy, and listen good," she hissed through bared teeth, her expression like ice. "You think you can trash my home, treat me like shit, and I'll just let it happen?" She pushed the barrel hard into his forehead. "Think again."
"Don't talk like you're innocent," Gage snarled back, though he stayed still. Never trust a raider. "You're lucky the only thing I'm doing is breaking your shit, after stabbin' me in the back."
"Stabbing you in the back?" She had the nerve to look indignant. "I was protecting you!"
He goggled at her. "How is putting me in Nisha's firing line protection?"
"Because Nuka World. Is. Not. Sustainable. Shut up!" Jack yelled, cutting off his retort. Gage shut up. She had a gun to his head after all. Her face screwed up in the struggle to keep her cool. "Nuka World is not sustainable. It's not. And the second it fails, you die. As does everyone else. You know it. I know it. Everybody fuckin' knows it. They can't wait to kill you—Nisha in particular."
She paused, biting her lip. "You used to complain about Colter damn near every day. How the others were breathing down your neck. How you thought they were just going to jump you and slit your throat. I couldn't bear it then, and I can't bear it now. With the boss' plan, there's a chance we all get through this in one piece. So I did something about it. I took the better option."
Gage sneered. "Oh yeah? I'm sure not having slaves on your conscience didn't contribute at all. You're a fucking disgrace."
Jack flushed red but held her ground. "I didn't like the slaves, but I could have lived with it for a while longer. This, though...everybody wins. It's worth the risk, Gage."
"Everybody wins my ass. What if someone picks up on it? Then what? My head will be on a spike by the end of the—"
"The only head on a spike will be mine."
This caught him off guard. "What?"
Jack stared grimly down at him. "Everything was done by me. I did the research. I tampered with the collars. I removed them."
"But—"
"If I was caught, then it would have been put down to the ex-slave trying to free the others. No way to link it back to you and the boss."
"The boss was going to let you take the heat?"
"She wasn't going to 'let' me do anything. I fuckin' told her and didn't give her the option of arguing. It was the only way to make sure you weren't blamed if something went wrong. Only way to keep you safe."
Gage blinked. "Why would you do something so stupid?"
A flash of anger crossed her face. "Because I love you, you fucking idiot!"
Every single retort Gage had ready to hurl at her died in his throat. He stared at her, stunned. She held his eye, defiant and burning, her weight heavy on his chest. "I love you, but I'm done. I ain't here for you to pick up and drop whenever you feel like it. I won't be used."
She watched him, almost hungrily. Gage gazed back, numb except for the feel of her body against his. He was suffocating on the unspoken, his mind completely blank.
"This plan...it's my last gift." Jack's gun stayed steady on his head, but her free hand wiped fiercely at her eyes. "If you want to save your skin, run. I don't care anymore—I've made my peace. I'm choosing to stand with the boss."
She waited, but Gage still didn't reply. After a moment, she nodded, as if expecting nothing better. "If I let you stand up, will you hurt me?"
Gage slowly shook his head, groggy as though in a dream.
"Are you going to throw things around and break my shit?"
Again, he turned his head from side to side.
Jack considered him for a few seconds, trying to glean the truth from his face, then nodded. "Good." She removed the gun. "You know your way to the exit. See yourself out and don't come back. If you do, I'll shoot you." She started to stand up.
Gage gripped at her thighs without thought, digging his fingers in deep. In a flash, the gun was in his face again, but he looked past it, meeting her eye.
"Let go," she said, with an obvious effort to sound calm.
Gage clung on tighter, his heart battering against his ribcage. It was terror like he'd never known. The crushing, burning fear pressed down on his chest so hard he couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. His mouth trembled as he tried to force the words out, stomach twisting and writhing, finally seeing the truth.
He was about to lose Jack. For real this time.
"Let. Go." Her command came out in a snarl. Out of the corner of his eye, her trigger finger twitched.
"I ain't using you."
Jack drew back a little, the gun jerking up, before quickly falling back into place. She gaped at him, mouth opening and closing, before she said, "I don't believe you." Her voice was thick, her eyes overly bright, knuckles white against the pistol grip. But her features remained set and resolute.
He couldn't blame her. But he thought he knew how to convince her. The problem was admitting it. Gage fought with himself for a moment, grimacing, before giving in. "I...I didn't kill the slaves. I freed them when I got to the transit station."
Jack blinked, but to his surprise, she didn't look pleased with his confession. "I already know. The boss told me after we had our fight."
"What?" Gage snapped. That fucking bitch. "She shouldn't have said anything."
"You're lucky she did, otherwise I wouldn't have let you anywhere near the brothel today." Jack frowned. "But when the boss told me, it gave me hope everything wasn't as fucked up as I thought."
"If it's that great, why didn't you say something?"
"Because you lied to me. Went out of your way to hurt me. Pissed me off."
"I was angry," Gage muttered, wishing he could look away from her disappointment. Disappointment in him. "Ashamed. Thought I was going soft, and I...I couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle a lot of things. Wanted to make you feel how I did. So I took it out on you." He sighed. "Stupid thing to do. It cost me…well." He paused, fighting against the silence. "You."
Jack bit her lip. Finally she said, "And why did you free the slaves?"
Gage closed his eye, hating himself. He'd dodged Bossanova's accusations, tried to hide them from himself, and damn near bought his own lies. But the truth was staring him in the face, and he could no longer deny it. He gazed up at her, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. "Because...because you asked me to."
He was clinging to her so tight his fingertips were hurting. Jack winced, and slowly Gage loosened his hold, petrified she would pull away. She didn't, frozen in place. Waiting.
He licked his lips, but his mouth was as dry as the desert. What did he say? How could he say it, when the only thing he knew for certain was the dread of her absence? Gage was not an educated man. The words did not come easily to him.
"Don't...don't leave me," he managed, his jaw so tense it ached.
Her eyes were searching his, and though her expression was hard, those eyes...they had a softness he didn't deserve. Jack twisted her mouth to the side. "Why?"
Gage clenched his teeth together and then forced himself to relax. "Because...you're right." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "About...about us. I ain't never done nothing like...never had anyone like…" He broke off, his face burning, and turned his head away from her. That Jack would see him acting this pathetic. "I ain't good at feelings and shit. I ain't…"
Her fingers touched his face so gently they were the caress of a ghost. Gage flinched, but let Jack guide him, tilting his head towards her so he faced her wrath. Instead, he saw those brown eyes, wide with concern and anticipation. She set the gun down and pushed it away.
"Try," she said.
Gage opened his mouth and closed it again. His throat would not permit him to speak, allowing nothing more than a faint croaking noise. Gage grimaced, heat prickling all over him. Then he reached up. For a moment, Jack raised an eyebrow, frowning in a way that said, 'Don't even think about it.'
He realised, with a pinch of shame, she was wary, waiting for his reaction now the gun was gone.
Never trust a raider. How often had he told her that?
Gage rested his palm against her cheek and Jack blinked in surprise. Carefully, he took her free hand with his own, pressing it down above his racing heart.
Her eyes widened, but she stayed where she was.
"I ain't good at talkin' about feelings," Gage muttered, fighting to hold her piercing stare. "But...but I can try actin' on 'em."
Jack drew in a small breath, as if she was about to speak, but stopped short. Silence filled the room, Gage's chest tight, his stomach churning. Her eyes grew brighter still and she blinked rapidly, clenching her jaw. He could feel her body trembling, every muscle tense.
Then she smiled. "Okay."
Gage sat up so sharply he nearly sent Jack flying. He caught her as she shrieked, dragging her into his arms. He needed her against him, needed to know this was real. That she'd let him hold her. That she wouldn't pull away.
Her breath was hot against his neck as he gripped her shirt, her hands massaging his back and shoulders, before running up to his head. Gage shifted his grip and suddenly, somehow, it was Jack holding him, pressing soft kisses to his cheek. Gage didn't resist.
He was hers.