Killian was asleep upstairs.
Well, asleep might be a stretch - he had succumbed to the inevitable side effects of the painkillers and antibiotics that Whale had forced on him - but he was upstairs in his bed.
Safe.
Home.
Safe.
So why was Liam sitting down in their home office at three a.m., drinking scotch that was older than both of them combined and staring at the laptop like it held the secrets of the universe?
Because Killian was asleep upstairs, but part of Liam wasn't entirely sure that he was safe. Not from himself. Not from his own convictions.
And certainly not from Liam's decisions.
Orders.
Commands.
Liam Jones, formerly Captain in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, currently commanding officer at JR Solutions, always Killian's older brother, couldn't stop replaying the images in his head. He didn't need the video that was heavily encrypted on his computer so that Killian wouldn't find it, but he hit play anyway.
Again.
For the dozenth time. Or maybe the hundredth.
Since Killian had come home.
Never mind how it had played practically on loop from the moment he got it in his inbox to the moment Killian had shown up in his office, bloody beaten and broken, and collapsed at his feet.
He could see the images in his sleep, in his waking hours, in his brother's face every time Killian looked at him with half-lidded eyes.
Liam could see the betrayal, the disappointment, the abandonment in Killian's eyes.
Or maybe that was his own misgivings over what happened. Liam wasn't really sure of anything any more. Except for one thing.
Killian was asleep upstairs.
He thought.
God, what if he wasn't? What if this was all some sort of nightmare?
Liam left the scotch behind as he practically bolted up the stairs, only just able to kerb his frantic run before he burst into Killian's room and frightened him awake.
Assuming Killian was actually in there.
Hand shaking, breath caught in his chest, Liam turned the doorknob, eyes tightly shut in case the room was empty.
Liam heard the slightly hitched breaths from the boy… no, Killian hadn't been a boy in a very long time… from his brother, sleeping peacefully in the bed. In his room. In their home - no matter that Killian refused to call it that.
Killian was there, safe and asleep and no longer in some madman's clutches because Liam had screwed up.
He should go back downstairs. Or better yet, to try and sleep in his own bed. He had a few hours before Killian needed to be woken for more antibiotics. A few hours before the painkillers wore off enough to let him fall into the nightmares that plagued his sleep.
A few hours before he would beg Liam to save him, beg for his big brother to find him.
A few hours before he would wake up terrified and clammy, brushing off any of Liam's attempts to help free him from the sheets and blankets.
Liam took three steps forward, turned back to the door, and then threw it all to the wind, creeping over to Killian's side and just sitting at the foot of the bed. Unbidden, his hand crept out to wrap around his brother's bare ankle - cold from being stuck out from the blankets like he'd done since he was a little boy.
Killian Jones never could sleep unless he had one foot sticking off the side of the bed, sock only half on and cutting into his arch.
Killian was there, he was safe, and he was going to heal.
It didn't make Liam feel any better.
Because his brother couldn't sleep on his stomach like he normally did, the bruises and the burns too painful to touch the soft sheets Liam changed before they could get scratchy. Because his brother couldn't sleep more than a few hours at the time and only because of the medications that he took without complaint.
Because the one time he tried to get away with not taking the meds, he'd woken up screaming and arching off the bed, unable to relax his muscles until Whale had driven across town and injected him with goddamned morphine. And then apologized for frightening Liam and putting Victor out.
Because all of this was, unequivocally, Liam Jones's fault.
He didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve to sit here and watch his brother sleep. He hadn't earned that right yet. He still had so much to atone for, from the gauze wrapped around his brother's temple to the lacerations on his back, from the torn muscles to the swelling around the shoulder that had been badly and repeatedly dislocated, from the infection that raged rampant through Killian's body to the nightmares and the waking memories.
Forcing himself to stand, to walk away from Killian's peaceful sleep, that was the penance that Liam Jones deserved.
But he'd never believed himself to be strong, not like Killian was, so Liam knew that it would only be a few fingers of scotch and a few hours - at most - before he was back at his brother's side.
Because Liam Jones may be formerly a Captain in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, currently the commanding officer at JR Solutions, and always - always - Killian's older brother, but he was also a selfish man.
And he needed his brother.