Jessie grew quiet, but John knew she hadn't fallen asleep, she was holding him so tight, he could feel her blink against him. Her clothes were damp with sweat and he could feel her shivering. He ran his fingers through the back of her hair.
"Hey, are you okay?"
She nodded against his chest.
"You should change your clothes...you're cold...and I need to take a look at your wrist. It's bleeding again." He could feel a wet spot on his back, where her left arm was wrapped around him. "Jessie..."
She let go of him and sat up. She looked at her bloody wrist. The bandage had come undone and the wounds John had taped closed earlier were now open and bleeding steadily. She felt dizzy.
"Hey, hey...easy." John put his hands on her shoulders to steady her as she started to sway. He reached around him and pulled the first-aid kit towards him. "Don't worry about this." He held her arm gently. "I'll take care of it." He took what was left of the old bandage off and gently pulled the tape up, that had come loose from the edge of her cuts, and started to wipe away the blood. When the cuts were cleaned, he eyed her wrist closer, it didn't look good. The skin surrounding the cuts was red, inflamed and felt warmer than the rest of her. 'Great...infection is not good right now.' He said to himself, then to her. "It looks okay, but I have to clean it..." He said hesitantly. "...like we did mine...with the whiskey."
She nodded wordlessly.
"Lay down, it'll be easier...relax...it'll be over before you know it."
Jessie laid down and put her left arm out to John and her right across her eyes, so she couldn't see anything. "Do it."
John poured the whiskey on to her wrist and immediately felt bad about it when she cried out. He remembered how it felt, vividly, and he hated that she had to feel it too, again. He waited thirty seconds, giving the whiskey time to soak in, and then washed it away with water. He looked at her. Her arm was still across her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's done, Jess. I just gotta put the bandage on, okay?"
Jessie had held her breath in anticipation. When the whiskey entered her cuts she cried out and gasped, it felt like someone punched her in the stomach. The air left her lungs and she had to scream at herself, in her head, to not pass out. When she felt the water rush over her arm and push the whiskey away, she relaxed and was able to catch her breath. She tried to control the way her voice came out when she answered him, but it was still shaky and uneven. "Yeah, I'm okay."
He bandaged her wrist and moved her other arm away from her eyes, he smiled. "All done."
She sat up and looked at the bandage on her wrist. "Thank you. I'm sorry...about before...the dream and all." She said sheepishly.
"Don't apologize for that." He touched her shoulder. "You're still shivering...you should change out of those clothes."
She reached for her bag and went through it, pulling out a fleece pullover and a pair of sweatpants. "Where?"
"I'll go over there," He pointed to the far side of the bunker. "Just tell me when you're done."
Jessie watched as he stood up, went to the other side of the bunker and turned his back to her, then started to change her clothes.
"Ya know, " John said from across the room. "We slept for quite a while, it might be a new day."
"Maybe," Jessie said pulling the fleece over her head. "It sure felt like a long time... I'm done."
He turned around and walked back to her. "Feel better?"
"A little."
He sat down next to her and pulled her into a one-armed hug. She rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder and he rested his cheek on the top of her head. "It might help if you talk about it."
"I don't see how." She said quietly.
"After my Mother died... I had nightmares too. I would wake up screaming and crying...I just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. A few months later my Grandfather realized the nightmares weren't gonna go away on their own, so he took me to see someone...a Psychiatrist."
"Did it help?"
"Not at first...cause I wouldn't let it...but then she made me realize something...that I blamed myself for my Mother's accident. I thought that if I wasn't so weak...Dad wouldn't have beat up on us...that if I just became who he wanted me to be...we would've been back in Boston and she'd still be alive. She took us away to protect me...so of course, I felt her death was my fault."
"Dad told me, you thought he was responsible for your mom's death. That somehow, he found out where you were hiding and made the accident happen."
"I did." He admitted, regret in his voice. "I did blame him."
"Do you still believe it?"
"No. It was an accident...I think I've always known...I was just so angry, it felt good to blame him."
"So, after you blamed him, the nightmares went away?"
"No, God, no." He said adamantly. "After I acknowledged my own guilt feelings, they went away. Well, they never really went away...I still have them sometimes...but that one... that one that made me wish I had died with her... the one that came back night after night...that one never came back. I can barely remember it now, but I remember how it made me feel helpless and lost...like I was sinking in a dark hole with cement blocks tied around my ankles. I tried not to feel anything at all...to empty myself completely and pretend like I didn't care but-"
"That hurt even more...and it didn't hurt just you." Jessie finished for him. She knew that feeling.
John nodded. "Exactly. Hey, I'm no Psychiatrist, but you can talk to me...tell me about your dream."
"Why does it have to hurt so much?"
He lifted his head and kissed the top of her head. "I don't know." He rested his cheek on top of her head again and pulled her closer to him.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Jessie made up her mind to talk to him.
"He kept saying ...'Sometimes you just don't think. Now, look what you've done.' over and over again."
"Who?"
"Dad...he was in our car...at the accident, but he looked like he did after...after he got shot. Mom was dead, in the front seat and Travis' was crying in the back, but I couldn't see him...I just saw smoke. I couldn't open Travis' door and Dad wouldn't help me. He just kept saying 'Sometimes you just don't think. Now, look what you've done.' He scared me. Then, Uncle Roy came...he was holding me...Dad told me I had to go with him cause everyone was gone..." She stopped, her body hitching as she held back the sobs, that threatened to return with the memories of her dream.
It's okay." He rocked her until she calmed. "Why do you think he kept saying that?"
"I don't know. He was never in my dreams about Travis' before...no one was. It might not have been that bad, maybe...if he hadn't been so scary. It was like he was angry with me...like he was at... " A little light came on in her head.
"What?"
"Like he was at home...when I left the penthouse to talk to Joey...before Susan's funeral. He said it to me then. He said 'Sometimes you don't think'..."
"He wasn't really mad at you, you know that right? He wanted you to go to the safe-house right away...he knew the only way you would go without him, is if you thought he was angry with you. He just wanted you safe...he felt bad about it afterward. Robert said it took all he had not to go upstairs after you and tell you the truth. So, get it out of your head that he died angry with you, cause it's not true. He died loving you...wanting to keep you safe."
"I just wish I could've talked to him...before." She thought for a moment. "He changed in the end...after I started to wake up...he was more like him and he was holding Travis. He said I couldn't go with them...that I had to wake up cause you were calling me."
"What about Langston? Where was he?"
"He disappeared when Dad changed. One minute, he was holding me...the next he was gone."
"Why do you think he was in it at all?"
"I don't know...I guess cause of everything that happened."
"That's what you think?"
"I guess...I mean, sure." She pulled away from him and looked up. "Is there something else? What do you think?"
"Think about it, it will come?"
"What? You know? How could you know?" She was getting angry now. "It wasn't you Langston was putting his hands all over...or your throat he was trying to stick his tongue down when you were twelve!..." She stood up and looked down at him. "And you're not the reason all those people died!" She started to pace. "Susan...Sal! Why?! Why did Sal have to do it?! He could've left it alone...he could've said something...he could've got it right and killed that son-of-a-bitch! Now everyone's gone because he tried to protect me!" Then, almost whispering. "He did it for me." She laughed. "Me."
John watched as she started pacing again. He stood up, walked over to her and stood in her path. "Nothing they did was your fault." He put both hands on her shoulders and shook her gently to get her to focus on him. Her eyes found him slowly. "Nothing Langston and his crew did...and nothing Sal did. They did it all on their own. Sal loved you...he wouldn't let anyone hurt you...never. Langston is the only one responsible for all of it. He lived...he had a second chance and instead of going on with his life, he opted for revenge. Hopefully, Krieger took care of the sick bastard. Hopefully, he's rotting in Hell, right about now." He pulled her into a hug. "You are not responsible for anyone's actions but your own, Jessie, and you haven't done anything wrong. Don't feel guilty about any of this, okay? Just let it go."
She pulled away from him, half-smiling. "I thought you said you weren't a psychiatrist?"
"Sam must be rubbing off on me. How'd I do?"
"Thank you."
"That good, huh?" John smiled, brightly.
"Don't let it go to your head...and next time, just tell me if you know something."
"Sometimes it helps to figure it out on your own, Jess. You...uh...haven't said anything about Travis being in your dream-"
Jessie shook her head. "I can't go there, John...not yet. I'm not ready."
"Good enough. Whenever you are...I'm here." He pretended to look at his watch. "Time's up, just leave your billing address with my secretary and she'll set up another appointment."
Jessie laughed.
John grinned. Jessie was laughing and it gave him some hope. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."
"Yeah, I'm kinda hungry too."
"C'mon, table or booth?"
"You're crazy."
"There's plenty of the-"
"I'm not eating those little sausage things, John."
John laughed. "But they're good."
"Not eating them, buddy...sorry."
They sat down, side by side, leaning against the wall. The 'snack pack' lay between them and they each had a bottle of water at their side.
"Okay, would you like to know tonight's specials?"
"It better be a Twinkie."
Tbc...
