After Dr. Waters and Mark bid him farewell, Jamie continued to sit at the butcher block table, pain continuing to bore directly into the center of his forehead. This migraine was much stronger than the others and he brought a hand to his sweaty brow.
'Why am I soaked?'
The thought crossed his mind yet again, the feel of the clinging fabric of his shirt making him hiss in disgust. But something else was amiss.
'My glasses?' he panicked.
His hands dropped to the tabletop as he glanced over the surface in confusion. Jamie knew he had them on; he always made sure his glasses were in place when he got up for the day. While his vision wasn't completely fucked, things were much clearer when he wore them.
The black frames were nowhere in sight. Jamie struggled to think back over the past couple hours but was coming up with a blank. There seemed to be a large hole in his memory of that morning. The nervous man knew he would never have just dozed off when the doctor was visiting. And Mark had been standing in the kitchen as well.
Why couldn't he remember his friend coming over? Why did his jaw and neck ache so badly?
As he pondered the list of questions, a voice at his elbow made him jump, the chair legs clattering on the wooden floor as he did so.
"You might want these, darling," David advised with a wink, looking up at Jamie from the floor, the black frames laying in his palm.
Goddamn, Jamie swore. He hadn't even heard the bathroom door open.
"I'm going to have to put a bell on you if you keep that shit up," he growled at the grinning tyrant.
David rolled his eyes and pulled a faux pout.
"Just trying to be helpful, dear Jamie," he soothed.
The grey-haired man narrowed his eyes and shook his head.
"Since when?"
David didn't respond as he maneuvered himself back into his wheelchair.
Jamie continued to glare at him reproachfully.
"What now?" the former warlord sighed, spreading his arms.
Jamie huffed in annoyance as he went to wipe his lenses on his shirt before recalling it was wet. This led to long, thick smears coating the glass.
'Fuck!'
"Since when have you been able to do all that? Get yourself in and out of your chair? Because I've been led to believe I have to lift you like a porcelain doll to transfer you," he accused. "And why the hell am I dripping sweat?"
David wheeled himself up beside his companion and swiftly plucked the black frames from his fingers.
"Hey!"
"Easy, I'm just trying to help," the man chided before rolling to the sink to rinse and polish up the spectacles.
Using his own shirt, David wiped the lenses clean and held them up to the light to check for smudges. As he looked through the glasses, he made a sorrowful tsk-tsk.
"Damn, your vision sucks, Jamie!"
"Wasn't anything wrong with my eyes until your hateful ass came along," Jamie shot back. "Can't imagine all the chemicals, the starvation, the beatings did my sight any favors."
Silently, David parked next to the other man's chair and gently handed the glasses over. Jamie carefully reached out and accepted them as if waiting for a viper to strike.
"Thanks," he mumbled, placing them back on his face. "How's your lip by the way?"
It was David's turn to huff.
"Do you really care?"
"I asked."
The tyrant shrugged dismissively.
"It's fine. I've suffered worse injuries than that."
"Huh," Jamie laughed, cheekily, unable to help himself. "Me too."
Releasing the lock on the wheelchair, David turned his chair toward the living room door.
"Such a smart-ass," he sighed. "Like you've always been."
Turning his head to glance over his shoulder at Jamie, he added with a wink, "Speaking of asses, I rather miss yours. Back in the day, I'd have bent you over that table and fucked the manners back into you, poppet."
Instead of an angry outburst, Jamie merely smiled as he pushed his chair back and stood. His migraine seemed to be easing to a low rumble, also improving his outlook.
"Well, David, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but these days? Even if I dropped my pants right now and leaned across this table, you wouldn't be tall enough to ride me," he taunted.
Sidestepping the asshole, Jamie moved through the doorway to grab clean clothes from his room so he could shower.
It must have a been a mood that morning because David howled with laughter, clutching his stomach, head tipping back. Jamie turned and raised a brow at him. Sputtering, the man attempted to speak, to explain what he found so rip-roaring hilarious.
"I'm…sure…you've got…" David managed to eek out. "A stepstool."
Jamie stared at his reddened, tear streaked face for a moment, the imagery of the ridiculous scene flashing before his eyes. He clamped a hand over his mouth but not before he also snorted with laughter.
"I assure you, darling," David finally panted. "I'd make it work. Where there's a will, there's a way!"
Jamie tried stifling his giggles as he shouldered the bedroom door open and went to his dresser. Their shared lunacy really wasn't that funny, he knew that objectively. What he knew of Drakkon's and Red's relationship, the two had been downright bonkers together.
Maybe some of this was residual? But better laughing than crying.
He grabbed when he needed and exited back into the living room where David was finally calming down, wiping his eyes with both hands. He noted the fresh clothing and Jamie's trajectory to the bathroom.
"Need help washing your back?" he smirked, already knowing Jamie was going to tell him to fuck off.
"What if I said yes?" Jamie surprised him instead.
For a split second, the tyrant's eyes widened in shock and arousal.
"Well, then darling, I'd say I'm available to wash more than just your back," he growled.
With a saucy air, Jamie flipped him the finger, actually most playfully.
"Really? You fell for that? Not in this fucking universe," he grinned.
To his surprise, instead of an acidic comeback or hateful insult, David looked hurt. His arms crossed over his chest protectively and he looked away from Jamie abruptly. Fresh tears were reflected briefly before he did so.
"What? There's no way I managed to hurt your feelings," Jamie insisted. "After the shit you've put me through?"
Without looking at him, David barked sharply.
"At least get me my art supplies before you go in there!"
Sighing, Jamie spun back into the bedroom and hunted through David's possessions before finding the art tin and sketch pad. He briskly strode over to the tyrant and held it out. David stared at it a moment, a tear rolling down his cheek before he angrily swiped at it.
"Here," Jamie prodded, confused at the swift shift in emotion.
Instead of snatching it roughly, he accepted it gently.
"Thanks," he whispered softly, sniffing lightly and refusing to look at Jamie.
Jamie frowned and knelt as close as he dared.
"What is wrong with you? Ever since our 'reunion', you've cried more times than I can even remember ever seeing before," he asked, putting an awkward hand on David's shoulder.
Now, tear-filled eyes risked a look into Jamie's. He shrugged as fresh drops rolled down his cheeks.
"I'm fucking crazy. Remember, my brain is disintegrating into mush. I know how I would react before but that's not what happens now. I just…" he trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he was feeling in this moment.
"I want…" he tried again.
A splatter of rain suddenly pelted the windowpanes, making them both flinch unconsciously. The sun had disappeared behind dark clouds and the branches of nearby trees swayed languidly in a now gusty wind.
Turning back from the scene outside, Jamie caught David's attention with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, the other hand lifting to cover the tyrant's.
"What DO you want?" Jamie asked, genuinely curious.
Slowly, David's eyes moved from the window back to Jamie's face, looking at him with some concern; it was unusual as this was a true concern, not Red's brainwashed adoration/devotion, nor Jason's feigned feelings to fend off more hell. It was hard to keep in mind that Jamie was a 'different person' in some respects. Although Red was still a constant voyeur behind those beautiful eyes, David tried to find honest words.
To get it out in the open and see where the chips fell.
"I know I what I did to Jason and Red was beyond fucked up, Jamie. There's no way I can ever make up for what I did, I know that. I don't expect you to believe me or trust me. I understand why you can't. But I don't want to be who I was anymore."
He swallowed nervously, afraid of what Jamie might say or how he was going to react.
"I'm tired of always being so angry and aggressive, lonely, afraid. I've never had anyone I felt was truly in my corner, who really cared about me. The closest I ever had was Red and that was only a result of what I did to Jason."
Jamie's eyes had lowered to look at his hand covering David's as he listened, unsure what he was feeling.
"I guess what I want is a chance to start over. With you. To try a different way. Not have this unhealthy, violent dynamic between us. I don't expect you to treat me any differently or automatically change how you feel. I can only change myself, as my shrinks often insisted. I know I've jabbed at you and instigated your anger, but that was always our interaction before. It's a bad habit."
He felt somewhat comforted to still feel the weight of Jamie's hand over his and the soothing grip on his shoulder.
"I've seen shrinks and taken more medications to try to fix me than I can count. To be fair, I never gave any of it a chance. It wasn't going to fix what was going on at home. My rage has always been cutting, even to myself."
Jamie swallowed and took a slow breath as he considered what David had just confessed. The pitiful man didn't expect him to do anything differently, which was eye opening in itself. Normally, if Jason or Red didn't respond in the desired manner immediately, there was hell to pay. Some of David's odd behavior in the kitchen from last night started to make a little sense given this new context.
"What does this 'starting over with me' look like, David? Was last night when you were helping me with dishes part of that change?" he whispered.
David felt his cheeks flush.
"I guess. Since you came back, I'd been fantasizing about…" he stopped, not sure if he was brave enough to come clean with his daydreams.
Jamie had a brow cocked now, knowing anything dancing around in that nuthouse of David's brain was usually disgusting, illegal, immoral, or all of the above.
"I know what you're thinking and it wasn't that. Not exactly," David grumbled. "For some reason, I kept imagining what it would have been like if we'd always been this way. No Jason or Red or Drakkon or Rangers. No good or evil. I was 'trying on' a daydream of a normal relationship with two normal people in love. Or what I think it looks like. I don't have a good example to fall back on."
Jamie nodded now as he considered what his companion was saying.
"I got caught up in the dream, I suppose," David finished. "So, what now? You going to laugh at me? Scream at me? Punch me in the face? I'm not downplaying what I did to Jason and Red, just so you know. But I'm unsure what to do about all that now."
The grey-haired man settled back on his haunches as he tried to decide what he felt deep inside. David was saying all the right things, but of course, he would know what boxes to tick. On the other side, he didn't expect Jamie to trust him or believe him. It would make it easier living together for however long this situation was going to last if they could stop provoking each other.
"Well, David, I don't feel the urge to scream, yell, or punch you," he answered honestly. "As long as you understand that I'm not going to fully trust you or expect much. But as long as you treat me with respect and courtesy, I'll do the same. Fair enough? You don't jab at me; I won't jab at you."
"That's fair," David whispered.
He looked intently into Jamie's eyes again, knowing Red was watching and listening. He wanted the pet to hear this too even if the canine thought he was full of shit.
"For what its worth, Jamie, I am sorry about Jason and Red going through what I did to them. I want them to know that, too."
Jamie's head tilted in thought as realization dawned on him.
"I remember what you said before the doctor came. About asking about dissociative identity disorder. You weren't asking for yourself, were you?"
Still holding the unique gaze, David answered truthfully.
"No, I was asking about you."
The rain suddenly pelted harder and the wind whipped through the trees, tearing a scattered assortment of leaves. Thunder rumbled low and deep. There was a loud snap from yard outside.
Standing quickly, Jamie went to the window to see what caused the noise. He hissed a curse when he noticed Jasper's pen had a split slat laying haphazardly and the smug asshole was trotting off through the rain into the tree line.
"Goddammit!"
David rolled up beside Jamie to peer out.
"What?"
"Jasper's out. I've gotta go get her," Jamie griped.
"Can I help?" David asked hesitantly.
Jamie glanced at him, his lips twitching.
"How?"
David shrugged.
"It's wet out there," Jamie pointed out.
David turned his chair toward the kitchen and the outer door.
"Then perhaps we should hurry before it really opens up out there."