Page 57 of Uncharted

Great, drug runners, now there was a happy thought. And he was right; they typically avoided us because they didn’t like being spotted. Which was usually a good thing, but the bad part was that on the occasions they ran into other people…well, they really didn’t like witnesses.

“I’ll tell Xander,” Mav said. “We’ll have to start carrying again.”

“We’ll have to make sure Aidan and Leon can use guns,” I said, both of us knowing damn well the only other new person was Colin and there was no chance he didn’t know how to handle a gun. “You shouldn’t go out alone if ya think that’s true.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he said, and I sighed at his tone of finality, as if that covered the rest of the conversation.

Which, with Mav, that was the entire conversation, so I left him be to return to the medical building so I could catch a few zzzs. My sleep had been restless. I could chalk it up to the pain and discomfort, or even that I wasn’t sleeping where I was used to, but it was the dreams that kept waking me up.

I was grateful that Colin had been nice enough to get me a comfortable bed in the medical building, but I missed being in the main building. I collapsed on the bed and wished I was staring at a more familiar ceiling. Where I could hear the sounds of others moving around, or even hear them snore at night. Where I could be with Reno, waking up to him during one of his late nights as he played his game with headphones or doodled in his book.

Stripping down to my underwear, I dropped into bed and thought of the carefully drawn doodles of plants and trees, and drifted off to sleep. I had thought I was safe from my dreams because the sun was out and it was only a nap. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy; I really should have.

The worst part was that I never knew what the dreams were about. All I could remember, and in the vaguest way possible, was a sense of utter darkness, pain, and a cold so awful it trapped me. And the worst part: the dreams didn’t just scare the fuck out of me and jolt me awake, they held onto me until I was covered in sweat and screaming myself awake.

Its grip was tight as I lay in that darkness, fighting to get out, screams trapped in my throat.

And then there was warmth, pressure on my arm, and a presence nearby.

I lurched up; the darkness replaced by the harsh glare of light and a shadow nearby. Out of reflex, I swung, and the shadow stumbled back with a cry of surprise that was far too human to be anything but⁠—

“Fuck,” I gasped, vision clearing, fog lifting. “Reno, holy fuck, I’m so⁠—”

He was there in an instant, a hand on my face cupping it gently, the other against my chest right over my heart. His eyes were wide, almost wet, as he stared at me, eyes darting over my body and back to my face. I remembered then the first time I had ever distinguished between Mika and Reno, even though they didn’t dress differently and their hair hadn’t been all that different.

It was the eyes; it was always in the eyes. Mika’s were always so focused, sometimes softening when someone, usually his brother, spoke to him, but alert and guarded. Reno’s were almost always soft and gentle, soaking up smiles and laughter, and ready to curl up in the corners.

“Jake,” he said softly, stroking the side of my face. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

“I tried to hit you, what the hell do you mean am I okay?” I asked with a gasp. Holy shit, I had put my everything into that swing.

“I was…ready for it when you sat up and I saw the look in your eyes, and when you looked at me⁠—”

“Fuck, I⁠—”

“Don’t apologize. You weren’t you. Jesus, Jake.”

I opened my mouth to apologize again but closed it as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine. I reached up with my right hand and gripped his shoulder; it was rougher than I would have liked, but having him there brought out a desperation I normally clamped down on when I woke alone. His breathing was sharp, but I realized it was slowing quickly, becoming even and deep, and without meaning to, my breathing mirrored his.

“A dream,” I said. “Just a dream, I swear it.”

“Jake,” he said softly and sat on the edge of the bed, staying close like he knew I needed him. “Have you been having night terrors again?”

I stared at him and blinked. “I-I dunno.”

“You don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “God, why are you like this?”

“Uh, all I can say to that is the word I ain’t supposed to be usin’,” I told him sheepishly.

He smiled, looking me over. “Hey, I’m going to get up, but I’m only going into the bathroom, okay?”

“I’m not a little kid,” I muttered, yet when he got up, I felt an ache in my chest at the loss of his presence. He didn’t go far like he said, and he came back with a wet washcloth he pressed against my forehead, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“You’re burning up,” he said. “Keep that there; I’m going to get another one to wipe down your chest a bit. You’re soaked.”

“I’ll just take a shower,” I told him. “It’s fine.”

“Stop,” he snapped, and when my head did the same in his direction, he winced. “I mean it, stop. Just…stay there, okay? Give me a couple of minutes.”