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Mom... Please keep this safe. It's more than me. It's more than me, Mom, please—
Simon jolted awake, breathing rapidly. Everything was heavy, his movements felt like they were trapped within sludge—
Blood.
Hull Breach...
Blood was seeping in through the cracked hull, the pressure shattering the visor. The crimson sea seared his skin, dipping its claws into his veins and ripping out flesh and bone. It was in his lungs, depleting his oxygen and suffocating him under its boiling mass—
"—vict..? Convict."
A raspy voice broke his muddled train of thought, bringing him to a foreign present. He wasn't in the bottom of the blood ocean. He wasn't in the SM-13, in the midst of a suicide mission he never signed on for. His head snapped to the side, eyes struggling to adjust to wakefulness. The figure of the other man tensed, arms braced against the bed across from Simon's. His head was tilted slightly in the wrong direction, minute twitches of his hands breaking his otherwise still visage.
The man spoke again, the lilt of his accent breaking the stifling silence of the enclosed room.
"...You awake then?"
Simon struggled to sit up and the other man seemed to cringe back, inhaling sharply as though bracing for something. When Simon froze, staring at him critically, the other man seemed to breathe again, licking his lips.
"Care to say something so I know I'm not just fucking talking to myself, Convict?"
"That's not my name." Simon all but growled, teeth grinding together as he pushed himself upright despite the pain.
The stranger flinched, shifting to face Simon more head on. It was then that it finally registered that this wasn't a completely unfamiliar face.
The COI mechanic.
Reality dawned on Simon as he stared, momentarily forgetting his anger. The mechanic's eyes were vacant, a milky gray settled in a thick, murky lens over what used to be vibrant blue irises. He looked...lost. He kept fidgeting, tilting his head slightly in an effort to hear everything he couldn't see, as though his other senses could pick up the slack his eyes had left behind.
"Admiring your handiwork, Convict?" The mechanic sneered, hands curling into fists against the rumpled sheet he sat upon.
Simon snapped, seeing red.
"I told you that's not my fucking name!"
He started upright, staggering with his balance thrown off by his missing arm; pain pulsing insistently throughout the phantom limb. The mechanic tried to stand, struggling to find his footing. He braced, breaths shaky as he tilted his head in Simon's direction.
"You didn't much care to know my name before you fucking irradiated me." The mechanic spat, taking uncertain steps backwards, one hand slightly outstretched to catch himself against the wall opposite Simon's current position. Simon took a few steps forwards, scowling.
"You welded me shut in that death trap— and nobody fucking told me the camera was an x-ray on steroids!"
The mechanic scoffed, jaw clenched and shoulders visibly tensed.
"It should've been bloody common sense!" The mechanic snarled, shoulders trembling. "And I didn't have a choice. We all have a part to play, and mine—" The tension seeped from his body as he let out a shaky breath, brows furrowed. "—Mine is over. The COI has no need for me anymore. That's why they stuck me in here with you."
He pushed off the wall, hand outstretched as he took a step forward, managing to catch the corner post of his bed to guide himself.
"Everyone's convinced you came back different. They're scared, but they couldn't leave you alone. They needed someone to..." He scoffed, bitter, "...watch you."
His voice was hoarse, accent rough like gravel against the silent backdrop of their enclosure. Simon stared at the engineer incredulously, lips pulled back in a snarl. The silence dragged out, the mechanic taking another step forward, head tilted with pinched brows and evident focus.
Simon stared and the mechanic listened, both waiting for a signal only they could comprehend. Simon felt stupid, glaring daggers at a man who couldn't see. It didn't stop the rage boiling in his chest, pulsing through his veins. The mechanic's heart raced, exhaling slowly before he spoke.
"...Jack."
"What?" Simon spat out the word like a curse, hand balled into a fist at his side as he was left fantasizing about flesh meeting bone, a sickeningly beautiful crunch.
"It's my fucking name—" The mechanic—Jack—raised his voice, scowling. "You going to tell me yours or are you just going to keep biting my head off?"
"It's...Simon." He relented, out of his element. He studied Jack's face, searching for deception. All he recognised was a specific brand of defeat; one he knew well.
Jack reached a hand out hesitantly, raised for a handshake.
"Uhm—" Simon murmured eloquently, grimacing. "Switch hands."
Jack looked confused, but obliged, reaching out with the opposite hand. Simon had to step forwards, grasping Jack's hand firmly. Jack flinched, a sharp breath betraying how startled he was by the contact.
"Fuck me—" Jack hissed, withdrawing his hand. "When did you get so close?" He took a half step back, swallowing visibly.
"I— Sorry." Simon faltered, brows furrowing as he put distance between them. He was responsible for Jack's condition...that knowledge weighed heavily on his chest, nestled in deep next to his heart.
"Don't look at me like that." Jack ground out, accent thicker with frustration. Simon was caught off guard, schooling his expression despite the fact he knew Jack couldn't possibly have any vision left.
"With pity." Jack clarified, scoffing. "If you want to be of help, guide me." He took a step forwards, waiting. Simon fumbled, confused. He raked his hand through his tangled hair, grimacing as the knots caught.
"Okay, Uhm. I'm five steps ahead of you, your bed is...three steps to your right, mine is four to your left." He spoke as he estimated the distances, looking back to Jack. Jack gave a slow nod, trying to ground himself in the space. Nobody had tried to tell him where anything was so far...everyone just wanted to grab him and lead him to things like a dog. Simon made him feel human again, and despite how much he wanted to hate the convict, guilt sat leaden in his chest.
He could claim he was just playing the role he was given as much as he wanted, but that wouldn't bring back Simon's arm. It wouldn't bring back his own vision. They were both just cogs in the machine, disposable assets to the COI. Jack saw that clearer now than he ever had with his own eyes.
Jack stepped towards Simon, extending his hand slightly in front of him. His fingers brushed skin, curling around Simon's arm with a tilt of his head.
"Can I touch you?" Jack asked quizzically, like it was a normal line. Simon felt himself flush, sputtering.
"Your face, Simon." He amended with a tired huff, "I don't know what you look like. Touch is how I see now, can you give me that chance?"
If Simon didn't know better, he would've sworn Jack was looking right at him with the way he directed his head, one brow raised in question. He was incredibly expressive, so painfully human. Simon nodded dumbly, realising his mistake.
"Uhm, I just nodded—"
"I figured." Jack snorted, making it clear he would roll his eyes if he could.
They both fell silent as Jack trailed his hand up Simon's bicep, smoothing over the fabric of his shirt. He reached the juncture of Simon's neck and shoulder, his other hand lifting to meet the opposite edge of Simon's jaw. Jack's brows were pinched in concentration, fingers deftly etching a more concrete image of Simon in his mind. He found his cheekbones, feeling his own flush as he withdrew his hands, trying to turn away.
"Right, that's good enough—" Jack stopped as Simon caught his wrist, the convict losing his balance slightly but managing.
"You only felt the edges of my face, you can keep going. I dont..." Simon trailed off, changing course, "I owe you at least this."
Jack bit the inside of his cheek, giving a slow nod. "Alright." He allowed Simon to guide his hands back to his face, the firm touch around his wrist lingering for a moment longer than was necessary. Jack could feel the heat of Simon's blush against his fingertips, chasing the warmth with gentle patterns. He could feel Simon's gaze searching his face in much the same way his own fingers traced.
Jack cleared his throat quietly, head tilting. "Could you close your eyes?" Before Simon even opened his mouth, Jack continued. "I've not really done this before, and I don't want to hear you whine if I miscalculate and stab you in the eye."
Jack's blush undermined his harsh tone, but Simon still scoffed as he closed his eyes. Jack's fingertips skimmed over Simon's brows and closed eyelids as the convict spoke.
"You said that Ava found me...what about the black box?"
Jack's hands continued their careful passage, mapping the crooked bridge of Simon's nose and the pout of his lips; the expanse of his facial hair and squared off jawline.
"...I don't know. She stopped telling me things when she realised I'd never be able to return to her crew again." Jack's voice tilted towards blasé, but his hands trembled slightly in their task.
He was hurt, of course he was. Ava had been like family, but after the failure of the SM-8 she had pulled away, growing more and more distant. Jack hardly knew her these days. He'd helped her with the SM-13 not just because it was his role, but because he wanted it to work. He had thought that if they could just find whatever it was Ava was convinced was out there, maybe he could have his friend back.
Then Simon came along.
Jack had only known the vaguest details about their selection process for who would go into the vessel. Ava had told him that the less he knew the better, and with how she'd been acting, he was inclined to agree.
When he got word they were using a prisoner of Eden he hadn't cared much...and when he'd heard that it was The Butcher, the executioner of Filament Station? He'd grabbed his welder and gotten to work on repairing the SM-13 without any further questions. The final welds to seal the Convict inside had given him a sick pleasure he'd have been scared of under any other circumstance. Instead, he'd felt proud. He was doing great work for the COI.
Now he was beginning to think everything he thought he knew was all one massive lie.
"...I am sorry, you know."
Jack felt the words just as much as he heard them, freezing in his tracks. Simon must've spotted something in Jack's face, because he continued.
"I was angry and scared. I didn't read the manuals fully because I was pissed at my situation and just wanted it to be over. Nobody was listening to me, and I knew the camera's flash would get some attention. I—" Simon inhaled sharply, voice wavering, "...If I could take it back, do things differently, I would. I understand if you hate me, I just wanted you to know that."
Jack let his hands skim down Simon's face, settling on the sides of his throat and squeezing slightly. Simon barely even flinched, his heart rate steady as he allowed Jack's anger to manifest in violence.
Jack's pulse hammered against his throat, breaths shaky as he squeezed, brows pinched. He could hear a stutter in Simon's heart rate and immediately let up, reeling back. He slammed his fists against Simons chest, head falling forward.
"Why the fuck won't you get angry back at me? I put you in there. It's because of me that you lost your bloody arm!" Jack sneered, shoving Simon with a growl.
Simon stepped back as Jack pushed, balance faltering slightly but ultimately staying steady. Looking at Jack, he saw a man who yearned for his own demise. It was a familiar sight; a reminder of his time in Eden. He didn't think it suited Jack at all.
"You didn't put me in there, Ava did. Just like she put you in here with me." Simon disputed, sitting down on his rickety bed. "I'm two steps to your left, your bed is three steps to your—" He cut himself off as Jack turned, hands balled into fists. "—three steps behind you. I'm not fighting you, Jack. I'm not...angry. Not at you, not anymore." Simon sighed, running his hand through his hair again and letting out a quiet hiss of pain.
Jack stiffened at the sound, brows furrowing. "What happened?"
Simon huffed a quiet sigh, withdrawing his hand from the knotted ends of his hair. "Nothing." He wasn't about to complain about his hair being matted. He was lucky it hadn't gotten shaved to make sure the blood was gone.
Jack didn't appreciate the lie, taking a few cautious steps forwards. He forgot how far the edge of Simon's bed was supposed to be, bumping right into it and tripping with a sharp inhale. He managed to catch himself against the mattress, stiffening slightly when Simon stilled. "Fuck me." He muttered quietly, pushing himself up to a sitting position and reaching a hand out with uncertainty. Simon got the message, extending his hand to meet Jack halfway, encircling his wrist.
"Do you know I have long hair?" Simon questioned quietly, watching Jack's expression as he brought the mechanic's hand up to feel the length of his curls. Jack's brows rose slightly, a small smile quirking at his lips as he tilted his head.
"...Huh." Jack caressed the length of hair, brows creasing as he got lost in thought. "Its tangled pretty badly, isn't it?"
Simon hummed in acknowledgement, giving a large enough shrug for Jack to feel it. "I need to wash it, feels like there's blood dried near my scalp..." He trailed off, grimacing. Jack caught the change in tone, huffing.
"There's a bathroom attached to this room. Guide me." Jack stood up, tilting his head as he tried to remember the layout of the room. Ultimately, he reached out for Simon's arm. He didn't mind being led to his destination if it was Simon...and wasn't that a foreign thought.
Simon was caught off guard, looking at Jack for an extended period before clearing his throat. "Okay, uhm." He hesitated, uncertainty digging its nails into his mind. Jack tightened his grip on Simon's bicep.
"Just take the lead, you don't have to explain where things are—just don't let me bump into anything." He explained quietly, finding himself...nervous? There was an odd sensation in his chest, one he couldn't name.
Simon nodded, a choked noise escaping him as he quickly tried to backtrack and apologise, because god why does he keep doing that? Jack just laughed, shaking his head slightly with a grin. "You're such a fuckin' dumbass."
The sound of Jack's laugh was coarse and pointed, but it was the most perfect thing Simon had heard in years. "Yeah," he breathed out softly, a smile twisting at his lips.
Simon belatedly remembered his need to guide Jack, side stepping quickly to pull the mechanic away from the door frame he was about to run into.
Jack stumbled, grip tightening around Simon's bicep. "Shit," he hissed, his other hand catching against Simon's chest.
Simon reached up to grab Jack's shoulder and steady him, heart pounding against his ribcage, begging to be known. "I'm sorry, are you okay? I got—distracted."
Jack scoffed, pushing off of Simon's chest to steady himself. "I'm sure being able to see is awfully distracting." He snapped, accent thick as he pulled away, backing up until his shoulder bumped the wall and he could recenter himself.
Simon's heart continued its assault on his sanity, beating loud enough he was sure Jack could hear. He took a step forwards, stopping when Jack tensed. "...I'm sorry."
They both knew the apology wasn't for his slip-up, just as they both knew words couldn't mend what had been stolen. Jack let out a thready scoff, shaking his head. His anger was palpable as he trailed his hand along the door frame, finding his way by touch.
Simon's chest felt tight. How could he fix this? He had no idea the camera was using x-rays. He hadn't known.
Eden scum. Simon's hand fell back to his side, fingers flexing.
"You know, if you want to kill me...I'd let you."
Jack gripped the door frame, blunt nails scraping at flaking paint as unseeing eyes turned to face Simon.
"Killing you wouldn't save me."
Jack spoke brazenly, hand shakily raising to tuck fallen hair behind his ear. "...And I noticed. In case you've forgotten, you tried to let me earlier." Jack muttered, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the door frame, jaw clenched.
"Aren't you fucking angry?" Jack snapped, hand closing into a tight fist, shaking. "You 'oughta be livid. Fuckin' pissed—why aren't you yelling?" He punched the wall, breaths ragged as he let out a strangled laugh.
Simon stared, conflicted. Jack was like a wounded animal, all fangs and claws waiting to lash out and mangle any who dared try and see past his exterior to his true, frightened nature. Because that was it, wasn't it? Jack was scared. He was fucking terrified. All he had known since being brought into the Coalition was his one role. Welder. Mechanic. But now...now what the fuck was he? He was another mouth to feed. A blind, useless husk of what Ava had needed him for.
Tell Jack I need one more weld. I don't care, hold him up if you have to!
Simon's hand clenched into a fist before falling loosely at his side, shaking his head.
"I don't— I don't like being angry. I'm tired of being angry." He admitted, voice wavering. "I've spent my whole life fighting against my nature, trying to prove that I'm not just—" He let out a breath, taking a step forwards, "—That I'm worth something."
"Bloody hell. You were a part of Eden, isn't your whole philosophy—" Jack started, voice angry, frustration brewing.
"—I didn't choose to be." Simon cut him off, voice raising with exasperation. "What none of you in the COI seem to understand is that I never got to choose. Any of it. Me trying to fight against Eden is what landed me in your prison in the first place!"
Jack rounded on him, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Oh, don't you fuckin' play that card, Butcher! You killed an entire battalion's worth. You did that. I don't think Eden held a gun to your skull and told you to tear us apart!" He snarled, shaking with anger.
Simon raised his voice, gesturing widely as he tried to interrupt, "I was—"
A sickening grin split Jack's face as he kept going, brows furrowed. "Oh, being with you is making me fucking crazy. How did I actually believe you were—"
A loud reverberating bang made Jack recoil, freezing in his tracks. "Would you Coalition fucks listen for once in your lives!" Simon yelled, breathing heavily as he pulled his fist from the metal wall, a dent left behind.
"What happened at Filament Station wasn't what I was told— I didn't know what Eden had planned! I was a kid. I was a kid, and I was going along with what the people who I considered brothers said was necessary. When I found out, I tried to stop it. I surrendered." Simon's pulse was racing, blinding him. He felt sick. He couldn't breathe. His breaths quickened, ragged as he clawed at his chest, choking on the lack of oxygen.
Jack tilted his head, shoulders tensed. He managed to find his voice, throat tight. "...Simon. Simon, what's—"
Jack heard as Simon braced against the wall, sliding down to the floor with ragged gasps. He felt more than processed as he followed suit, crouching by the Convict with hands raised, uncertain.
"Simon, hey. Look at me. Say something, I don't know what's happening. I can't see, okay? I need you to talk to me."
He sounded panicked, and oh, Simon didn't recognise the feeling burrowing in his chest alongside the tightness. The indescribable ache; the longing.
Simon's head felt like it was splitting. He was back in the SM-13, alone. There was a voice coming through the radio, one he didn't recognise. This person hadn't talked to him while he was on the expedition. But he knew the voice...how? He shouldn't. He hadn't spoken to anyone since—
Jack kept his hands raised, taking in a shaky breath. "Simon, I'm going to touch you, okay? I need you to let me know what...Fuck, just say something, please."
When he got no response, he spoke again, accent harder to understand as his speech quickened. "When someone comes to check on us, they're going to think I killed you—"
"They wouldn't care." Simon interrupted, voice raspy.
"Hey, no, I care. I'm not—" Jack licked his lips, a puff of air escaping him on an exhale. "I'm not a murderer." When Simon tensed, Jack cringed, jaw clenching.
"I wasn't saying— Look, it doesn't matter. I don't want this, and you owe me, right? So give me something here. I need you to talk to me."
His thoughts were muddled as he felt hands against his face, cold skin acting as a balm against the sweltering heat of the Iron Lung. He looked up, Jack's face swimming into focus; all crinkled brows and eyes conveying an astonishing amount of concern for a blind man.
Jack's fingers traced Simon's cheekbones, flitting upwards to tuck his tangled hair behind his ears and cup his jaw oh so gently.
"Breathe for me, Simon. Can you do that, pretty boy?"
His voice was hoarse, accent gently lilting as he caressed Simon's face like one would a piece of fine china, afraid it would shatter.
Simon managed to choke in a lungful of air, hand releasing its claw grip against his chest and rising to catch Jack around one wrist. He held on tight, as though afraid Jack would retreat at the barest notion of recovery.
"Thats a good boy. You can hear me, yeah? Match my breathing." He spoke evenly, trying to disguise the terror in his voice to the best of his ability. He dragged in an exaggerated breath: deep inhale, silence, slow, long exhale. Jack kept going, not letting up for fear of Simon slipping away into his mind once more, retreating to a corner that even Jack couldn't reach.
Simon felt a warmth bubbling under his skin, spreading across his features. It wasn't like the feeling of his blood boiling under the pressure of the sea of blood. It was unfamiliar yet pleasant, a kind of warmth akin to the beating light of the sun on a summer day...or so his mother had expressed to him when he was a child. He let himself lean into it, shaky breaths evening into a more familiar rhythm.
Jack let out one last exhale before clearing his throat, fingertips swiping under Simon's eyes softly, checking for tears in a motion he hadn't even stopped to consider. "Are you with me now?"
Simon nodded against Jack's hands, voice rapsy. "...Yeah." He kept his gaze lowered before recognising that it didn't matter, lifting his eyes to witness Jack's expressions. His lips were pressed together firmly, chapped yet plush.
Jack didn't know what to say. Whatever just happened...fuck, why was he lying to himself? The signs were clear as day. It was a panic attack. The mere mention of Filament Station was enough to send the Butcher into a state of catatonia.
"...Let's get up, yeah?" Jack asked softly, brows pinching together as he swiped his thumbs over Simon's cheeks one last time, withdrawing his hands.
Simon's grip slackened on Jack's wrist, clearing his throat roughly. "Yeah. Here—" He pushed himself up to a squat, reaching out to grab Jack's hand and pull him upright. Jack accepted the help, squaring his stance as he stood to steady himself.
Jack tugged at Simon's wrist, taking the lead this time. He kept one hand outstretched, knuckles tapping against the doorway as he made his way into the bathroom. He stopped about midway, reaching out blindly in front of him and finding the edge of the counter. He hummed quietly, retucking his hair behind his ear.
"Let's take a shower. I can help you wash the blood out of your hair." He suggested nonchalantly, releasing Simon's wrist and leaning back against the counter, tilting his head in the direction he knew Simon was standing.
Simon felt his face flush, suddenly very thankful Jack couldn't see him. "Wh-what? No, it's fine. I can— I don't need help." He settled on, rubbing his hand over his jaw awkwardly.
Jack snorted in amusement, shrugging. "We've got to ration water anyways, and its not like I can see you if you're worried about that."
Simon scoffed, trying to hide his embarrassment. Jack may not be able to see him, but he would definitely hear the way he was affected.
"I... You realise that I can see you though. Right?" He tried to explain without having to say it, face burning with that unbidden warmth.
Jack cocked his head to the side, a small grin on his lips. "Youre worried about me being naked, eh? I don't really care, it'll be easier for us both this way. You can tell me where things are so I don't make a fool of myself and I can help you get cleaned up."
Simon bit back a groan, knowing there was no way he could deny Jack's logic without giving away whatever this...thing he was feeling was.
"...Okay. Yeah, um. Sure."
Jack nodded, reaching back to snag the tie out of his hair, carding a hand through the tangled strands as they fell around his face. He clicked his tongue, head tilting away.
"Mind telling me where things are at?"
Simon kicked himself internally, cringing at his lack of thought. He really needed to get better at this...
"Fuck, right. Um... The room is pretty small, the shower is... two steps to your left. But, I— I can start it." He quickly amended, moving to tug back the curtain and twist the faucet on. He registered the vague sounds of rustling fabric, turning back to see Jack halfway undressed. He was lithe, but he had muscle tone and strong arms, characteristic of his job as a mechanic. He was unfastening his pants and shimmying out of them when Simon realised he was staring and pried his gaze away, cheeks aflame.
Jack heard a small choked noise from Simon and felt his own face warm, tilting his head away as he got out of the rest of his clothing, leaving the garments in a pile on the floor.
Simon just managed to pull his shirt off with a small hiss of pain as it caught around the remains of his left arm. He bit his lip, eyes screwing shut as he took in a shaky breath, unfastening his pants and tugging them off. He left his clothes on the floor in a similar fashion, glancing at his bandaged nub and grimacing.
Jack seemed to catch on, clearing his throat quietly. "Let me help you. What do you need?"
He didn't speak like it was a burden, nor with any semblance of pity or disdain. Simon let his shoulders drop, tension slipping away.
"Just, uh. The bandages on my arm." He mumbled, shifting to try and remove the gauze himself. Jack caught on quickly, tracing one hand lightly against the wall as he stepped over to Simon. He held his hands out silently, splayed open. Simon shifted closer, guiding his hands to the stump. Jack kept his touches light, finding the edge of the bandages and peeling away the tape. He unravelled the gauze, brows quirked together as he focused on avoiding unnecessary contact so as to not cause Simon any pain.
Once he was done he tossed the gauze to the side, unconcerned. Simon found himself staring down at the scarred remains like it was a foreign object and not what was left of his arm. Jack hummed quietly again, tilting his head.
"Come on. The water isn't going to get very warm, and it won't last long." Jack spoke, dragging Simon out of his spiraling thoughts.
"Right," He murmured, clearing his throat. He pushed the curtain back, helping guide Jack when he looked uncertain. The water was lukewarm, rivulets carving through the sweat and blood on his skin. Simon let out a shaky breath as the water cascaded over his bruised flesh, tinged red as it sluggishly filtered through the drain. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember he wasn't there anymore.
Jack noticed his unsteady breathing and reached up, coaxing him to lean his head back. At Simon's inquisitive noise he shushed him, voice melding with the surrounding noise of water tapping against acrylic.
"Let me wash your hair," he murmured, nails scratching against his scalp definitively. Simon let out a small noise of contentment, urging Jack to commit to his task wholeheartedly. He asked Simon to tell him where the soap was, following the convict's directions and pouring a small amount into his outstretched palm. Jack lathered the shampoo between his palms before sinking his nails into Simon's scalp, scratching in just the right way to leave him pliable.
Jack carefully worked out the knotted and tangled strands by touch, coaxing the bubbles through Simon's bloodied curls. Once he was able to scratch his nails against Simon's scalp without any pulling, he nudged his jaw with a small smile.
"Lean your head back or the soap will get in your eyes. If you go blind we'll both be done for." Jack joked drily, that gentle smirk still tugging at the corners of his lips. Simon obliged, throat bobbing visibly as he swallowed his apprehension and succumbed to trust once again.
Jack's hands worked the soap out of Simon's hair methodically, touch firm and grounding in a way Simon didn't know he needed. Nails scratched against his scalp and he found himself keening at the sensation, the slight tinge of pain as his nerves lit up from the contact.
"Hm. I think it's all out, but if it's not you can handle it, you're a big boy." Jack teased, grinning as he swiped his wet hair away from his face. He began to wash his own hair, much less careful and methodical when it came to himself.
Simon found himself staring yet again, but decided he could let himself have this, just once. His gaze flitted over the column of Jack's neck as his arms reached up and back, long fingers working the grease and oils from his hair. His eyes were closed, not that it made much difference, but it did exaggerate the length of his dark eyelashes against pale skin. Simon swallowed heavily, rinsing the remaining suds from his hair.
They worked around each other, finding a way to coexist in the tiny space without encroaching on one another in a way that would spell discomfort. Simon had never known proximity to be so pleasant.
Jack kept humming unconsciously, slipping past Simon with a tap on his shoulder to get under the water. He rinsed the suds off his skin, skidding his fingertips over the cuts and scrapes lining his forearms. Simon couldn't stop himself from reaching out, gently smoothing the pads of his fingers against the marred skin.
Jack shifted his blind gaze to fall upon Simon, giving him a small smile. "Hazards of the job," he murmured, guiding Simon's hand to the side of his neck where a large scar lay. "Shrapnel almost took me out once. My welder spit up a blade, got me right in the neck."
Simon stared at the jagged mark, fingers brushing over it gently. He licked his lips, rivulets of water spilling over his skin. "I didn't ever think about a mechanic's job being dangerous," he whispered, thumb shifting to caress Jack's jaw.
"Yeah," Jack murmured, leaning a bit closer, lips parting on an exhale. "S'pose it can be a bit. But I loved it." The past tense stung. Simon didn't know what to say, taking a shaky breath in, lips forming an apology.
Jack interrupted his efforts, leaning in with his eyes closed as his lips captured Simon's. Simon let out a shocked groan, pressing into the kiss. Jack's deft fingers came up to claw the base of his skull, keeping him close with a stable pressure but not allowing the kiss to escalate.
When they parted, Jack gave Simon a small grin, smirking. "Figured how to shut you up then, haven't I?"
Simon stared at him dumbly, lips still parted as he let out a small, exasperated laugh. He cupped Jack's jaw and kissed him back, the press of their lips not enough as he felt Jack lick at his mouth, a small whine escaping him. Jack let himself be pressed against the wall of the shower, head tilted as they both chased the sensation spelled from their mutual desires.
Simon followed the kiss insistently, but Jack pulled back, voice shaky as he tried to catch his breath. "Let's stop wasting our water. Do you want help with anything?"
Want, not need. Simon wanted to kiss him again.
"My back is hard to reach," he murmured, brushing his fingers along the side of Jack's jaw. He was real— this was real. He made it out of the sub. He wasn't in the sea of blood, and nobody could send him back. He was as free as he'd ever been in his entire life.
"Okay," Jack responded simply, "let me." He washed away the remains of all that had been done to Simon in a way that didn't make it feel like a burden. His touch was gentle yet firm, skimming the line in such a perfect way, just as he did with everything he touched.
Simon inhaled sharply when Jack washed over the bruised portions of his back, causing the mechanic to pull back, brows furrowed. "Are you hurt?"
Simon brushed his wet hair out of his face, letting out a shaky sigh. "No, uh— not really. I just got tossed around a lot in the sub and my back is...bruised. I think."
Jack scoffed quietly, touch impossibly gentler as he smoothed the suds over the bruised flesh. "You could've told me, ya'know?" He murmured, biting his cheek. Simon was still in front of him, the rise and fall of his chest the only motion. Simon felt a brush of lips against his shoulderblades, hardly there yet serving to brand him as he felt warmth return to his cheeks.
"I figured it was the least of our worries. With the radiation poisoning and all that." Simon joked quietly, disguising the way Jack's touch made his heart ache.
Jack didn't respond beyond a small bemused huff, bringing Simon back with him into the water. They stood there in silence, Jack draping his arms over Simon's shoulders and letting his forehead fall to rest against the back of his neck.
Simon reached a hand up to brush against Jack's knuckles, brows furrowing with a small smile. "Now who's wasting water?" He teased softly, feeling Jack hug his arms around his neck tighter.
"Jack?" Simon's voice pitched slightly, trying to look back at the mechanic as he felt him shaking. Jack buried his face in Simon's neck, letting out a choked breath. Simon hadn't registered it at first against the water spilling down over his skin, but the warmth of Jack's tears was unmistakable. Jack shook his head, letting out a strangled noise.
"Fuck, it's nothin'." He croaked, pulling away quickly and pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes with a forced laugh that sounded more like choking. "You're right. We're done with the shower, yeah?" He fumbled for the faucet without waiting for an answer, cutting the stream of water off. He snagged a towel from where Simon had left them, getting out quickly and drying off.
Simon was left with concern burning at his throat, unable to find the words to ask. He followed suit, drying himself off to the best of his ability and tugging back on his clothes. "Jack—"
"Don't." Jack immediately interrupted, running a hand through his wet hair, brushing it away from his face. "I don't need pity, okay?" He spat, brows furrowed as he turned away with a scoff.
Simon felt like he had whiplash as he watched Jack make his way out of the bathroom as quickly as he could. Simon finished getting dressed and followed, lips parted on a sharp breath.
Jack stopped in the middle of the room with a scoff, running a hand roughly through his hair. "I knew what I was doing when I welded you in that sub." He spat, turning to face Simon with clenched fists, shoulders trembling.
Simon stared at him, brows furrowed with a concerned confusion. "Jack, why're you—"
"I thought—" He interrupted, letting out a strangled breath, as he quickly shook his head. "You were 'sposed to be a killer." He croaked accusingly, tears burning at his unseeing eyes. "Why couldn't you just be the person they told me you were? Not...not this."
Simon stared, chest tight with a bubbling mixture of anger and... something else. "Not what?" He started, taking a step closer, shoulders tensed. "Human?"
Jack's jaw clenched, overcome by a wave of emotions that threatened to drag him under. The easiest to process was anger. He bit back everything else, leaning into the frustration. "Yeah, maybe I thought you a monster. Maybe after everything I'd heard I jumped at the opportunity to seal you away." He snarled, clenched fists trembling at his sides. It wasn't true anymore though, was it?
"You kissed me." Simon pointed out, exasperated. "If you think I'm a monster—"
"—Thought. Said I thought you a monster." Jack cut in, voice broken as he let out a shaken scoff, brows pinched.
I don't think that anymore. I can't.
Simon's posture slumped, expression conflicted. He sighed, running his hand through his damp hair. "...You thought." Simon repeated, brows furrowed. He hesitated, closing the distance between them and reaching out. "I'm going to touch you, okay? Don't freak out on me."
Jack scoffed, posture rigid. "Don't fucking say it like that." He wiped angrily at his eyes, pressing hard enough to hurt. Simon caught him around one wrist and he didn't flinch.
Jack let out a strangled breath, lowering his hands from his face. The silence was deafening until Jack broke it. "...Tell me about Eden." He murmured, tracing his fingers over the scarred flesh of Simon's arm, frowning. "I want to—understand."
Simon stilled, searching Jack's face. "...I dont—" He licked his lips, sighing as he adjusted his grip on Jack's wrist, tugging gently. "Come here."
Simon led Jack to the edge of one of their beds, sitting down and patting the stiff mattress. Jack obliged, feeling along the edge of the bed before sitting down, pulling his legs up with him, crossed. He continued to trail his fingers over Simon's arm almost absently, and the other man didn't stop him.
"I don't remember much of my childhood," Simon started quietly, his hand toying with the cuff of Jack's sleeve. "I remember my mom, she was smart, kind; always had an answer when I asked a question—no matter how stupid it was. She, uh—" He let out a shaky breath, a weak smile curling at his lips. "She told me I'd like it in Eden, that it would be better for me to be around others." He took in a jagged breath causing Jack to shift his touch to Simon's face.
"Was it?" Jack asked quietly, brows furrowed. "Better for you," he clarified, swiping the pad of his thumb over Simon's cheek as he cupped his jaw.
Simon hesitated, lips tugging downwards in a frown. "My brothers and the Father...they made me a part of something, gave me a family. I...felt that I owed them." He let out a weak huff of laughter, sounding exhausted. "I trusted them. Filament Station— It was supposed to be a routine material exchange...I didn't know—"
"I believe you." Jack murmured, shaking his head slightly in exasperation. "Simon, how—" he let out a shaky breath, caressing the Convict's jaw to reassure himself. "...Filament Station was almost twenty years ago," Jack spoke slowly, accent tinging the weight of his words. Simon understood what Jack was trying to ask.
"Yeah, I was um. Sixteen? I think." Simon mumbled, giving a weak shrug. He felt ashamed at how early on he had been deserving of a monstrous title. Jack's expression twisted and Simon mistook his shock for disgust, trying to pull away. Jack wrapped his hand around the base of Simon's skull, keeping him from distancing himself.
"Simon, I need you to listen to me," Jack spoke, voice firm even as it shook. Simon felt sick. He knew he was a monster, Jack had told him that he knew it, too. He didn't want to hear it again. He didn't look away, knowing he owed Jack at least that, even if the mechanic couldn't appreciate his even gaze.
"You were a fuckin' kid." Jack stressed, brows pinched together with sorrowful concern. Simon didn't understand. "Eden sent a child to die for their war. That wasn't on you, christ—” Jack let out a shaken scoff, his other hand raising to cup Simon's face in his palms.
"You were a scapegoat, Simon. You didn't— none of that was on you- fuck, I've been sitting here blaming you without even asking for your side of it all." Jack inhaled unsteadily, lips pressed in a thin line.
Simon felt tears burning at his eyes. It was his fault, though. That's what everyone said. Simon the Butcher, the killer who destroyed the beacon of hope that was Filament Station. Why did he feel relieved? He killed all those people. He didn't deserve to cry—
"Oh, Simon..." Jack whispered, hearing the hitch in the other's breathing. Simon choked on a sob, finally breaking. After days spent under the pressure of the blood sea holding everything in, he finally let himself cry openly and be seen.
Jack wiped under Simon's eyes, feeling the hot saline tears against his skin. He gave Simon a tiny smile, whispering to him soothingly. "It's okay, lad. You're okay— come here..."
Simon let Jack pull him closer, feeling the mechanic's arms wrap around him as thin fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching gently in a grounding pressure. He cried into Jack's shoulder, hugging him back to the best of his capabilities with one arm.
"Hey, pretty boy... Can you talk to me? Tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours," Jack murmured in his ear, smoothing out his curls with gentle ministrations.
Simon shook his head weakly against Jack's neck, choking down a gasped breath. "Can you say it again..?" He whispered, voice shaking from his continued sobs.
Jack gave a small hum in reply, chest tight with an intense desire to never let Simon go; to never let anyone hurt him ever again. "Say what, Simon?"
"That it wasn't my fault." His voice broke, letting out a shuddering breath. Jack's anger at Eden grew, alongside the shame burning within himself at how easily he had found it to blame Simon for what happened at Filament Station.
"It wasn't your fault." Jack murmured, repeating himself softly as the lilt of his accent soothed Simon's sobs. Jack continued to run his hand through Simon's hair, nails scratching against his scalp, content to stay in that position until Simon was ready.
Simon was the first to pull away, lashes clinging with unshed tears as he looked at Jack with undying adoration. Jack parted his lips to speak, cut off by Simon's lips connecting with his, kissing him slowly. Jack hummed appreciatively into the kiss, smiling against the pressure. They had to break away when Jack couldn't stop smiling, letting out a small laugh.
"I didn't expect you to be so insistent." Jack teased, unable to stop grinning. Simon smiled softly, undeniably smitten by the sight.
"I had to take the chance while I had it," Simon admitted quietly, warmth flooding his cheeks.
Jack huffed an amused laugh, reaching out and waiting for Simon's hand to find his, lacing together their fingers. "There'll be plenty of chances to take in the future." Jack smiled, lifting his other hand to Simon's face, pressing against his bottom lip before leaning in and kissing him once more.
Simon felt a pleasant warmth nestled in his chest, a sensation he didn't recognise but was coming to crave. Being with Jack made him feel human again for the first time since he was a kid. He wouldn't let that go, not for anything.