Chapter Text
Rook can’t tell what’s going on. Lights are flashing, alarms are screeching, there’s too many people shooting at him, there’s too much noise. Explosions are wracking the place, making every surface vibrate. He doesn’t fucking know what’s going on. There’s too much going on. The temperature is wrong, his clothes feel like little bugs crawling all over him. There’s something in his hair and it won’t stop itching. He can feel his heart thumping in his brain with every intake of breath. And it’s too fucking much. He’s running. He doesn’t know where to, just anywhere from everything. Things are blaring in his ears, sending tremors throughout his body, his eyes feel like they’re burning with intensity of the light and it’s all following him, and he can’t escape it.
He falls down, probably tripped on his own feet. He scrambles up to a sitting position, pulls his knees to his chest, wraps his hands around his head and ears, and he doesn’t even realize he’s rocking back and forth. He doesn’t realize he’s crying either and when he does it feels like acid on his skin. He can’t do anything.
He can’t do anything except curl up in a ball and be weak.
And then there’s hands on him, big hands that feel like fire, and he’s trying to get away but then they’re wrapping around him and holding him in place, and he can’t breathe. He struggles in their grasp, needing to get away.
He can feel hot globs of acid on his face burning him, and something fucking loud is in his head and his throat feels fucking raw and he realizes he’s screaming.
He stops trying to get away as the touch grows firmer, more there, more grounding. Whoever has him starts to rock him back and forth gently, and shush him like a scared puppy whenever a sob breaks out of his mouth. His hands start moving of their own accord and he manages to register and remember stop don’t that it’s bad and it’s wrong and what do you mean too much is happening if I can handle this so can you so STOP THAT BEHAVIOR IT MAKES YOU LOOK RETARDED!
And he goes still. He doesn’t know what to do except hurt, because he deserves it.
Then there are hands petting through his hair. “Shhh, you’re ok pup, you’re good.”
He realizes it’s Jacob’s voice and he tenses.
“You’re fine kid, I gotcha, you’re safe.” But he’s not safe and he knows it and isn’t just fucking hilarious that safest you’ve felt in your entire life is in the grasp of a man who treats people like dogs?
“I’m sorry.” Rook croaks out through sobs.
“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for, Rook.” Jacob says. It’s the first time Jacob’s used his name and it makes him hurt more.
Then Jacob starts talking, so Rook doesn’t have to try to. “Back before the army, before we got separated, I remember helping John through moments like these. Our parents called him stupid, retarded, attention seeking, and plenty of other godawful things. He wasn’t and isn’t any of those things though. Me and Joe didn’t know what went on in that head of his, but he’s our brother, so we protected him when he couldn’t protect himself.
“When we found each other again, the army had changed me. And I was awful to John that first time in forever that I’d found him packed away in some storage closet having a meltdown. I remember how his eyes lit up ever so slightly when I opened the door, and then how I made everything worse. Called him weak. He’s not, though. Just has a wildly different brain from me.
“After that, I made a promise to do better. Also recognized that it takes a lot of strength in the first place to live with a disability.”
Rook’s breathing has calmed, so as the adrenaline fades, so does his fight to not collapse into Jacob’s solid warmth. The eldest seed chuckles lightly, “You’re strong, Rook. Get some rest.” And the deputy can’t help but fall into a dreamless sleep in Jacob’s scarred arms.