Jesse isn’t a stranger to nightmares, but it’s been a while. Last bout he’d had of them was after a certain incident in the woods of Deerington well over a year ago, before Ashe had even come to town. That had thankfully been a short-lived problem.
These reoccurring ones that have started up again since Rapture are a different sort altogether. He’d had them before almost a decade ago, night after night to the point where he’d driven himself half-mad from lack of sleep and grief. The fall of Overwatch. The deaths of his friends. The death of one man in particular.
What’s different now is that he’s seen how Gabriel Reyes’s life actually ended. It had been clear as day. He’d heard his own name on his mentor’s lips as the man had breathed his last.
Sleep hasn’t come easily since, not even with Ashe at his side. Falling asleep in her arms is more than he could ever ask for, but it doesn’t stop him from waking in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Every time, he either succeeds in slipping away without waking her or making up a convincing lie. And every time, he struggles to keep his thoughts from reaching her through their link.
If she knows about her nightmares, she’ll ask about Reyes. That’ll lead to thoughts of Reaper, and that… that will lead to a scenario he’ll do just about anything to prevent.
So when he wakes up yet again in a blind panic, the first thing he does after catching his breath is to check if Ashe is awake beside him.
Ashe was not the heaviest sleeper. Decades of gang related trauma and violence had left her with the need to watch her back and that often transferred into her sleeping patterns. Deerington hadn't helped matters, but Jesse was a comforting presence besides her and he'd replaced her need to turn to a bottle every night.
Still, with his increase in tossing and turning, she'd been aware the nights had been a bit harder on him. For the most part she'd let him be, and if he stirred her, she'd been too sleepy to press and would simply try to soothe him by reaching out a hand to make him aware of her presence.
The month had been tough and for whatever reason things in Deerington had been harder on him recently. She felt it strongly through their connection, and she felt too that there were things he was holding back. They seemed to have an agreement on when to push and when to back off, but she was starting to want to press for answers.
She doesn't know what number panic attack he's on, but this time it does bring her out of her slumber as she feels the shift on the bed. The terror and panic is enough to filter through her consciousness and she can't ignore it, she wouldn't have been able to roll over and fall back to sleep if she wanted to. Sitting up, she leans into him and presses a string of tired kisses against his shoulder, while her hand strokes down his back in a soothing fashion.
Jesse is torn. He wishes she wasn’t awake, just so he won’t have to lie to her again. But having her there, talking to him with that reassuring touch… it makes all the difference in the world. He relaxes, just a little, but the nightmare still holds him in his grasp even now.
Jesse…
He shuts his eyes tight and rubs his hands over his face, straining for his self-control. Keep it together, that’s all he has to do. He’s done it before. He can do it again.
“I know.” He nods, voice unsteady as he tries to breathe in time with the movement of her hand on his back. Slow. Soothing.
pain and loss and guilt, so much guilt
Guilt for lying to her. For letting Reyes die. For…
He won’t have her death on his conscience too. He won’t.
She can feel it, that he hasn't gotten much sleep tonight. At this point, she is awake enough that falling back to sleep wasn't really an option.
"Alright," she says, giving his shoulder one last kiss before she pushes off the blanket and moves to stand up. Fresh air could sometimes be the best thing to chase the demons away. Here in Clark Acres, the night isn't as relaxing as it may have been back in Arizona, but she's prepared to go out anyway.
Ashe doesn't know whether he'll want the company of not but she's not taking no for an answer. They are in this together and like the months it's been harder on her, she's going to be be there by his side through this one. Grabbing her pants off the back of the chair she threw them on, she pulls them on and reaches for a light jacket. It had been surprisingly warm for a March in Maine, but the desert native wasn't complaining.
Jesse knows better than to insist she stay home. Really, he’d rather not be alone even as he knows they’d be safer if he was. How can he push her away though? Her first instinct had been to comfort him, and even now she knows what to say and do without even asking. That intimacy, that caring… that love. He isn’t strong enough to push it away now. Or rather, it’s stronger than his reservations.
“A ride.”
Taking a car or a motorcycle out had always been a way for him to clear his mind. Walks were for thinking and getting in deep into your own head. Driving or riding around has the opposite effect. It’s the closest thing to meditation he thinks he can do.
He gets out of bed and grabs a jacket, looking back at her with a tentative smile.
“Dealer’s choice if you end up in the driver's seat."
For her part, Ashe was grateful that he didn't try to stop her. It spared an argument but more than that, it meant he really wanted her there. She hadn't spoken the words, but she'd been thinking about all the changes between them. Her birthday had been a reminder of how far they had come. If she paid him back, it would be in playful jest not vengeance.
"Riding sounds really nice. Especially now that it's gotten warmer." She makes her way outside with him. The weather is pleasant, making it a nice night for a bike ride. She'd grabbed her keys on the way outside, so she'd had her bike in mind. He doesn't know that she's got plans to get him his own. For now they just have hers.
She holds out the keys. "I guess the question is do I want your arms wrapped around me, or do I wanna wrap mine around you."
“Askin’ the tough questions when I just woke up. Now that ain’t far.”
This is soothing though, the flirtation and the banter. It’s almost enough that he can push the storm raging inside of him to the back of his mind. Almost. It feels like his resolve is cracking, but he can only wonder how much of the guilt nausea sadness is getting through to her. That she hasn’t said anything about it bodes well to start.
“You trust me to drive it again? Because I wouldn’t mind your arms around me.” And the act of driving will help distract him.
She laughs as she digs her leather gloves out of her pockets and pulls them on. "Either way you got my body against you." She gave a wink. However, she tosses him the keys. Despite the shit she still gave him regularly she was actually quite comfortable sharing her things with him at this point. Of course, she couldn't let him live it down, but they keys are his for the taking, at least for the moment.
Her focus was more directed towards all the feelings that seemed to weave through her from him. Ashe still hadn't gotten used to connection they seemed to share. It had it's pros and cons, and had been good for helping them iron out some things, but it could be overwhelming to feel her own emotions as well as his. Sometimes it was hard to tell what she was feeling and what he was feeling. The nausea sometimes felt like it was her own, but it would ease up too quickly to be. So she was acutely aware that things were off, but she was still hopeful a simple ride on her bike would be enough to settle whatever was bothering him.
For the moment she doesn't press, instead climbing into her bike and scooting back to allow him space to get on in front of her. Maybe if they found a relaxing place, they could watch the sunrise and talk about it.
Jesse catches the keys and smiles down at them, remembering with a bittersweet humor the last time he’d had them in hand like this. Says a lot about how she feels that she’d let him hold them again, much less drive.
“Couldn’t think of any better way to ride.” He flashes her a smile and a quick wink before settling on the bike, the warmth of her at his back a comfort. Already he’s feeling more settled, more like himself. If he can run the last vestiges of his nightmares out of his head with the roar the engine, all the better.
“Hold on tight darlin’. I’m not about to go slow.” He turns the key, and the bike roars to life beneath them.
"You know I ain't a take it slow kinda girl." She grinned as he took a seat in front of her and she was quick to wrap her arms around him.
Nostalgia rose in her chest as they took off. Ashe couldn't recall all of their heists in detail, as there had been so many, but she could remember the the thrill of a heist and those wild, adrenaline filled moments after they'd gotten their score. If he was drivin', he'd rev the engine like that and they would go flying away to safety, sometimes with cops right on their tail. In her mind there had never been freedom quite like that. She hadn't ever told him but she'd loved him in those moments with her arms around him, the wind in her hair, and the world a banquet of potential.
The love is back now, not quite as innocent, but steady and strong. She's not just along for the ride with him on the bike, but also the ride of his feelings, which seem to be balancing out a little. Letting out a sigh, she presses her cheek to his back and clings tightly around his middle, enjoying him and enjoying whatever ride he takes her on.
Jesse stays still for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of her at his back and the open road in front of them. It’s not the desert, and it’s not one of those adrenaline-fueled nights. But it’s something just as good, if newer and untested. It’s a future that feels like it has legs to stand on, and isn’t just a mad dash into a future on fire.
With that in mind, they go racing out of the driveway and into the night. He sticks to Clarke Acres and the outskirts of town, not wanting to get stuck in a sleepy suburban street. And it is calming. Ashe’s arms around him are grounding, keeping him from getting so lost in his thoughts that he gets reckless.
What would she have made of him, after the explosion? He’d thrown himself into fight after fight and had drunk himself into stupors that he’s surprised didn’t kill him. It’d been bad. Pathetic even. All because he couldn’t face what he’d done.
But none of it could compare to what happened to Reyes and the others. You killed them, Jesse
He speeds the motorcycle up.
Reyes half-crushed under debris as an “Overwatch” operative stared down at him, impassive. He was meant to die here
For a time, riding behind him is calming and she finds her mind just drifting. Perhaps he'd been able to pick up on some of her own peace as she falls into the motion of the bike, the wind in her hair, and the enjoyment of holding on to her boyfriend. Still an odd word to use, but she was growing more comfortable with it and with their relationship.
The peace of it is unsettled as she feels the questions and the anxiety and his own self loathing over something. It's fragmented in her own head, like listening to a recording that kept skipping. If she'd been a part of his life during that time, she wouldn't have allowed him to get so hard on himself, or she would have at least hauled his butt cowboy style out to the water trough and dunked him right in, before telling him to pull it together. Whether it would have helped was another thing, but then again when he'd returned to question her it hadn't gone well. It was a fight of theirs she didn't like to think about because she'd become hard on herself for putting up such a wall against him.
It was hard to not get stuck in the past when his thoughts seemed to constantly be circling around the past. She's torn between wanting to push and giving him his space. But when the name Reyes flashing before her eyes, a cold sinking feeling hits her stomach and she tightens her grip on him.
The roar of the motorcycle was loud enough that it would be hard to speak over it, but she feels bombarded by his feelings and whatever he's keeping from her, is starting to stress her out. She wants to know what's going on, because she can guess he can't move on otherwise. So reaching out with her mind, as well as leaning as close to his ear as she can to say it out loud, she calls out for him to stop the bike.
It’s a strange sensation. Jesse both hears and feels her tell him to stop, and it jerks him out of his reverie. Probably for the best. His thoughts had still managed to take a dark turn. He’d been so sure he’d left this all behind him, or at least the worst of it, but… that vision. It was like being stabbed again in the same place you were wounded once before. Old and new at once.
“You alright?”
He waits until they’re pulled over to ask, the night around them feeling almost strangely muted compared to the roar of the bike. Thankfully, it’s really just a normal amount of quiet, otherwise Jesse would have kicked the engine back on and hightailed it out of there.
"Yeah. I'm fine." She throws her leg over the bike and stands up crossing her arms and looking at him. Nights in Deerington weren't ever the safest, but she hadn't come unarmed and her focus was on him rather than what could be lurking in the shadows. Though she liked to think that she had a high tolerance for the crazy in this town, Jesse had been weird most of the month and it's got her set on edge.
"How 'bout you? How you doin'?" She gave him a pointed look, that suggested she was over the pretense. His anxiety and grief and guilt were so loud it was starting to make her feel jumpy. For better or worse they needed to solve this. "And I'd like the truth, please." Mixed into her agitation and need to know, was concern and despite her putting her foot down, that concern was clear in her eyes. She just hoped that he would be honest with her.
That look says a lot, even without their bond giving him context. She’s worried. She’d heard something. Question is what.
which truth
He stays seated on the bike, but leans back so his hands are off the handlebars. He looks in turns defiant and defeated, stubborn and tired. She can probably feel the push and pull as he wrestles with what to say. And what not to say.
protect her
“You know I haven’t been great. Not since Rapture.” He really does hate the name of that city. Makes no damn sense. “I… saw an old memory.”
Reaper
“And it shook a few things loose in my head. That’s what the nightmares have been about, but they’ll go away.”
The push and pull he's going through invokes her own back and forth. Ashe doesn't want to press him into talking about things that he doesn't want to talk about, but at the same time, they are in this together and she wants to know that he trusts her enought to be honest. Whatever is happening in his head, it's eating him up.
She takes a deep breath, unsure herself if she wants the truth of whatever it is he's hiding from her.
"I know. And I've been tryin' to give you your space about this, but you gotta trust me enough to let me in."
When he speaks of the memory and the name Reaper creeps up like a whisper in her own head, she swallows.
"I get nightmares, had enough of them myself here. But I can feel you're keepin' somethin' from me. And what's this about Reaper?"
If it were anything else—anything else—Jesse would do just that. Trust her. Let her in. They’ve already done that in so many ways about so many things. The only reason he won’t now is for her own sake. Hearing her say Reaper’s name alone sends a freezing cold spike of dread straight into his chest.
“No,” he says, not even aware he’s speaking the word out loud until it’s out of his mouth. But there it is, out in the open, and he shakes his head as he continues to speak. “Ashe, listen. This is one thing I can’t—”
don’t think about it don’t think about it
He’s giving himself a headache, and not just from sheer stubbornness. The bond works in mysterious ways, but it surely wasn’t meant to be fought with like this. The more he does, the harder it seems to be to keep his grip on it. It’ll happen any second now. He’s losing control. He realizes he’d stopped talking, teeth grit, eyes shut as he focuses. But trying to not think of something is a classically useless endeavor.
Reyes dying
GabeAnaJackOverwatchguiltReaperangerbeneath
the mask
he still looks like him
He can’t hold it anymore, and the bond opens up wide like a floodgate, the truth he’d been trying to suppress even louder and more forceful for it.
The more he tries to force it all away the more her own head starts to ache. It's as if the frequency between them is off kilter and it's difficult to separate all the memories and feelings. She feels flooded and she feels all together too hot for the night. Her own feelings are caught up in the mix of it all as she tries to navigate the mental line where he ends and she begins.
There's guilt. That's for certain. Which is a relief since he's hiding something from her. There is fear too and despair. She can feel that he wants to protect her, and she would argue that she isn't a child or get mad at him but there isn't a chance too with the flood of memories that seems to spill over the edge. She feels like she'll drown in the middle of it all, but she holds herself steady trying to sort through it all.
As the dust seems to settle, she can see it more clearly. There is a vacant look on her face as if she's watching a film unfold. She's a smart woman and it doesn't take her too long to start to put together the pieces. There is a growing chaos of emotions that fills her mind as she repeats the same thing silently to herself. Reaper is Reyes, Reyes is Reaper. Pieces start to fit together. Reaper's obsession with Jesse. The man she had briefly spoken to as a teenager, was the same person who had taken Jesse from her.
It's a lot to process, and Ashe is breathing heavily as she finally looks to Jesse. Her heart wrenches painfully as old wounds feel like they are being ripped open again. She holds herself high and strong, but he'd know she didn't feel it. Reyes had been here the whole time, and Jesse had known it. Had he been protecting him? Her? Whatever his reasons, she wasn't okay with it, and her protective wall of anger is growing and when she finally speaks she's too calm for it to be a good thing.
"This whole time...you've been keepin' this from me? Y'know...I wondered why he was so obsessed with you...but I never put it together."
It’s done. It’s out there. Jesse almost feels relieved, but it’s a very secondary emotion behind his mounting anxiety and dread. He’d known this would hurt her if she ever found out. It had been a price worth paying for her safety though. He’d rather have her angry at him than dead. He takes a steadying breath and gets off of the motorcycle.
“Yeah. I have.”
No denial. No reason for it now.
“I didn’t know it was still him at first. Reaper… he had tells. I noticed them before even getting here, but I thought it was just his body. Just a shell left over from what Moira did. There was no way it could be Gabe under there. Then he ended up here…” And slowly, Jesse had realized Reaper was more than that. He’s not the same, not anymore, but what he is now is a lot more complicated than Jesse ever wanted to consider.
“He’s not the same man, but he’s not what I thought he was either. He’s somethin’ between.”
His gaze sharpens then, lit up with new intent. She can hold this against him, can freeze him out, can do whatever she sees fit if she only—
For years Reyes had been the faceless and nameless enemy of all her hatred and loathing. He'd robbed her of the years that she could have had with Jesse, building an empire the way they both wanted it built. They'd been practically children, but they would have figured out their feelings sooner or later and gotten together long ago. He'd stolen that from her. She'd been alone a majority of her life, but she'd started to open up and let people in. First Jesse; then the other two they'd started the gang with; then members they added. For a few short years, she'd been content and happy.
Something in her had been stolen the day he had. Her own memories came rushing back to her.
A meeting where she'd yelled mercilessly at the other members of Deadlock when they'd told her they hadn't been able to find him. She'd made threats and demands and screamed at them to go back again to find clues that she knew herself weren't there. It only stopped when one of the other co-founders placed a hand on her shoulder that the emotion had overwhelmed her and she'd stormed from the room so they wouldn't see her apart. She lost it instead behind the safety of her bedroom door sobbing on her bed until she'd passed out from exhaustion. Nights of drinking herself to sleep, while wearing his old sweatshirts followed.
Once she did pick herself back up, it was meetings with dangerous gang leaders to try and figure out his location. Digging herself in deeper, while simultaneously building on her parent's business model to create new partnerships and alliances. From time to time she'd check in for updates on Jesse's location. When a desperate attempt to find him had gone poorly and her life and the lives of others had been at risk, she'd had to choose.
The Southwest had been ready to name her the leader and offer her the crown and throne, wealth, power, and notoriety were at her fingertips. It was a life that might not have had him, but it was filled with luxury and all the things that had started to feel more reliable than people and relationships. She loved her team and her found family, but she kept them at a distance. She could at least cover the loneliness with glitter and gold. Just as Mr. and Mrs. Ashe had taught her.
There is a particularly poignant memory. She was standing in front of a mirror staring at her reflection. Around her several boxes of his things were packed up. A photo of them playing cards sat on the sink, in worn, but undamaged condition. For awhile she just looked at herself, and she'd been crying. Her hair was tied back in a braid that was thrown over her shoulder. Reaching for a pair of scissors she holds her braid in one hand. She swallowed and closed her eyes considering. When she opened them her reflection is one of determination. The braid fell to the sink moments later and she worked with the scissors to get her hair into something that satisfied her. Then she reached for her blood red lipstick and applied. Once finished, there was a smirk of satisfaction. Ashe had shed the past and accepted her new life.
It wasn't just her hair she had cut away. She'd cut away many of the parts of herself that he had loved, because they reminded her of happier times, and she couldn't survive in the world she now owned if she had continued to let them run the show. But when he'd returned, she hadn't been the girl that had been left behind, she was a woman he hadn't known. One she wasn't sure she had fully recognized.
Not until Deerington. And she'd let her guard down. She'd often felt foolish where Jesse was concerned, but she felt more the fool now for allowing him in, only to be lied to. Reyes, the man who had been a thorn in their story since the day he'd taken Jesse, was part of the story again. And it wasn't just Reyes anymore, now it was Reaper. No wonder he hadn't liked her. No wonder he'd been frustrated when Jesse had returned to her. The greatest enemy to her happiness had been with them like a shadow all along, messing with Jesse all over again. He was the cause of Jesse's nightmares, but he'd also been the cause of hers.
Her tone remains cold, there is madness in her eyes, and her chin is turned upwards in a familiar way. The way she looks before she calls someone out for going against her. The way she looks before she comes for blood, and it's not Jesse's she wants.
Jesse doesn’t experience the memory in a true cinematic fashion. It’s not as clear as the memories he’d gotten from Reaper, as per the rules of the threads. Seeing the mercenary’s memories had been like watching the experiences through Reaper’s eyes. Now, his understanding of Ashe’s memories is portrayed more through emotion than imagery. The latter is there, though less clear.
He’d known about Ashe’s rise to power. Deadlock was still very much on Blackwatch’s radar even after the raid, with most of its leadership intact. He’d been proud at first. She was doing it. Everything they’d ever set out to take for themselves, she’d gotten. Then as his priorities had started to change, the pride… didn’t go away, per say. But it was tempered by regret. They’d just been two kids looking for freedom from their circumstances. They shouldn’t have had to turn into weapons to do that. Was the world a better place with Deadlock in it? He’d thought about that more than once. He’d wondered if she ever did too.
None of it is a surprise then, although her pain cuts him deep. The loneliness she’d endured, that he’d never known until Deerington.
But that’s something to think about later, because he knows that look in her eye. This is his worst fear coming to life right in front of him. Can she feel his fear? The slow but inevitable rise of sickening panic?
“Or he’ll kill you, Ashe.” His voice rises in volume, pleading. Jesse on the verge of begging is not something many have heard. “He won’t even think twice if you come at him. He was part of this experimental program when he was starting out in the military, him and Jack Morrison—government turned them into super soldiers. Shit’s still classified to this day, and it means it doesn’t matter what you do to get the drop on him. You’re not beatin’ him in a fight.”
He’s more afraid now than he’d been taking that bullet for Ashe. Him dying for her is one thing. Her throwing her life away is something else, something he can’t bear. He’ll do whatever it takes to stop this.
Ashe would have been able to tell that he was afraid even if she didn't have the connection to his soul. It was written on his face just how afraid he was for her. For a moment it seems to be at war with her own fury. From all their time together in Deerington she has grown in her understanding of relationships, love, and even compassion. It's been the first time in years that she's held back in areas she may have previously charged in to. Having Jesse back, and relying on his intelligence for things has tempered some of her harshness. If this hadn't been so deeply personal, it would have been enough to make her step back and consider. Especially since she wasn't as impulsive as she had been in her youth.
She stands in front of him, her features unwavering as he tells her about Reyes and his talents, how she's surely to end up dead if she goes up against him. The truth of that isn't lost on her, but death has never been good at leading her away from danger, especially when only her own life at stake. Right now the thought of standing in front of the man she's wanted to tear apart since her youth is like a drug, and whatever the outcome she is craving revenge. The panic he feels gives her pause, but it's not strong enough to combat the desire to fight his old commander.
"Well if that happens the kitties will kill him for me and when we're both back, I'll get my revenge then. While his memory is gone."
She walks around him to the bike, reaching for where she kept Viper tucked and pulls the weapon out to start checking for bullets. "You can't stop me. I have been waitin' for this conversation for far too long." A small part of her is worried that is she does this Jesse wouldn't forgive her. It's at combat with the voice that reminds her that he lied to her, withheld information. Once again, he'd made a choice without her input, and she isn't even sure how to forgive him. It's a perfect storm inside of her and she's crazy enough in that moment that she doesn't care who or what gets destroyed in its wake.
He turns, watching her check her weapon. Has she noticed yet that he took the keys with him when he got off the bike? Only a matter of time before she does. He can feel them in his pocket, a leaden weight that he ignores as he reaches out to put a hand on her arm.
“This isn’t worth it. He’s not even the same man in all the ways that mattered. The Reyes who took me is already dead, and I don’t want to lose you over the ghost that's left. That’s all he is anymore.”
A ghost still resembles the living though. Jesse knows this, has seen it for himself when looking at Reaper’s true face and seeing his memories. It’s not simple. None of this is simple.
“If you die tonight Ashe, over this, I…” his voice catches. “I don’t know what I’ll do. This is why I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d go runnin’ off just like this.”
Without their connection, Ashe would only have the weight of her own emotions. She wouldn't have anything that questioned the impulsivity of her present direction. It would make it easier to rush out of there and do her own thing directed only by her own desires. Jesse's fear and love and desperation muddle it all down and it's harder to think only about herself.
If she were honest she'd admit it was harder to think about just herself in general these days. If she went up against Reaper and died, then she'd be disappointing more than just Jesse. Her recklessness would impact Chloe, Ben, and Roxas; youth that were trying to rely on her. She didn't even know how B.O.B. would take it.
She closes her eyes as the battle of desire continues to wage war instead of her head. Jesse's desire. Her desire. Her throat feels tight. Jesse had gone and cracked the fragile trust that she'd been trying to rebuild with him. It might have been a smaller issue if the previous transgressions that she had been holding against him were buried deeper. As it stood, she's still working through those issues and though being in Deerington had given them distance, it hadn't erased the pain they'd caused her.
A small voice inside of her knows he's right. As a leader she knew to keep information from people that would put them at risk. The turmoil of it all is raging inside of her and she lets Viper rest on the seat, throwing her hands up in the air and letting out a holler of frustration. If there were ghosts in the fields tonight, they were wise enough to not show themselves.
"What you'll do!? Goddammit Jesse! It's all about what you'll do, isn't it!? Shit like this always comes out. Always. But what? You gotta...protect me? Because if you gave a shit about protectin' me, you'd start to takin' me into account! This ain't the first time you've withheld information from me, will it be the last?" She doubted it, some habits were hard to break. "But let's get one thing straight right here and right now." Her voice goes cold and she looks him dead in the eye.
"If I die, doin' what I want to do, that's my goddamn right because I am a grown ass woman and I don't need your damn protection. Hell, I've been without it for years. I can give you a checklist of a hundred times I've needed you, but you weren't there to protect me. And why is that? Because of him." She gestured to nowhere, swallowing as she tried to reign in her anger. "I lost your protection because of him. Don't patronize me with it now. Because if you really believed he was gone, you would have killed him yourself for all the crimes he's done. Now give me the damn keys." She held out her hand and it was shaking from the break in her own resolve over the matter.
He can feel her indecision, and he’s hopeful for just a few precious seconds. She’s made so many strides these past months. Let go of so much anger and forged so many new bonds. Surely that means she can see how this could only end in tragedy. Then she’s unleashing the full force of her displeasure on him, and any hope of her rethinking his whole thing is completely crushed beneath the force of it.
It’s all about what you’ll do, isn’t it?
She’s right. That’s the hard thing about all of it really, that she’s right about so much. He hadn’t been there for her. Reyes was to blame, and no—despite what he says, he really doesn’t think Reyes is totally gone. And yes, even now, Jesse is making this about him to an extent. But that doesn’t stop anger from rising up to tangle with his fear—anger at her recklessness and her lack of regard for her own safety. She’d die for this, and she will unless he does something to stop it.
He meets her gaze with his own, steady and sad and fiery with determination.
“The whole reason I didn’t tell you is because I took you into account. You’re sure as hell not gonna do it for yourself. You think you’d be past this, throwing your good sense to the wind for revenge!”
He stops, breathing hard, eyes shining bright where the moonlight hits them. A wolf’s eyes. The anger is bringing it out more now, making him hyper-aware of the night around them and the danger on the wind. Slowly, he shakes his head and takes a purposeful step back away from her. The few feet now between them might as well be a mile. A canyon in a familiar desert they’ve both walked in before.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The last month of March
These reoccurring ones that have started up again since Rapture are a different sort altogether. He’d had them before almost a decade ago, night after night to the point where he’d driven himself half-mad from lack of sleep and grief. The fall of Overwatch. The deaths of his friends. The death of one man in particular.
What’s different now is that he’s seen how Gabriel Reyes’s life actually ended. It had been clear as day. He’d heard his own name on his mentor’s lips as the man had breathed his last.
Sleep hasn’t come easily since, not even with Ashe at his side. Falling asleep in her arms is more than he could ever ask for, but it doesn’t stop him from waking in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Every time, he either succeeds in slipping away without waking her or making up a convincing lie. And every time, he struggles to keep his thoughts from reaching her through their link.
If she knows about her nightmares, she’ll ask about Reyes. That’ll lead to thoughts of Reaper, and that… that will lead to a scenario he’ll do just about anything to prevent.
So when he wakes up yet again in a blind panic, the first thing he does after catching his breath is to check if Ashe is awake beside him.
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Still, with his increase in tossing and turning, she'd been aware the nights had been a bit harder on him. For the most part she'd let him be, and if he stirred her, she'd been too sleepy to press and would simply try to soothe him by reaching out a hand to make him aware of her presence.
The month had been tough and for whatever reason things in Deerington had been harder on him recently. She felt it strongly through their connection, and she felt too that there were things he was holding back. They seemed to have an agreement on when to push and when to back off, but she was starting to want to press for answers.
She doesn't know what number panic attack he's on, but this time it does bring her out of her slumber as she feels the shift on the bed. The terror and panic is enough to filter through her consciousness and she can't ignore it, she wouldn't have been able to roll over and fall back to sleep if she wanted to. Sitting up, she leans into him and presses a string of tired kisses against his shoulder, while her hand strokes down his back in a soothing fashion.
"Just a bad dream darlin'. You're safe."
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Jesse…
He shuts his eyes tight and rubs his hands over his face, straining for his self-control. Keep it together, that’s all he has to do. He’s done it before. He can do it again.
“I know.” He nods, voice unsteady as he tries to breathe in time with the movement of her hand on his back. Slow. Soothing.
pain and loss and guilt, so much guilt
Guilt for lying to her. For letting Reyes die. For…
He won’t have her death on his conscience too. He won’t.
“Think I need some air.”
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"Alright," she says, giving his shoulder one last kiss before she pushes off the blanket and moves to stand up. Fresh air could sometimes be the best thing to chase the demons away. Here in Clark Acres, the night isn't as relaxing as it may have been back in Arizona, but she's prepared to go out anyway.
Ashe doesn't know whether he'll want the company of not but she's not taking no for an answer. They are in this together and like the months it's been harder on her, she's going to be be there by his side through this one. Grabbing her pants off the back of the chair she threw them on, she pulls them on and reaches for a light jacket. It had been surprisingly warm for a March in Maine, but the desert native wasn't complaining.
"Wanna go for a walk or a ride?"
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“A ride.”
Taking a car or a motorcycle out had always been a way for him to clear his mind. Walks were for thinking and getting in deep into your own head. Driving or riding around has the opposite effect. It’s the closest thing to meditation he thinks he can do.
He gets out of bed and grabs a jacket, looking back at her with a tentative smile.
“Dealer’s choice if you end up in the driver's seat."
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"Riding sounds really nice. Especially now that it's gotten warmer." She makes her way outside with him. The weather is pleasant, making it a nice night for a bike ride. She'd grabbed her keys on the way outside, so she'd had her bike in mind. He doesn't know that she's got plans to get him his own. For now they just have hers.
She holds out the keys. "I guess the question is do I want your arms wrapped around me, or do I wanna wrap mine around you."
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This is soothing though, the flirtation and the banter. It’s almost enough that he can push the storm raging inside of him to the back of his mind. Almost. It feels like his resolve is cracking, but he can only wonder how much of the guilt nausea sadness is getting through to her. That she hasn’t said anything about it bodes well to start.
“You trust me to drive it again? Because I wouldn’t mind your arms around me.” And the act of driving will help distract him.
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Her focus was more directed towards all the feelings that seemed to weave through her from him. Ashe still hadn't gotten used to connection they seemed to share. It had it's pros and cons, and had been good for helping them iron out some things, but it could be overwhelming to feel her own emotions as well as his. Sometimes it was hard to tell what she was feeling and what he was feeling. The nausea sometimes felt like it was her own, but it would ease up too quickly to be. So she was acutely aware that things were off, but she was still hopeful a simple ride on her bike would be enough to settle whatever was bothering him.
For the moment she doesn't press, instead climbing into her bike and scooting back to allow him space to get on in front of her. Maybe if they found a relaxing place, they could watch the sunrise and talk about it.
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“Couldn’t think of any better way to ride.” He flashes her a smile and a quick wink before settling on the bike, the warmth of her at his back a comfort. Already he’s feeling more settled, more like himself. If he can run the last vestiges of his nightmares out of his head with the roar the engine, all the better.
“Hold on tight darlin’. I’m not about to go slow.” He turns the key, and the bike roars to life beneath them.
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Nostalgia rose in her chest as they took off. Ashe couldn't recall all of their heists in detail, as there had been so many, but she could remember the the thrill of a heist and those wild, adrenaline filled moments after they'd gotten their score. If he was drivin', he'd rev the engine like that and they would go flying away to safety, sometimes with cops right on their tail. In her mind there had never been freedom quite like that. She hadn't ever told him but she'd loved him in those moments with her arms around him, the wind in her hair, and the world a banquet of potential.
The love is back now, not quite as innocent, but steady and strong. She's not just along for the ride with him on the bike, but also the ride of his feelings, which seem to be balancing out a little. Letting out a sigh, she presses her cheek to his back and clings tightly around his middle, enjoying him and enjoying whatever ride he takes her on.
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With that in mind, they go racing out of the driveway and into the night. He sticks to Clarke Acres and the outskirts of town, not wanting to get stuck in a sleepy suburban street. And it is calming. Ashe’s arms around him are grounding, keeping him from getting so lost in his thoughts that he gets reckless.
What would she have made of him, after the explosion? He’d thrown himself into fight after fight and had drunk himself into stupors that he’s surprised didn’t kill him. It’d been bad. Pathetic even. All because he couldn’t face what he’d done.
But none of it could compare to what happened to Reyes and the others. You killed them, Jesse
He speeds the motorcycle up.
Reyes half-crushed under debris as an “Overwatch” operative stared down at him, impassive. He was meant to die here
Jesse grits his teeth.
It’s your fault what he became.
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The peace of it is unsettled as she feels the questions and the anxiety and his own self loathing over something. It's fragmented in her own head, like listening to a recording that kept skipping. If she'd been a part of his life during that time, she wouldn't have allowed him to get so hard on himself, or she would have at least hauled his butt cowboy style out to the water trough and dunked him right in, before telling him to pull it together. Whether it would have helped was another thing, but then again when he'd returned to question her it hadn't gone well. It was a fight of theirs she didn't like to think about because she'd become hard on herself for putting up such a wall against him.
It was hard to not get stuck in the past when his thoughts seemed to constantly be circling around the past. She's torn between wanting to push and giving him his space. But when the name Reyes flashing before her eyes, a cold sinking feeling hits her stomach and she tightens her grip on him.
The roar of the motorcycle was loud enough that it would be hard to speak over it, but she feels bombarded by his feelings and whatever he's keeping from her, is starting to stress her out. She wants to know what's going on, because she can guess he can't move on otherwise. So reaching out with her mind, as well as leaning as close to his ear as she can to say it out loud, she calls out for him to stop the bike.
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“You alright?”
He waits until they’re pulled over to ask, the night around them feeling almost strangely muted compared to the roar of the bike. Thankfully, it’s really just a normal amount of quiet, otherwise Jesse would have kicked the engine back on and hightailed it out of there.
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"How 'bout you? How you doin'?" She gave him a pointed look, that suggested she was over the pretense. His anxiety and grief and guilt were so loud it was starting to make her feel jumpy. For better or worse they needed to solve this. "And I'd like the truth, please." Mixed into her agitation and need to know, was concern and despite her putting her foot down, that concern was clear in her eyes. She just hoped that he would be honest with her.
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which truth
He stays seated on the bike, but leans back so his hands are off the handlebars. He looks in turns defiant and defeated, stubborn and tired. She can probably feel the push and pull as he wrestles with what to say. And what not to say.
protect her
“You know I haven’t been great. Not since Rapture.” He really does hate the name of that city. Makes no damn sense. “I… saw an old memory.”
Reaper
“And it shook a few things loose in my head. That’s what the nightmares have been about, but they’ll go away.”
they did before
And none of it is even a lie.
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She takes a deep breath, unsure herself if she wants the truth of whatever it is he's hiding from her.
"I know. And I've been tryin' to give you your space about this, but you gotta trust me enough to let me in."
When he speaks of the memory and the name Reaper creeps up like a whisper in her own head, she swallows.
"I get nightmares, had enough of them myself here. But I can feel you're keepin' somethin' from me. And what's this about Reaper?"
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“No,” he says, not even aware he’s speaking the word out loud until it’s out of his mouth. But there it is, out in the open, and he shakes his head as he continues to speak. “Ashe, listen. This is one thing I can’t—”
don’t think about it don’t think about it
He’s giving himself a headache, and not just from sheer stubbornness. The bond works in mysterious ways, but it surely wasn’t meant to be fought with like this. The more he does, the harder it seems to be to keep his grip on it. It’ll happen any second now. He’s losing control. He realizes he’d stopped talking, teeth grit, eyes shut as he focuses. But trying to not think of something is a classically useless endeavor.
Reyes dying
GabeAnaJackOverwatchguiltReaperangerbeneath
the mask
he still looks like him
He can’t hold it anymore, and the bond opens up wide like a floodgate, the truth he’d been trying to suppress even louder and more forceful for it.
Reyes is Reaper. Reaper is Reyes.
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There's guilt. That's for certain. Which is a relief since he's hiding something from her. There is fear too and despair. She can feel that he wants to protect her, and she would argue that she isn't a child or get mad at him but there isn't a chance too with the flood of memories that seems to spill over the edge. She feels like she'll drown in the middle of it all, but she holds herself steady trying to sort through it all.
As the dust seems to settle, she can see it more clearly. There is a vacant look on her face as if she's watching a film unfold. She's a smart woman and it doesn't take her too long to start to put together the pieces. There is a growing chaos of emotions that fills her mind as she repeats the same thing silently to herself. Reaper is Reyes, Reyes is Reaper. Pieces start to fit together. Reaper's obsession with Jesse. The man she had briefly spoken to as a teenager, was the same person who had taken Jesse from her.
It's a lot to process, and Ashe is breathing heavily as she finally looks to Jesse. Her heart wrenches painfully as old wounds feel like they are being ripped open again. She holds herself high and strong, but he'd know she didn't feel it. Reyes had been here the whole time, and Jesse had known it. Had he been protecting him? Her? Whatever his reasons, she wasn't okay with it, and her protective wall of anger is growing and when she finally speaks she's too calm for it to be a good thing.
"This whole time...you've been keepin' this from me? Y'know...I wondered why he was so obsessed with you...but I never put it together."
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“Yeah. I have.”
No denial. No reason for it now.
“I didn’t know it was still him at first. Reaper… he had tells. I noticed them before even getting here, but I thought it was just his body. Just a shell left over from what Moira did. There was no way it could be Gabe under there. Then he ended up here…” And slowly, Jesse had realized Reaper was more than that. He’s not the same, not anymore, but what he is now is a lot more complicated than Jesse ever wanted to consider.
“He’s not the same man, but he’s not what I thought he was either. He’s somethin’ between.”
His gaze sharpens then, lit up with new intent. She can hold this against him, can freeze him out, can do whatever she sees fit if she only—
“Don’t go after him, Ashe.”
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Something in her had been stolen the day he had. Her own memories came rushing back to her.
A meeting where she'd yelled mercilessly at the other members of Deadlock when they'd told her they hadn't been able to find him. She'd made threats and demands and screamed at them to go back again to find clues that she knew herself weren't there. It only stopped when one of the other co-founders placed a hand on her shoulder that the emotion had overwhelmed her and she'd stormed from the room so they wouldn't see her apart. She lost it instead behind the safety of her bedroom door sobbing on her bed until she'd passed out from exhaustion. Nights of drinking herself to sleep, while wearing his old sweatshirts followed.
Once she did pick herself back up, it was meetings with dangerous gang leaders to try and figure out his location. Digging herself in deeper, while simultaneously building on her parent's business model to create new partnerships and alliances. From time to time she'd check in for updates on Jesse's location. When a desperate attempt to find him had gone poorly and her life and the lives of others had been at risk, she'd had to choose.
The Southwest had been ready to name her the leader and offer her the crown and throne, wealth, power, and notoriety were at her fingertips. It was a life that might not have had him, but it was filled with luxury and all the things that had started to feel more reliable than people and relationships. She loved her team and her found family, but she kept them at a distance. She could at least cover the loneliness with glitter and gold. Just as Mr. and Mrs. Ashe had taught her.
There is a particularly poignant memory. She was standing in front of a mirror staring at her reflection. Around her several boxes of his things were packed up. A photo of them playing cards sat on the sink, in worn, but undamaged condition. For awhile she just looked at herself, and she'd been crying. Her hair was tied back in a braid that was thrown over her shoulder. Reaching for a pair of scissors she holds her braid in one hand. She swallowed and closed her eyes considering. When she opened them her reflection is one of determination. The braid fell to the sink moments later and she worked with the scissors to get her hair into something that satisfied her. Then she reached for her blood red lipstick and applied. Once finished, there was a smirk of satisfaction. Ashe had shed the past and accepted her new life.
It wasn't just her hair she had cut away. She'd cut away many of the parts of herself that he had loved, because they reminded her of happier times, and she couldn't survive in the world she now owned if she had continued to let them run the show. But when he'd returned, she hadn't been the girl that had been left behind, she was a woman he hadn't known. One she wasn't sure she had fully recognized.
Not until Deerington. And she'd let her guard down. She'd often felt foolish where Jesse was concerned, but she felt more the fool now for allowing him in, only to be lied to. Reyes, the man who had been a thorn in their story since the day he'd taken Jesse, was part of the story again. And it wasn't just Reyes anymore, now it was Reaper. No wonder he hadn't liked her. No wonder he'd been frustrated when Jesse had returned to her. The greatest enemy to her happiness had been with them like a shadow all along, messing with Jesse all over again. He was the cause of Jesse's nightmares, but he'd also been the cause of hers.
Her tone remains cold, there is madness in her eyes, and her chin is turned upwards in a familiar way. The way she looks before she calls someone out for going against her. The way she looks before she comes for blood, and it's not Jesse's she wants.
"Or what?"
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He’d known about Ashe’s rise to power. Deadlock was still very much on Blackwatch’s radar even after the raid, with most of its leadership intact. He’d been proud at first. She was doing it. Everything they’d ever set out to take for themselves, she’d gotten. Then as his priorities had started to change, the pride… didn’t go away, per say. But it was tempered by regret. They’d just been two kids looking for freedom from their circumstances. They shouldn’t have had to turn into weapons to do that. Was the world a better place with Deadlock in it? He’d thought about that more than once. He’d wondered if she ever did too.
None of it is a surprise then, although her pain cuts him deep. The loneliness she’d endured, that he’d never known until Deerington.
But that’s something to think about later, because he knows that look in her eye. This is his worst fear coming to life right in front of him. Can she feel his fear? The slow but inevitable rise of sickening panic?
“Or he’ll kill you, Ashe.” His voice rises in volume, pleading. Jesse on the verge of begging is not something many have heard. “He won’t even think twice if you come at him. He was part of this experimental program when he was starting out in the military, him and Jack Morrison—government turned them into super soldiers. Shit’s still classified to this day, and it means it doesn’t matter what you do to get the drop on him. You’re not beatin’ him in a fight.”
He’s more afraid now than he’d been taking that bullet for Ashe. Him dying for her is one thing. Her throwing her life away is something else, something he can’t bear. He’ll do whatever it takes to stop this.
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She stands in front of him, her features unwavering as he tells her about Reyes and his talents, how she's surely to end up dead if she goes up against him. The truth of that isn't lost on her, but death has never been good at leading her away from danger, especially when only her own life at stake. Right now the thought of standing in front of the man she's wanted to tear apart since her youth is like a drug, and whatever the outcome she is craving revenge. The panic he feels gives her pause, but it's not strong enough to combat the desire to fight his old commander.
"Well if that happens the kitties will kill him for me and when we're both back, I'll get my revenge then. While his memory is gone."
She walks around him to the bike, reaching for where she kept Viper tucked and pulls the weapon out to start checking for bullets. "You can't stop me. I have been waitin' for this conversation for far too long." A small part of her is worried that is she does this Jesse wouldn't forgive her. It's at combat with the voice that reminds her that he lied to her, withheld information. Once again, he'd made a choice without her input, and she isn't even sure how to forgive him. It's a perfect storm inside of her and she's crazy enough in that moment that she doesn't care who or what gets destroyed in its wake.
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He turns, watching her check her weapon. Has she noticed yet that he took the keys with him when he got off the bike? Only a matter of time before she does. He can feel them in his pocket, a leaden weight that he ignores as he reaches out to put a hand on her arm.
“This isn’t worth it. He’s not even the same man in all the ways that mattered. The Reyes who took me is already dead, and I don’t want to lose you over the ghost that's left. That’s all he is anymore.”
A ghost still resembles the living though. Jesse knows this, has seen it for himself when looking at Reaper’s true face and seeing his memories. It’s not simple. None of this is simple.
“If you die tonight Ashe, over this, I…” his voice catches. “I don’t know what I’ll do. This is why I didn’t tell you, because I knew you’d go runnin’ off just like this.”
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If she were honest she'd admit it was harder to think about just herself in general these days. If she went up against Reaper and died, then she'd be disappointing more than just Jesse. Her recklessness would impact Chloe, Ben, and Roxas; youth that were trying to rely on her. She didn't even know how B.O.B. would take it.
She closes her eyes as the battle of desire continues to wage war instead of her head. Jesse's desire. Her desire. Her throat feels tight. Jesse had gone and cracked the fragile trust that she'd been trying to rebuild with him. It might have been a smaller issue if the previous transgressions that she had been holding against him were buried deeper. As it stood, she's still working through those issues and though being in Deerington had given them distance, it hadn't erased the pain they'd caused her.
A small voice inside of her knows he's right. As a leader she knew to keep information from people that would put them at risk. The turmoil of it all is raging inside of her and she lets Viper rest on the seat, throwing her hands up in the air and letting out a holler of frustration. If there were ghosts in the fields tonight, they were wise enough to not show themselves.
"What you'll do!? Goddammit Jesse! It's all about what you'll do, isn't it!? Shit like this always comes out. Always. But what? You gotta...protect me? Because if you gave a shit about protectin' me, you'd start to takin' me into account! This ain't the first time you've withheld information from me, will it be the last?" She doubted it, some habits were hard to break. "But let's get one thing straight right here and right now." Her voice goes cold and she looks him dead in the eye.
"If I die, doin' what I want to do, that's my goddamn right because I am a grown ass woman and I don't need your damn protection. Hell, I've been without it for years. I can give you a checklist of a hundred times I've needed you, but you weren't there to protect me. And why is that? Because of him." She gestured to nowhere, swallowing as she tried to reign in her anger. "I lost your protection because of him. Don't patronize me with it now. Because if you really believed he was gone, you would have killed him yourself for all the crimes he's done. Now give me the damn keys." She held out her hand and it was shaking from the break in her own resolve over the matter.
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It’s all about what you’ll do, isn’t it?
She’s right. That’s the hard thing about all of it really, that she’s right about so much. He hadn’t been there for her. Reyes was to blame, and no—despite what he says, he really doesn’t think Reyes is totally gone. And yes, even now, Jesse is making this about him to an extent. But that doesn’t stop anger from rising up to tangle with his fear—anger at her recklessness and her lack of regard for her own safety. She’d die for this, and she will unless he does something to stop it.
He meets her gaze with his own, steady and sad and fiery with determination.
“The whole reason I didn’t tell you is because I took you into account. You’re sure as hell not gonna do it for yourself. You think you’d be past this, throwing your good sense to the wind for revenge!”
He stops, breathing hard, eyes shining bright where the moonlight hits them. A wolf’s eyes. The anger is bringing it out more now, making him hyper-aware of the night around them and the danger on the wind. Slowly, he shakes his head and takes a purposeful step back away from her. The few feet now between them might as well be a mile. A canyon in a familiar desert they’ve both walked in before.
“No. Don’t think I will.”
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