Wake of the Dead | Two

Chapter Twenty-Three | Jasper & Killian

After a few seconds processing everything, Chris and Harley worked together to move a bookshelf in front of the one living room window. Jasper's vision blurred. The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. He couldn't breathe, choking desperately on whatever air he could take in. Voices sounded far off and fuzzy, dull, echoing as if everybody were speaking through a tunnel. His arms shook as he tried to pull himself up, using the couch to help himself. Killian's familiar face stumbled clumsily in front of him, his hands cupping Jasper's cheeks.

"Baby, it's okay. Everything alright now, you're safe." Killian said desperately. Jasper could feel a cold sweat on his forehead. Unsteadily, he pressed his face into Killian's neck, his breathing sharp and catching in his chest.

There was nothing else to say as his voice cracked, "Killian," He whispered, feeling tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "Killian," He repeated shakily. As the tears spilled over he could only repeat the other man's name. He hid his face from the others, not wanting them to see him cry. "Killian." The younger man's scent engulfed him. He drank it in, almost as if it was water.

Gentle hands awkwardly stroked his hair. Killian pulled Jasper even closer, wrapping his arms around him as best as he could. Jasper was too terrified at the time to notice how Killian's arms couldn't reach all the way around him. "You're safe. I won't let anything hurt you." Killian soothed. He was trying his best, Jasper could tell, but it was painfully obvious that he didn't have much experience with comforting others. Yet, it worked.

Gradually, Jasper's breathing began to even out. He felt lightheaded, his chest burning and feeling tight. Every bone in his body trembled, his hand still clenched tight around the tire iron. Jasper felt Killian's warm hand help him pry the crowbar away from his grip, letting it drop to the floor. "I'm okay," Jasper said softly as he began to collect himself again. Suck it up soldier, he scolded himself silently. You've seen worse that first day in the city. Somehow it still felt different. Wilson had been somebody he'd known. Now, he'd witnessed the man get ripped to shreds and eaten alive.

"What the hell happened?" Tom said. His eyes suddenly narrowed, a frown on his lips. "Where's Wilson?" Nobody from the patrol spoke. Jasper's mouth grew dry, a painful lump in his throat preventing him from uttering a single word. In their grim silence, Tom's expression changed from bewildered to solemn.

Across from Jasper, Casimir cradled Keagan in his arms, holding the back of her head as she clung to him, her hands gripping onto his shirt. Samantha helped Casimir adjust to take the bow and quiver off of his back without letting go of the young woman in his arms.

Beside him, Darren pressed against Jasper's side, laying his head against his shoulder. He gripped onto Jasper's arm, hand shaking, squeezing him to an almost painful level. "Jasper..." He said shakily. His eyes were glazed over, staring at nothing, widened and horrified.

When Jasper slowly began to recover and force his mind back to working, he realized that the events of what happened replayed in his mind. Yet, the more they repeated, the less he felt. He knew what was happening. Something similar to what he'd experienced a few times before. As a coping mechanism, he was processing the events over and over in rapid succession until they no longer frightened him. It would always haunt him he knew. But until he had the time to appropriately react to what happened, the trauma would fade into the back of his mind.

The only person that seemed generally unaffected by the sudden action was Cohen. The doctor stood next to Tom, his gaze more calculative than alarmed. The man's arms crossed as he surveyed the scene, his expression unreadable. When he pinpointed Jasper's pseudo-recovery he said bluntly, "Tell us what happened before you lose your memory."