To Live without Fear [Jeff the KillerxReader]

14

"She's a bitch with a massive grudge against me." Jeff grumbled, finally starting to come back to his normal self. "I killed her family a long time ago. She got away. Ever since she's been out get me. I've had a few close scrapes before, but today I probably wouldn't have made it out if it wasn't for...." He glanced up at you, then looked back at the floor. He let go of your hand. "Anyways, we need to get out of town, and fast." Jeff stood and offered you a hand up.

You took it and started to stand, but winced and fell back down the moment you put weight on your shredded ankle. "Yeah, no can do I'm afraid." You shook your head. "Hurt my ankle heading down the stairs. I'm not goin' anywhere at the moment."

Jeff looked down at your bandaged ankle, already stained with red, and sighed. He sat back down. "Alright. We'll rest for the night, then get going tomorrow. It'll take her a while to figure out I'm still alive anyways. Pass the burn ointment."

You gave him the tube of ointment and leaned back against the wall. A few things were still bugging you. Burning down the house wasn't exactly the most foolproof way to kill somebody. There were plenty of ways Jeff could have survived, even if Jane hadn't anticipated you saving him. You remembered something Jeff had said earlier. 'Probably considered it poetic justice'. You shifted to look at the killer. "Hey Jeff?"

"Yeah?" He grunted, rubbing ointment on his back.

"Are you afraid of fire?"

Jeff froze for a few moments, then started rubbing again. "What makes you say that?"

"So you are afraid of fire." You smirked a little. Jeff's denial was all the proof you needed.

Jeff closed the ointment and angrily tossed it back into the first aid kit. Apparently you'd hit a nerve. "Why don't you try getting lit on fire and being hospitalized for severe burns, then come back and tell me you're not afraid of fire." He huffed. You shrugged; it was a fair point. After a moment he sighed through his nose and looked over at you. "What about you? Not shaken at all by this whole life-threatening experience thing?"

You shook your head. "Not at all."

Jeff scrutinized you for a second, looking for any signs or fear. Of course, he found none. "Well since you now know my deepest darkest fear, it only seems fair that you tell me yours." He tried to bargain.

"Don't have one." You replied.

"That's not even possible." Jeff insisted.

"Tell that to my therapists." You sighed. "I'm serious. I don't know if it's some synapse not firing, or some chemical I don't have, but I don't feel fear. Like, at all."

Jeff leaned back. "Huh....so that's why-"

"-why I never even flinch? Yeah."

There was a pause, and then Jeff began to laugh. "What's so funny?" You asked, somewhat irked by his reaction. Your lack of fear had caused a lot of problems in your life, so you didn't think it was much of a laughing matter.

"All this time I was worried I was losing my scariness." Jeff explained, finally calming his laughter, "I'm just relieved that it's not me, it's you."

You rolled your eyes. "Believe what you want. You wouldn't even scare a chihuahua."

After that, Jeff did his best to take care of you. Since you couldn't get up, Jeff did all the finding and packing of your hidden emergency supplies, including your old tent and camping equipment. You two sat together in silence and shared a party bag of chex mix as the sun started to sink towards the horizon.

Jeff looked out over the darkening room and then down to your wounded ankle. By now, the bandages were pretty badly stained with blood. "You should probably change those before it gets too dark to see." He commented.

"Yeah....didn't expect it to soak through so fast." You admitted.

"Let me take a look at it. I'm pretty good at this kind of thing." Jeff suggested. You let him unwrap your bloody ankle and gingerly lift it so he could take a look. "That explains why you're bleeding so much. You really need some stitches on a few of these cuts."

You groaned, "Fantastic. How the hell am I supposed to get stitches?"

"I can do it." Jeff said, out of the blue. You looked at him skeptically, and he added defensively, "I've done it to myself plenty of times. Don't worry."

"Just don't fuck it up please. I need that for walking." You sighed. You knew he could be practically surgical when he was making cuts, but you weren't so confident in his abilities the other way around.

"Scout's honor." Jeff replied. He grabbed the first aid kit and got to work. He cleaned your ankle up again, wiping away all the blood and cleaning the deep cuts peroxide. He fished around in the kit and found a needle with a spool of surgical thread. You didn't have much by the way of numbing agents, so you just had to tough it out. Jeff began stitching together your deep cuts. He wasn't exactly gentle, but at least he was fast. You clenched your draw and tried to ignore the stinging pain and the feeling of the sharp needle poking through your flesh. After about 10 minutes, Jeff was done. He put new bandages over your ankle and wiped his hands off on a rag. "That should do it."

"Thanks." You sighed. God, you were exhausted. You dug through the supplies Jeff had gathered and pulled out a sweatshirt, which you wadded up and made into a pillow. You moved onto your back and rested your head on the sweatshirt. "I'm gonna turn in for the night. I'm beat." You said, shifting to get more comfortable.

"You gonna be good to go in the morning?" Jeff asked, taking a seat in the corner a few feet away.

"Ask me in the morning." You yawned, "You gonna sleep?"

"I think I'll stay up a little longer." The Killer shrugged, "Might go make sure we didn't leave a trail on the way here."

"Alright. See you in the morning."