Jase closes the front door carefully, locks it, and throws the deadbolt. Some idiot had left a window open out in the hallway, and it was cold enough in here as it was, so after he shoved Luke into a steaming hot shower, Jase had gone out, closed it, and mopped up the water that had gotten in, because probably it would be better if no one slipped and fell down the stairs.

He’d already gotten a fire started, and finally it was starting to warm the room, orange light flickering. Rain pounds against the glass doors to the balcony, and the occasional lightning flash illuminates the sky, and he’d rather Luke wasn’t tempted to go back outside into the storm, so Jase yanks all the curtains closed, comforted in the solidity of the blackout material.

And then he’s terrified, because for once, they’ll actually need it.

The bathroom door clicks open, and Jase half-turns from the window, hand still clutching at the blackout curtain. Luke shuffles out, looking tired in flannel pants and long-sleeved shirt, dark circles under his eyes, and a heavy bruise shadowing one cheekbone.

Forcing his hand to relax, to release the fabric into place, Jase crosses to the fireplace, folding himself to sit a few feet away from it, pointing at the carpet in front of him, so that Luke will only be a foot or so away from the open flames. Luke’s a few degrees colder than he should be after a hot shower, so his body will need all the help it can get.

Luke sits, stiffly, and the fire will only help that, loosen him up some, get his circulation going again.

“Let me see.” Jase says, and Luke pulls his dog tags out from under his shirt and holds them out. The most recent inscription is still glaring, so freshly cut, and there is only room for one or two more below it, and then Luke will have to get a fourth tag. Already, they hang heavy against his chest and only steal warmth that he desperately needs.

He sighs, and traces the bruise on Luke’s cheek with light fingers, erasing it from pale skin, and the line of the bone is sharper than it should be, and he knew it, Luke, again, had lost weight he couldn’t afford to.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says dully. “The food at West Range was horrible. And no one can cook.”

“What happened?” Jase asks softly, slowly warming Luke’s blood, well aware that to move too quickly would just thicken it, causing just more problems.

“I… the storm, I’d been cut off—”

“Luke—”

Luke pauses, bites his lip. “He scared me.” He says quietly, barely.

“Who?”

“Commander Nelson. He—he was yelling, and waving his arms around.”

The temperature in the room dives, and the fire sputters. Jase responds by speeding Luke’s heart up just a touch, improving circulation, and quickly warming the blood in his extremities. “Stop it, Luke.” Jase says gently. “It’s okay.”

“I’m tired.” Luke whines, and Jase nudges him with a toe.

“Why was he yelling?”

“I don’t know, all I did was build a small storm over the Range, the twister only lasted a minute or too, there wasn’t any reason for him to freak out.”

Jase sighs, and bows his head, because Luke is never going to realize that no one sees the weather quite the way he does, and that, yeah, even a thirty second long tornado is reason to panic, even one lightning bolt in the wrong place is terrible and terrifying.

Luke edges closer, and pokes him. “If I’m not allowed to sleep, neither are you.”

“I’m not sleeping.” Jase mumbles, but it would certainly be easier if he was. He raises his head to look Luke in the eye. “Why’d he scare you?”

It’s Luke’s turn to look down, and he chews his lip nervously.

“Stop that,” Jase says. “It’ll tear.”

Luke looks up at him, stormy blue eyes weary and wide. “He was going to hurt me.”

Blood is welling on Luke’s lower lip, and Jase reaches out to swipe his thumb across the cut, closing it easily. “He wouldn’t have hurt you, Lukey, even if he was angry. People aren’t like that.”

Eyes hardening, Luke leans back, and again, the temperature drops, bringing a chill to the air. “They are,” Luke says, harshly, firmly. “They are.”

Jase sits up a bit straighter, skin suddenly prickling, because Luke sounds so sure. “Why do you say that?” He asks carefully.

Luke looks edgy, now, almost like a wounded animal, and Jase can hear hail pelting the windows, the wind howling. “They just are; people’re dangerous, dangerous.”

“Who hurt you, Luke?” Jase says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Who hurt you?”

“No one, everyone, no one, no one, no one.” Luke is visibly shaking, now, and the wind screams. Jase reaches a hand out, slowly, and again, again, horribly, Luke flinches, shies away from him.

The air thins, and he’s struggling to breathe, a little, and the windows are rattling in their sills. “Who?” He asks, the word tearing from his dry throat, and disintegrating as the air snatches it from his tongue, tugging it this way and that, and the fire dies with a rush.

Slowly, slowly, Luke is losing it, pulling in on himself, curling into a ball, hiding from the world as he buries his face in his knees, and it’s all Jase can do to drag himself across the floor towards him, the wind pushing and grabbing and building. There’s a violent crash, and a window has shattered, and there is a massive inflow of cold and rain and slush, and instinctively Jase wraps Luke’s heart in a cocoon of warmth, protecting its pulsing beat from the anger of the storm.

And then he’s up on his knees, shielding Luke from flying glass as a second, third, and fourth window explode inwards, curtains tearing from their rods, rain spraying everywhere. Somewhere, someone’s screaming, as presumably other windows on this floor splinter in their frames.

It’s cold, so cold, and he’s bleeding, and the wind is everywhere, loud and pushy and mean, and it’s all he can do to keep breathing.

And then, and then, it stops. The wind dies, glass shards drop to the floor, the temperature rises, the rain peters out.

It is eerily silent, and Jase contorts himself so that he’s leaning against the wall and pulls Luke until he’s half sprawled across him, half curled up next to him, and holds him closely, tightly, and lets him cry; he’ll get his answer later, he knows.

Previous: Scene 6-VI

Scene 6-VII

Next: Scene 6-VIII