Fic: To Battle Is The Only Way We Feel Alive
Author: 
siricerasi
Fandom: Dark Blue / 24
Characters/pairings: Jaimie/Dean, Renee Walker
Rating: R
Word count: 1259
Warnings: Self-injury
Spoilers: Dark Blue vague for entire series, 24 season 8
Summary: "He wasn’t sure he could ever compete with that."
Author's Notes: Written for
hc_bingo, prompt self-injury and crossover. I'm not usually a crossover kind of girl and I was going to skip this round, but this popped into my head so I wrote something. Might need to continue with this verse, there's much more I want to explore =)
Title/cut lyrics from "Alibi" by 30 Seconds To Mars
“So what’d’you think of her?”
Dean blinked, shifted to stare down at the blonde head resting on his shoulder. Jaimie was playing with the fringe on his blanket, pointedly not looking at him or even really seeming to pay any attention. It wasn’t like they were cuddling - they didn’t do that. They’d just happened to end up in a heap like this after sex, and they’d both had some time to kill, so… they definitely weren’t cuddling.
“Of who?” he asked absently, like he didn’t know. Alex had brought some new chick in, another FBI agent who’d just moved to LA. Or ex-FBI, actually. He wasn’t sure why she was necessary, or why Carter had let her in. The team was getting entirely too big for his taste.
Jaimie kicked him with an annoyed noise, and Dean sighed. “She’s a fed,” he answered.
“Ex-fed.” He rolled his eyes, brushed back her hair so he could see her face.
“Okay, ex-fed. Who cares, Jaimie?”
She was silent for a moment, chewing her lip absently. “What if she finds out about me?” Her voice was small, almost scared, and it tore something in his chest. Something he didn’t really want to think about.
“Then she finds out,” he murmured, tightening his arm around her unconsciously. “I don’t think she will, sweetheart. Alex didn’t, and she’s been here a year.”
“Renee is different.” She sounded so damn sure, almost resigned. Like she’d already given up, which was… just something Jaimie didn’t do.
So he shrugged a little, kissed her forehead gently. “Even if she does, Jaimie, we’ve got your back,” he reassured her. “Me, Carter, Ty - you know that.” She hissed out a slow breath, nodding slightly as he ran a hand along her arm. She melted a little under his touch, tense muscles easing, and it wasn’t cuddling if she needed it this badly, right?
“Besides, I hear she’s done some pretty shady shit herself,” he said lightly, trying to put her mind at ease. He hated seeing her upset, more than he’d like to admit. “She is, as you pointed out, ex-FBI. I hear she tortured a guy so bad they fired her."
“Sounds like Carter’s kind of girl,” she huffed. “She can do all his dirty work.”
He smiled, fingers playing lazily with her hair. “Yeah, there was something involving a guy’s thumb and a power saw?” Jaimie didn’t answer, and he decided for the thousandth time that he gave up trying to figure her out. “Either way, sweetheart, I don’t think she’s gonna be a problem.” Not with the amount of dirt Dean was sure he could dig up on the ex-fed; no way he’d let this Renee hurt Jaimie.
Not that Jaimie needed to know how far he was willing to go for her.
Jaimie sighed. “You always say that,” she grumbled, shifting closer as she closed her eyes.
He smiled. “And I’m usually right.”
“Asshole.” But her body, warm and pliant and molded to his, spoke differently.
They were getting dressed later, about to head off to work, when he touched her arm gently, turned her toward him. She was still tense, clearly still spiraling in her head, and he hated to see her like that.
“I won’t let her hurt you,” he told her quietly. “You know that, Jaimie. I’ve got your back.”
Her shy smile sent a dull heat spiraling through his gut, and he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face.
***
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when Renee was helping Dean pack ammo, that he understood why Carter had hired her.
It was at least 100 degrees out, so she’d finally shed the faded jacket she always wore and just had on a purple long sleeve shirt that brought out the bruises under her eyes. Well, she didn’t sleep; point one. (He refused to think about how damn well he slept whenever he was with Jaimie.)
But then her sleeve caught on a zipper, and pulled up to expose her forearm, and suddenly Dean understood.
Carter always was a fucking bastard.
Dean wondered idly how bad it’d been, if she’d been hospitalized; the scars he saw before she yanked her sleeves down looked deep, still a dark angry red, and he put that together with the dead look in her eyes and suddenly he was too angry to breathe.
He stormed out of the loft, not even sure who he was angry at. Trying not to think about anything but the anger, because thinking about anything else…
Ten minutes later he was outside Jaimie’s door, arms latched tightly around her the moment she opened it.
“I love you,” he choked into her shoulder, as she slowly rested her arms around him in shock. “You know that right I love you.”
She traced her fingers lightly along the back of his neck, making him shiver. “I know,” she murmured, kissing his cheek and holding him closer. “Hey, hey, Dean, I know. I love you too.” He shuddered, forced down the panic that threatened to flood his chest. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing, I just…” He shook his head into her shoulder, gulped down several shaky breaths. “Carter’s a bastard.”
She laughed a little. “We knew that, baby.”
“Yeah.” He slowed his breathing forcibly, drew calm from her warm, steady strength. “Okay.”
She let him hold her for another minute before pulling back, hands cupping his face. “You okay?” she asked, eyes full of concern. Not that he could blame her; they were all so horrible at expressing any emotion, let alone fear. But something about Renee… he’d always hoped Carter had some sort of limit, some line he wouldn’t cross. That he wouldn’t throw them all completely to the wolves, wouldn’t let them self-destruct so totally.
He’d been wrong, and it terrified him. For himself, and for Jaimie.
“Yeah,” he rasped, trying to smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just…” He swallowed, and she ran her fingers through his short hair lightly.
“Just you love me?” she finished with a soft smile. He thought of Renee’s dead eyes, flashed to that morning he’d found Jaimie shaking beside her crashed car. That moment she’d looked at him, strung out in her ripped black dress; that moment he’d realized she was as fucked up as the rest of them. That moment he’d realized she’d do anything for Carter, from dying to selling herself to worse.
He wasn’t sure he could ever compete with that.
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, kissed her desperately. “Yes,” he mumbled into her mouth, clutching her to him again. “I love you and I need you please don’t go anywhere.”
He felt her start of surprise, the slow realization as she rested her head on his shoulder gently. “Not planning to,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I promise. Okay?”
He pulled back, hands on her shoulders and eyes boring into hers. No longer dead; haunted, yes, but not that hopeless apathy he’d quickly grown to hate. The same emotionless gaze he’d seen in the mirror every fucking day.
“You’re not her,” he stated. She smiled softly, reaching up to rest one hand on his.
“No,” she agreed. “And neither are you.”
The edge of his lip twitched. “Pretty sure we’ve established that, sweetheart.”
“Hmm.” Her finger stroking the back of his hand was entirely too distracting. “Maybe you should show me again.”
As many times as it took, to keep that light in her eyes.
siricerasi
Fandom: Dark Blue / 24
Characters/pairings: Jaimie/Dean, Renee Walker
Rating: R
Word count: 1259
Warnings: Self-injury
Spoilers: Dark Blue vague for entire series, 24 season 8
Summary: "He wasn’t sure he could ever compete with that."
Author's Notes: Written for
hc_bingo, prompt self-injury and crossover. I'm not usually a crossover kind of girl and I was going to skip this round, but this popped into my head so I wrote something. Might need to continue with this verse, there's much more I want to explore =)
Title/cut lyrics from "Alibi" by 30 Seconds To Mars
“So what’d’you think of her?”
Dean blinked, shifted to stare down at the blonde head resting on his shoulder. Jaimie was playing with the fringe on his blanket, pointedly not looking at him or even really seeming to pay any attention. It wasn’t like they were cuddling - they didn’t do that. They’d just happened to end up in a heap like this after sex, and they’d both had some time to kill, so… they definitely weren’t cuddling.
“Of who?” he asked absently, like he didn’t know. Alex had brought some new chick in, another FBI agent who’d just moved to LA. Or ex-FBI, actually. He wasn’t sure why she was necessary, or why Carter had let her in. The team was getting entirely too big for his taste.
Jaimie kicked him with an annoyed noise, and Dean sighed. “She’s a fed,” he answered.
“Ex-fed.” He rolled his eyes, brushed back her hair so he could see her face.
“Okay, ex-fed. Who cares, Jaimie?”
She was silent for a moment, chewing her lip absently. “What if she finds out about me?” Her voice was small, almost scared, and it tore something in his chest. Something he didn’t really want to think about.
“Then she finds out,” he murmured, tightening his arm around her unconsciously. “I don’t think she will, sweetheart. Alex didn’t, and she’s been here a year.”
“Renee is different.” She sounded so damn sure, almost resigned. Like she’d already given up, which was… just something Jaimie didn’t do.
So he shrugged a little, kissed her forehead gently. “Even if she does, Jaimie, we’ve got your back,” he reassured her. “Me, Carter, Ty - you know that.” She hissed out a slow breath, nodding slightly as he ran a hand along her arm. She melted a little under his touch, tense muscles easing, and it wasn’t cuddling if she needed it this badly, right?
“Besides, I hear she’s done some pretty shady shit herself,” he said lightly, trying to put her mind at ease. He hated seeing her upset, more than he’d like to admit. “She is, as you pointed out, ex-FBI. I hear she tortured a guy so bad they fired her."
“Sounds like Carter’s kind of girl,” she huffed. “She can do all his dirty work.”
He smiled, fingers playing lazily with her hair. “Yeah, there was something involving a guy’s thumb and a power saw?” Jaimie didn’t answer, and he decided for the thousandth time that he gave up trying to figure her out. “Either way, sweetheart, I don’t think she’s gonna be a problem.” Not with the amount of dirt Dean was sure he could dig up on the ex-fed; no way he’d let this Renee hurt Jaimie.
Not that Jaimie needed to know how far he was willing to go for her.
Jaimie sighed. “You always say that,” she grumbled, shifting closer as she closed her eyes.
He smiled. “And I’m usually right.”
“Asshole.” But her body, warm and pliant and molded to his, spoke differently.
They were getting dressed later, about to head off to work, when he touched her arm gently, turned her toward him. She was still tense, clearly still spiraling in her head, and he hated to see her like that.
“I won’t let her hurt you,” he told her quietly. “You know that, Jaimie. I’ve got your back.”
Her shy smile sent a dull heat spiraling through his gut, and he knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep that smile on her face.
***
It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when Renee was helping Dean pack ammo, that he understood why Carter had hired her.
It was at least 100 degrees out, so she’d finally shed the faded jacket she always wore and just had on a purple long sleeve shirt that brought out the bruises under her eyes. Well, she didn’t sleep; point one. (He refused to think about how damn well he slept whenever he was with Jaimie.)
But then her sleeve caught on a zipper, and pulled up to expose her forearm, and suddenly Dean understood.
Carter always was a fucking bastard.
Dean wondered idly how bad it’d been, if she’d been hospitalized; the scars he saw before she yanked her sleeves down looked deep, still a dark angry red, and he put that together with the dead look in her eyes and suddenly he was too angry to breathe.
He stormed out of the loft, not even sure who he was angry at. Trying not to think about anything but the anger, because thinking about anything else…
Ten minutes later he was outside Jaimie’s door, arms latched tightly around her the moment she opened it.
“I love you,” he choked into her shoulder, as she slowly rested her arms around him in shock. “You know that right I love you.”
She traced her fingers lightly along the back of his neck, making him shiver. “I know,” she murmured, kissing his cheek and holding him closer. “Hey, hey, Dean, I know. I love you too.” He shuddered, forced down the panic that threatened to flood his chest. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing, I just…” He shook his head into her shoulder, gulped down several shaky breaths. “Carter’s a bastard.”
She laughed a little. “We knew that, baby.”
“Yeah.” He slowed his breathing forcibly, drew calm from her warm, steady strength. “Okay.”
She let him hold her for another minute before pulling back, hands cupping his face. “You okay?” she asked, eyes full of concern. Not that he could blame her; they were all so horrible at expressing any emotion, let alone fear. But something about Renee… he’d always hoped Carter had some sort of limit, some line he wouldn’t cross. That he wouldn’t throw them all completely to the wolves, wouldn’t let them self-destruct so totally.
He’d been wrong, and it terrified him. For himself, and for Jaimie.
“Yeah,” he rasped, trying to smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just…” He swallowed, and she ran her fingers through his short hair lightly.
“Just you love me?” she finished with a soft smile. He thought of Renee’s dead eyes, flashed to that morning he’d found Jaimie shaking beside her crashed car. That moment she’d looked at him, strung out in her ripped black dress; that moment he’d realized she was as fucked up as the rest of them. That moment he’d realized she’d do anything for Carter, from dying to selling herself to worse.
He wasn’t sure he could ever compete with that.
He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, kissed her desperately. “Yes,” he mumbled into her mouth, clutching her to him again. “I love you and I need you please don’t go anywhere.”
He felt her start of surprise, the slow realization as she rested her head on his shoulder gently. “Not planning to,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean. I promise. Okay?”
He pulled back, hands on her shoulders and eyes boring into hers. No longer dead; haunted, yes, but not that hopeless apathy he’d quickly grown to hate. The same emotionless gaze he’d seen in the mirror every fucking day.
“You’re not her,” he stated. She smiled softly, reaching up to rest one hand on his.
“No,” she agreed. “And neither are you.”
The edge of his lip twitched. “Pretty sure we’ve established that, sweetheart.”
“Hmm.” Her finger stroking the back of his hand was entirely too distracting. “Maybe you should show me again.”
As many times as it took, to keep that light in her eyes.