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Take my past and take my sins
Like an empty sail takes the wind
And heal, heal, heal, heal
– Heal by Tom Odell
It was too much, all of it, somehow simultaneously a crushing weight and a vast nothingness. He had nothing and no one left in this world, nowhere left to turn, not a single person to give a single fuck whether he lived or died or hovered somewhere in between.
He somehow felt too much at once and yet nothing at all, this desperate need to scream, to shout, crawling around in his stomach. But he’d already done that, the remnants of his meltdown scattered around him in pieces of splintered wood and shattered glass.
The tears fell hot and heavy down Jackson’s cheeks as he covered his face with blood-streaked hands, as though there were anyone around he needed to hide his breakdown from. Sobs tore their way from his chest and he let them, a desperate, hollow kind of nausea building inside him.
He had nothing left to give, and no one left to give it to anyway. He could trace this feeling of rock-bottom back through every single moment of his life, every decision that led him here, led him to being alone in the world.
He was tired–so tired–and he’d been tired for so long, it was all catching up to him now. All the people he’d lost, all that time spent running, all the ways he’d fucked up, pushed people away, left them behind, been left behind in turn. Every single moment in his life boiled down to this one.
What he felt was indescribable. It wasn’t a tangible thing, a thing he could pinpoint. It wasn’t that Susan wanted nothing to do with him or that Mimi didn’t love him enough to stay or that Reid had deemed him a failure, a waste of time and space. Those things stung and they certainly didn’t help, but he was sure this feeling had always been with him, deep down, like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
And now it had, the pieces of his heart, his soul , shattered beyond repair.
He was sure something had been broken inside him since birth, something rotten and festering that made him say all the wrong things, made him love people who couldn’t love him back, made him feel the need to run and run and run towards nothing. Just away, away, away.
He felt like he could barely breathe. His head throbbed, his stomach churned, every part of him seemed to ache as great, heaving sobs left him, loud and messy and wet and, fuck, he was sure he felt worse for it but he couldn’t manage to stop.
Then, out of nowhere, arms encircled him, pulled him in close til he met a solid, warm chest. He didn’t have any strength left to feel shame. He just fell into the embrace, pressed his face into that broad chest and breathed in the familiar scent of Inspector Reid between loud, stuttering sobs.
It took a while for Reid’s mantra to reach Jackson’s ears, for the gentle litany of, “I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” to break through everything else and settle into his soul.
He sniffed heavily, pulling out of Reid’s embrace to wipe at his face. He felt a flicker of shame, sure and true, at having been found in this state, at having fallen apart completely in Reid’s arms, of all people, but mostly he just felt wrung-out and completely exhausted. The temptation to just lie down where he was and never get up again was strong.
“You’re bleeding,” Reid commented gently, taking Jackson’s cut-up hands in his own.
Jackson huffed out a half-laugh, staring down at his hands in Reids, at the contrast between Reid’s pristine skin and Jackson’s own, scarred and bloodied. “That I am.”
“What happened?”
Jackson shrugged, pulling his hands away to gesture at the mess around them.
“I meant…” Reid hesitated, but Jackson had realised what he’d meant before he even said the words and his shame flickered red hot in his gut. “Is this…Are you…”
Jackson laughed, dry and without humour, and finally looked at Reid, finally allowed Reid to look him in the eye. “Don’t strain yourself too hard, Reid.”
“Did I cause this?” Reid whispered, eyes wide and desperate. “Did I–”
“No, Reid. It ain’t about you.” The words came out sharper than he’d intended, and he glanced down again.
“I’m sorry if–”
“God damnit, Reid, I said it ain’t about you,” he snapped, some of his fire returning for just a moment before flickering out entirely. He slumped forward a little, cradling his hands in his lap.
“Then what?” Reid asked, voice so soft Jackson felt a pang in his chest.
“This is who I am.” His voice sounded as hollow as he felt and he hated it. He forced himself to meet Reid’s gaze once more, head-on and unflinching. “This is Matthew Judge in all his fucked up glory.”
Reid tilted his head, studying Jackson’s face like he was cataloguing every detail, looking for something, though God knows what.
“You are more than this, Homer Jackson,” he said eventually, and Jackson snorted in response, bitterness rising within him.
“I’m really not.”
Jackson reached into his pocket, rummaging til he found his cigarettes and matches. He lit one, savouring the first inhale, the way it soothed just a little of the ache in his chest, the throbbing of his hands, the utter helplessness he felt, before letting it out in a long, slow exhale. He couldn’t bring himself to get up off the floor just yet, but he could damn well enjoy a smoke before he had to pick up the pieces of his life again. The thought brought the hole inside him back into sharp focus and he felt the ugly, unrelenting sting of tears at his eyes once more.
He watched from the corner of his eyes as Reid stood, taking a moment to survey his surroundings before walking out of Jackson’s line of sight. He wasn’t sure how much time passed–time felt meaningless–before Reid was back, kneeling in front of him with a basin of water and first aid supplies.
“Give me your hand,” he said quietly, and Jackson complied wordlessly, holding his cigarette with one hand while giving Reid his other.
He watched as Reid tended to the small cuts on his hands, not even wincing as he gently pulled slivers of glass from inside small cuts, prompting fresh blood to bead at the surface of his skin. He watched as Reid cleaned him up, first one hand, then the other, bandaging the large gash on his right hand but leaving the others free to breathe, already having stopped bleeding.
There was a thank you on the tip of his tongue, genuine gratitude for Reid’s care pushing through the hollow bitterness that was overriding everything else, but he couldn’t quite get the words out. Instead he just pulled his hands back, lighting another cigarette, unsure what else to do.
Wordlessly, Reid gathered what he’d used and disappeared from view again. He seemed to be gone long enough that Jackson wondered if he’d left entirely–he wouldn’t be surprised, Reid had already done more than Jackson deserved–before he became aware of the occasional clinking of glass and the sweep of a broom.
He looked up, eyes searching for Reid until he settled on him through the large bifold doors, sweeping up the shattered remains of his medical cabinets.
“You don’t gotta do that, Reid,” he said quietly, voice wavering a little.
“I know,” Reid replied simply, with a small shrug and a smile aimed at Jackson.
Jackson watched him for a moment, watched him carefully put undamaged items in a row on the window sill, watched as he righted furniture and placed things where they seemed to belong, until he couldn’t watch any longer. He forced himself to his feet, swaying a little as his head spun.
“Stop,” he said, voice rough from tears and disuse. “Stop it.”
To his credit, Reid stopped immediately, eyebrows pulling together. “I’m only trying to help.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need your help, Reid,” he bit out, anger bubbling up inside him from fuck knows where. “What are you even doing here?”
Reid sighed, leaning against the broom in his hand, looking far more sad than he had any right to. “I felt bad about the way we left things. I came to…to try and make it right.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity.” Reid stood a little straighter, propping the broom against the wall before moving towards Jackson. “I was heedlessly cruel and I regret my words. They were untrue and unkind.”
Jackson looked away, heart hammering painfully against his ribs though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was so riled to begin with.
“You, Homer Jackson, are one of the best doctors, the best men , I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I am sorry if I caused you any pain.”
“I told you this wasn’t about you.”
“You did,” Reid said quietly, coming to stand directly in front of Jackson, close enough that Jackson could smell him again, subtle but horrifyingly comforting. “And while I’m sure I didn’t help, I believe you.”
“Then why…” Jackson gestured around them, at the half-cleaned mess that he calls home. “This.”
“Because you needed help and I am here,” Reid said as though it were just that simple, hand settling on Jackson’s shoulder. “Because I believe you would do the same if the roles were reversed. Because I care about you and I know of no other way to help.”
Jackson’s lips twitched, an almost-smile taking him by surprise as a small pocket of warmth bloomed behind his ribs, cowering in the dark cavern of his chest. He licked his dry lips, tears pricking at his eyes once more, and internally cursed himself for being so weak, so fragile, so easily damn broken.
“I can go if you wish,” Reid all but whispered, hand still firm on Jackson’s shoulder. “But I’m not going anywhere unless you make it explicitly clear that that is what you need from me.”
Jackson swallowed thickly, ducking his head, swiping at the tears gathering in his eyelashes. He sniffed, letting out a watery chuckle before forcing himself to meet Reid’s eyes once more.
“Sure, Reid,” he said quietly, voice still scratchy, still raw but not as hollow-sounding anymore. “If that’s what you want.”
If you want to waste your time on me, if you really want to be here trying to fix something that can’t be fixed, if you really want to be here and nowhere else.
“I do,” Reid said with an uncharacteristically easy smile, giving Jackson’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go, taking a step back, back towards the broom, and Jackson missed his touch instantly.
Wordlessly, Jackson joined him, helping him tidy up the mess he’d made of his quarters, trying to ignore the small stabs of sadness and frustration he felt at every item he’d have to replace to get his surgery functioning again. It was his own fault, all his own damn fault, but that somehow made it worse than if someone else had come in here and tore the place apart. He had nowhere to direct his anger but inward, but he already felt helpless enough without adding more to the mix. If he were alone, he would just stop, just give up, likely fall asleep with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. But Reid insisted on staying, insisted on helping him clean up, so he continued on, picking up the pieces of a broken life he wasn’t quite sure how to put back together.
“Do you wish to talk about it?” Reid asked quietly once the job was done, glasses of whiskey in hand, cigarette smoke billowing in the small space between them.
None of Jackson’s chairs seemed to have survived, so they sat themselves on the floor instead, backs to the walls, shoulders pressed together.
“Nothin’ to talk about,” he muttered through a breath of smoke, staring resolutely ahead as that cavern within him vibrated threateningly.
“Jackson–”
“No, Reid,” Jackson cut him off harshly. “You helped me out here, and I appreciate that, but you don’t get to go digging as a reward.”
“I wasn’t trying to dig,” Reid said quietly, and the hurt tinge to his voice made Jackson’s stomach curl in a strange mix of guilt and anger. “I only wish to understand. To help.”
“Yeah, well, you can't.”
Jackson saw Reid give a small, tight nod out of the corner of his eye and relief and disappointment warred within him. God, he was tired of conflicting emotions, of nothing making sense.
“I wish you could,” Jackson whispered before he could think better of it, voice cracking just a little as some of his pain seeped back out.
“Could…?”
“Help.”
“Ah.” Reid stubbed his cigarette out and turned a little to look at Jackson, bumping their knees together in the process. “Would it help to talk it through? I will admit to not being the best at handling others' emotions, but the least I can do is be quiet and listen.”
Jackson’s lips twitched, a breath of laughter escaping him at Reid’s honesty. He shook his head, letting it fall back against the wall with a thunk, rolling it to the side to look at Reid. “Ain’t nothing much to say, really. I’ve always been a fuck up not worth a damn, always been real good at making wrong turns, loving the wrong people, making a mess out of everything. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place and I thought I was building something here worth staying for, something I wouldn’t have to run from. But it’s the same as it always has been. Dunno why I’d thought it’d be any different in this shithole compared to any other.”
He let the words sit heavy between them, not shifting his gaze from Reid’s, watching as the words settled over him, as his eyes grew a little sad, expression pinching, minute enough that most wouldn’t notice, but Jackson had spent years cataloguing every inch of Reid’s face and all his micro-expressions.
“I’m not good, or nice. People always work that out sooner or later. Why you’ve come back is the real mystery.”
“You–” Reid broke off, a small, frustrated sound coming from the back of his throat before he put his drink aside and turned his whole body towards Jackson, legs awkwardly tucked up behind him, expression open and earnest and unexpectedly raw. “I don’t need you to be good or nice to be worth a damn, Jackson. I need you to be clever, I need you to be loyal, I need you to be you , exactly as you are. Fuck nice and fuck good.” Jackson snorted, surprised to hear Reid curse, but before he could comment on it, Reid continued. “You are many, many things, Captain Jackson, not all of them good. But I believe you have a heart bigger and purer than most, I believe you have good intentions, I believe you would go to the ends of the earth for those you love. You are loyal to a fault and I would have you by my side, in my corner, until the day I die.”
“Loyal to a fault, yet I’ve betrayed you in so many ways.”
Reid smiled, a real, genuine, albeit slightly sad smile. “You have always worked to fix your mistakes.”
“You sayin’ you don’t care?”
“Of course I care. I will always care. But those times you’ve betrayed me? You’ve done so to protect someone you love.” It went unsaid that that someone was Susan, was always Susan when perhaps it should have been Reid. “As much as I wish it were me you were loyal to and no one else, your heart is far too big for that.”
Jackson huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes as he looked away. “You make it sound more noble than it is.”
“I won’t pretend to know your life before we met, nor will I pretend to understand every part of you now. We all have secrets we will never share. But I believe I know you better than most, as you know me, and I can unequivocally say that you are someone worth knowing, Jackson. You have value in my life and I will not let that go uncommented on. I may be harsh with you, I may hold you to higher standards, I may needle and prod and make demands I shouldn’t, but it is all because I believe in you, because I trust you above all others.”
“Jesus, Reid,” Jackson choked out, once again blinking back the threat of tears. “You’re overcompensating.”
Reid’s lips twitched and he shrugged. “Just needed to be clear.”
“If I didn’t know better, Reid, I’d think you were one step away from a love declaration.”
It was meant to be a joke, something to ease the tension, ease the twisting of Jackson’s heart and Reid’s obvious guilt, but Reid’s face paled slightly, his expression shuttering, closing off as he pulled back a little, and Jackson was reaching for him before he could stop himself, cupping Reid’s face.
“No, hey don’t do that,” he whispered furiously. “Don’t shut me out, not now, not after all that.”
Jackson watched the bob of Reid’s adams apple as he swallowed, watched his jaw work as he warred with his emotions, eyes downcast, but he didn’t pull away from Jackson’s touch. Jackson brushed his thumb across Reid’s cheekbone, relishing in the flutter of Reid’s eyelids, the sharp intake of breath, and he wondered if he’d truly been blind all this time or if he was reading too much into the already charged moment.
“I just needed you to know.” Reid’s voice sounded raw and ragged suddenly, so unlike the cool calmness of before, and Jackson’s heart stuttered in his chest.
“Okay,” Jackson whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “Now I know.”
“And you believe it?”
“I…” he sighed, unable to lie so easily about something so complicated.
“Please,” Reid practically pleaded.
“It’s not that easy, Reid,” Jackson said through a sigh.
“I know. I know, but please don’t leave.”
“I’m not…hey, I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? What made you think I was?”
Reid gestured around them, pulling his head back, eyes a little wet, a little glassy, a little vulnerable. Jackson huffed a tired laugh, shaking his head.
“You helped me put my life back together even though you thought I was going to leave?”
“I’d hoped it would help change your mind.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jackson said quietly, and before he could lose his nerve, he reached out and brushed Reid’s hand with his own, let their hands sit side by side, fingers touching, an invitation, the most he knew how to give to someone as closed-off as Reid. He wasn’t sure his heart could take rejection tonight.
To his immense relief, Reid brushed his pinky finger along Jackson’s before covering Jackson’s hand with his own, threading their fingers together in the small space between them.
“Good,” Reid whispered, giving Jackson’s hand a firm squeeze. “I would have you by my side, come what may.”