by Aidan Wayne
“Was bad?” Shade asked quietly, shuffling closer toward the middle. Jason stared into his mug.
“Just memories,” he said.
“Sometimes those are the worst,” Chase said, and then he was moving closer too. “I know that—” He stopped, flicking a look at Shade, who nodded. “I know that with Shade, he hates to remember what really happened more than he dislikes what his mind will conjure up on its own.”
“Because it was real,” Jason whispered. “And it happened. I couldn’t stop it.”
“You also can’t change that,” Chase said, voice soft. “But you’re the one here now. You’re safe, and you’re trying to find your own happiness. The nightmares are just that: bad dreams.”
“I know.”
He still couldn’t make himself move, even though part of him was dying to just… curl up in their arms and sob. Maybe it was better that he was just frozen. Statues didn’t get hurt; they just got eroded away.
Sometimes he felt like he was disintegrating, pieces falling into dust and floating away in the wind.
It almost sounded peaceful.
“Jason?” Chase again, even closer than before. “May we touch you?”
Jason felt his tongue stick in his throat, unable to utter the no he should have. His shirt felt too tight, the long sleeves constricting and hot. Chase and Shade would just make him hotter.
He felt himself nodding anyway.
Chase gently took the still-full mug away and set it down on the coffee table as Shade wound his arms around Jason, holding on tight.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into Jason’s ear. “Sorry Jason’s hurting.”
Jason couldn’t bring himself to speak, but as Chase wrapped around Jason too, he felt just that much better. He’d come a long way, gaining comfort from their touch instead of shrinking from it.
Sitting like this, just like this, it almost felt like he could be better.
JASON CAME home one afternoon after a language session to find Chase and Shade curled up together on the couch, Chase sitting down with his back against the armrest, and Shade lying on top of him, head on his chest. Their hands were linked, most likely synced up. Shade’s eyes were closed, but they both must have heard Jason opening the front door, taking off his shoes, and coming in. They hadn’t moved for a reason, allowing Jason to see this. Wanting him to see this.
They’d been doing it a lot lately. Just little touches but more overt shows of affection. Holding hands, sitting closer together, exchanging quick, easy kisses. He was glad they were getting more comfortable, able to show their affection to each other more obviously; Jason had never wanted them to tamp down on that in the first place. That was theirs to have, and he was glad for it, that they had it. It made him happy when Chase and Shade were happy. That was honestly half the reason he kept trying so damn hard.
They fit together beautifully. Which was… good. Exactly what he’d signed up for, in getting a matched pair. No room or need for him, so no one could get hurt.
“Welcome back,” Chase said, turning to look up at him. Shade opened his eyes and smiled at him, then stood, walking over to Jason. “How was the session?”
“Hey, no,” Jason said, suddenly feeling like an intruder, “You don’t have to get up or anything.”
In response, Shade reached out and took Jason’s hand. His palm was warm from recently being synced. Or maybe it was naturally warm. And Jason’s mind was babbling.
“Sit,” Shade said, tugging Jason in the direction of the couch.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
“You aren’t,” Chase said, moving so that Jason wouldn’t be sitting on his legs. He patted the seat next to him and Jason sat down, Shade taking up a seat on the other side. They did that often with him now, tried to get him to sit in the middle. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He knew Shade and Chase, trusted them as best he could, even enjoyed the closeness they offered. But at the same time, he felt bad about that, because closeness from a Companion was one thing, and it was often encouraged, usually came naturally to most H-AI pairs. But it was another thing entirely when those Companions were already matched. Especially to each other. As nice as it felt to be included, they shouldn’t feel like they had to do it. Certainly not to this extent.
The touch from Chase wasn’t unexpected. His touches never were. Chase always moved slowly, carefully, let Jason fully see what he was intending to do before he did it. This time he fit himself against Jason’s side. The feeling was a shock even now, a warm body pressed against him without pain, without—without fear. Shade tucked himself next to Jason on the other side a moment later, and Jason had to control a few shaky breaths, feeling completely overwhelmed. He hadn’t even done anything, no breakdowns no—no need. Just them offering this like it was normal. It was almost a different kind of pain.
An eternity and a few minutes later, Shade shifted farther down so he was lying next to Jason on the couch, but not making contact. Chase pressed into Jason’s side once, a punctuation, and then also moved a few inches away. The loss was stark and immediate, and Jason didn’t know what to do with what he was feeling anymore.
When in doubt….
“I’m going to my room,” Jason said, standing up quickly. “Just—loosen up a bit. Class was a lot of sitting still, you know.” He escaped before he could see Chase look disappointed. Hopefully before Shade could sniff out the fresh shower Jason had already taken; he’d snuck in a training session after the Russian class. But he needed to clear his head, keep his body busy. He had no right to any of what he was thinking or feeling right now. Chase and Shade deserved better than that. Already had better than that.
Once he was in his room, stripped down behind the locked door to the mat, things were easier. He focused on the fight, on keeping his body ready and able. That was what he was good at for now, and better to hone it even sharper than think of… any other possibility.
A knock on the door startled Jason out of his zone.
“Yeah?”
“Jason? Shade.”
“Hey,” Jason said, from behind the wood. “Uh. Did you guys need anything?”
“Yes,” Shade said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Open door.”
Jason hurried to do it. “Sorry, sorry,” Jason said, hoping it wasn’t anything bad. Shade didn’t often ask Jason to leave his space; that was usually Chase’s domain. If Shade was the one asking—“What can I do for you?”
“Know you’re fighting,” Shade said. “Want to help. Want to fight.”
Jason’s mind fizzled out.
“No,” he said, fighting down panic. “No. Never. Sorry—no.”
Shade scowled. “Why.”
“I can’t,” Jason said, his sight clouding. “I can’t. I might hurt you. I can’t. I can’t—” It was getting hard to breathe. All he could see was him fighting Shade, a real fight, the win-or-die kind, and Shade would lose. He would lose even if Jason didn’t want to win, because Jason was the best and Shade would lose—His vision was tunneling, and some part of him knew he had to try to regulate his breathing, but all he could think of was Shade on the floor, synth-skin shredded and leaking, too broken to repair. He dimly felt himself fall to his hands and knees, heard some muffled shouting, and then two sets of hands were on him and he recognized that degree of warmth, his only thought and instinct becoming not to fight them off.
Jason held himself still and breathed, just breathed, because the alternative was hurting two people he cared about, and he wasn’t good, but he could be better.
“Jason?” Chase asked, voice soft. “Are you back with us?
“Not fight,” Shade said, sounding so, so sorry. “Never fight. Okay? Never fight. Promise. Didn’t mean fight. Meant play. Just play.”
“I don’t understand,” Jason gasped, trying to comprehend.
“Later,” Chase said. “We’ll explain later. Just breathe. Bring back your calm. You’re almost there. You’re doing so good, Jason. Keep breathing.”
Minutes crawled by, but eventually Jason was able to sit up again, ignore the rush in his head as he moved. A glass of water appeared under his nose, and he took it from Shade gratefully, drinking it down.
“Sorry,” he said, when he got his voice back. “I didn’t mean to freak out like that.”
“Shade’s fault,” Shade said, looking wounded. “Didn’t… words were bad. Shade’s fault.” He and Chase had linked hands, were synced up to talk. “Chase will say.”
“He was trying to say something else,” Chase said immediately. “An offer to play a game, take your mind off things. He never meant a fight fight. He’s really sorry for upsetting you.”
“Sorry,” Shade echoed. He clenched his jaw and then, slowly, forced out, “My… my words. Don’t come easily… I—” He gasped, a static sound, and continued, resolute. “I communicate more in… in feelings.”
Jason swallowed. That was the most complete sentence he’d heard Shade ever say. Just watching, he could see how hard Shade had worked up his programming to say it. “I get it,” Jason said. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean—I know you didn’t mean to trigger me.”
“Meant play,” Shade said, reverting back to his regular speech patterns. “Tag. Friendly.” He scowled at Jason’s confusion. “Chase!”
“A friendly game of tag,” Chase filled in. “Not really sparring, just—touch taps. It’s….” He looked at Shade, as if asking permission, and Shade nodded. With the sync, those gestures were unnecessary; they were showing Jason the question and permission. “One of the ways puppies play,” Chase continued, voice soft. The weight of his words, the sheer gravity of what Shade was suggesting, allowing, slammed into Jason as if they’d been shouted. “He knows how much you enjoy training sessions with other people, and this was something he could offer. He thought it might be fun and a different way to expend some energy.”
“Oh” was all Jason could manage. “Oh,” he said again.
“Didn’t mean triggers,” Shade said adamantly. “Didn’t mean pain.”
“I—I know, Shade. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I scared you guys.”
“Worried, not scared,” Chase said. “And that’s from both of us. Here, can you get up?”
“I—” He’d locked his muscles to keep from accidentally lashing out. Now everything ached. But he could move if Chase wanted him to.
Shade let out a wordless noise and shuffled forward, holding out his arms for Jason to see and expect the ensuing embrace. Moments later, Chase wrapped himself around Jason’s other side, chin coming to rest on top of Jason’s head.
The proximity and the feelings that came from it were exactly what Jason had been trying to avoid, but he was too emotionally exhausted to care. God help him, he didn’t deserve what he was getting, but he wanted it. Maybe it was okay for just a little while.
Even if he was going to have to do something about it. This couldn’t happen again. There was just too much at risk.
JASON ENDED up going back to the base and tracking Tyson down. He was too wound up, and the idea of hurting someone else was a feeling he couldn’t shake. He needed to get it worked out of his system. Sparring would help. Tyson would be in gear, knew how to hold his own, and was improving as Jason trained him. Jason hadn’t been shot anytime recently, but Tyson had managed to pin him a couple of times and keep him there.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Tyson said, “’Cause it’s a treat to work with you each time you let me, but usually it’s not as random as this.” They met once a week now, at a regular time. This was out of the ordinary. But though Jason had been assigned to train a couple more rookies, Tyson was the one he had the most experience with and who, in turn, was the most experienced. He could also count him as the closest thing he had to a friend, even if they currently never saw each other outside the training hall.
“Needed to get out of the house,” Jason said. “And you know. Wanted to beat up on someone who actually knew what they were doing.”
“Yeah, okay.” A beat, then, “Why’d you need to get out of the house? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Jason shrugged. “My Companions… I needed to be away from them for a little while.”
“Oh man, ouch.” Tyson winced. “That’s not good.”
“No, they—they didn’t do anything. I just. It’s suffocating. Living with two other people. Even if they’ve got my best interests in mind.”
“Probably sometimes especially then.” Tyson nodded.
“Yeah.” They walked in silence for a little bit. “But it won’t last too much longer, looks like.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m training like five of you right now,” Jason pointed out. “They’ve got me in here often enough even without fieldwork. I think they’re putting together a team for me. Think you’re on it.”
Tyson hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, there’s been some talk.”
“So it’ll work out. I figure, maybe another month and then they’ll be reassigned somewhere else and I’ll be working again. Win-win.” Even if the thought sort of made his stomach hurt. Even though he wasn’t looking forward to going back out there. Even if he knew he’d miss them and the thought of going forward without them now was maybe eating a hole in his chest.
But at least work was something he could do.
“I don’t know if it’ll be that soon, man,” Tyson said, looking alarmed. “I mean, it shouldn’t, right? You’ve barely been back two months. That’s… that’s really not a lot of time.”
“Clearly someone thinks it’s coming up on enough.”
Tyson closed his mouth, looking unhappy, and they made it to the training hall in silence.
CHASE WAS waiting for him when he got back.
“Shade’s in our room,” he said, voice a little clipped. “He panicked again after you left.”
Jason winced. He hadn’t thought—“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“We understand why you left,” Chase said, voice slightly softer. “We get that you needed space, after Shade triggered you. But Jason, you have to know how… how awful he felt. Is still feeling. We thought you were going to hurt yourself.”
“I told you I was going to base,” Jason tried, feeling desperate. “I told you I was going to train.”
“Normally you train here when something sets you off. Base training is harder on you. We thought you were going to hurt yourself,” he repeated. “And Shade is currently thinking that it’s all his fault.”
Jason clenched his fists. My fault, my fault, my fault. “What can I do? Can I talk to him? Does he—does he want to talk to me?”
“He might appreciate the assurance that you’re all right, yes.” Chase was angry. Chase was mad at him too. My fault, my fault, my fault.
“Okay. I’ll just… I’ll go. Talk to him.” He wanted his bag. But he couldn’t retreat again, not now, not with Shade. He covered the ground to Shade and Chase’s room quickly, knocking before he could talk himself out of it, make things worse. “Shade? It’s Jason. I’m, um, I’m back.”
The door was yanked open with such force that Jason startled, hands coming up in front of his body. He dropped them quickly, shoving them behind his back.
“How is Jason?” Shade asked, sounding drained.
“Fine! Fine, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left. I just needed to get away for a little bit, work some stuff out. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you worry or upset you. I’m sorry.” Fuck, he was always hurting them. Shade and Chase both.
Shade nodded, eyes roving over Jason’s body. “Hurt?”
“No. No, I’m fine. I just—I went a little one-on-one with Tyson. Just some cardio. I’m fine.”
“Sorry,” Shade said, looking murderous.
Jason swallowed. “No, it’s—you’ve got nothing to apologize for. It’s my fault. I’m sorry. I made you worry. You and Chase both. I didn’t think… I didn’t think. I’ll be better. I will.” And maybe one day he could
stop causing them so much pain.
Shade breathed out a sigh. “Okay. Okay, Jason.”
Jason swallowed again, took a deep breath, and opened his arms. “Shade?”
Shade’s eyes widened. “Really?” he asked, voice raw.
“Yeah. If… if you want to. I am sorry.”
Chase found them there minutes later, Jason’s arms carefully wrapped around Shade, Shade clutching at him tightly. Jason breathed and breathed and didn’t move, letting Shade hold on as long as he wanted.
Chapter Eight
JASON WASN’T sure what to expect after his fun little freak-out, but it certainly wasn’t Shade plopping down next to him on the couch one morning after breakfast and asking to “play.”
“Play what?” he asked warily. The last couple of days had really left him on edge. He’d been spending most of them on the mat. Or at the base, though he told them first, made sure to check in regularly, didn’t just leave. His feet were bruising, and he’d had to start bandaging his hands. Something in him clenched every time Chase or Shade frowned at them.
Shade’s eyes flickered down to Jason’s wrappings, and Jason felt the familiar feeling of disappointment, being in the wrong. “Tag,” he said. “Want to explain. What… what was meant. Before. No hurt. Please?”
“I….”
“No hurt,” Shade said. “Will—will yell. For Chase. If any hurt.”
Jason swallowed. He… he didn’t know if he could do this. But Shade never asked for things. And if this would help make him feel better, feel less guilty for before…. “You know that one of the reasons I was assigned an AI Companion was because they have built-in defenses. Shocks. Do-do you?” He hated to ask, but Shade had been modded. Jason wasn’t going to do anything unless he still had his defenses. In a real fight it wouldn’t make Jason go down, but if Jason lost it, it’d be enough to stun him back to reality and close himself off.
Shade nodded and held out a hand. “Fingers,” he said. And all of a sudden the nails extended, lengthened into claws. Jason blinked at them.
