Chapter 12

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Darcey was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep.

He rolled onto his back, resting the back of his head on his hands, and glanced over at the window. It was still dark outside. He didn't know what time it was and he knew better than to check. It felt like hours had passed but if he checked the time, it would turn out to only have been minutes. Time ran differently for insomniacs.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

Gunfire.

It couldn't be coming from outside, this was a safe area, but it was except it wasn't because it wasn't so far away, it was right above him, and Doc slammed Darcey facedown in the dust with his hand hard between Darcey's shoulder blades, his head just above his, and Campbell was yelling something Darcey couldn't make out over the hissing and banging in his head. His DCUs were hot on his skin, stiff with dirt and grit and rough on his arms and knees, gravel embedded in his cheek and he pushed Doc off of him and pulled him down to the ground in the same movement. They were screaming, all around him, not just his fellow servicemen but civilians, parents and grandparents and kids and shopkeepers.

Darcey couldn't hear anything over the fire of machine guns and the screaming. Campbell's mouth was moving but Darcey couldn't read his lips. He was still standing and was going to get hit if he didn't, "Get down!" Darcey screamed, trying to get up to get to him but Doc's weight landed heavy on his back.

"Walker, stay down!" Even though Doc was right by his ear, Darcey could still barely make out the words and

"Darcey!" It looked like Doc, but couldn't be, he never used first names, so who –

"Darcey, Darcey, what's wrong?" The voice was panicked, afraid, and Darcey didn't blame it in a hellhole like this –

Then, warm, strong hands gripped his face, holding him still, and his eyes slowly came back into focus but not completely because something wet obscured his vision. He was crying.

Jordan's wide, scared eyes darted over Darcey's face. Oh, god, what did he do, please, please say he didn't hurt him. "Jordan," Darcey choked out. "What –"

"What happened?" Jordan got to the question first. Slowly the room started coming back around Darcey; the carpet under his hands, his arm curled over Jordan's head. The room was dark and shadowy but even though he'd only been there a handful of times, he knew it. This was Jordan's room, at his apartment, on the floor. Hadn't they been on the bed?

Jordan's hands still rested on his cheeks, warm and firm, but gentle, and Darcey's breath was too heavy and it made his chest sting.

"I was," he started, but then choked on his words, because he hadn't told Jordan anything about it yet. He might have known Darcey had served overseas, but only if Iffy or someone else had told him, and that wasn't likely because wouldn't he have brought it up if that had been the case? Darcey's arms trembled, suddenly barely able to hold his weight.

"Darcey." Jordan's voice was soft, but firm. "Talk to me. Please. What happened?"

"What did I do? Please tell me I didn't hurt you."

Jordan shook his head. "No," he said. "No, no, no. I mean, I bumped my shoulder when we hit the floor, but nothing big. It doesn't even hurt anymore." His wide eyes darted over Darcey's face, echoing his concern, but for completely different reasons. With every moment that Darcey didn't explain, Jordan slowly started to slide deeper into panic, because if he didn't know what was wrong he couldn't help fix it and he needed to, he needed Darcey to be okay. Darcey licked his bottom lip as his fists clenched on the floor.

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