Al(lie)son

One shot-Aftermath

I woke up with my heart pounding, blood chilled in my veins, and reached out for him. Instead all I grasped was air, and the bedroom door was open. Still shivering slightly, I padded to the door, pulled on my robe that was hanging on the back of it.

Wes was where I usually found him when he couldn't sleep. Gazing out at the city, his long, lean frame braced against the sliding door of the balcony. His face, reflected back in the glass revealed a deep frown and thinned lips. The muscle in his jaw ticked at a steady rhythm.

He didn't hear me, because I wasn't wearing any shoes, but the dog did. Sherlock stood and made his way over to me. Wes turned and immediately his previous expression turned into one of concern, and he moved quickly, crossing the living room to me in a few large strides.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't there." His hands ran over my arms, his voice soothing some of the nerves in the pit of my stomach. But the strain leaked out a little from beneath his relaxed tone. "You're so cold."

I shivered in response, avoiding his searching gaze. His jaw tightened. "How bad?"

Looking up at him, I didn't have to say anything because he swore as he saw the tears gathering in my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He gathered me close as I clung to his hoodie and let some of the tears fall. "I'll never-"

"I'm not sorry I took the bullet. You know that." My voice cracked. "It's-"

"You don't have to tell me." He took my hand and led me over to the sofa, pulling me down into his lap.

"There was so much blood." The smell of iron and salt was permanently etched into my brain, even though I didn't want it there.

His hold tightened and the strain in his voice intensified. "Parking lot or room?"

"Both."

Even after two months since I'd been out of the hospital, even though my therapist had been incredible in helping me through the trauma, Wes still understood what I'd been through the most. He'd been there too.

I wasn't the only one haunted by demons and bad memories.

"How about you?" I lifted my head from his shoulder. "You know you can tell me."

He avoided my gaze until I grasped his chin and forced him to look at me. The anger that simmered beneath the pain in his eyes turned them almost black, even in the dim light from the single lamp next to us.

"Every time I wake up and you're there, I remember how it felt when I thought you wouldn't make it. They say it gets better with time." He paused, and the anger turned to frustration. "Time needs to go faster."

I laughed through my nose. "I'm with you there."

Sherlock jumped onto the couch, and since he couldn't rest his head on my lap, settled for my ankle, with an annoyed look at Wes.

"Between the both of you, I don't get enough privacy." I sighed, and Wes chuckled, releasing me to let me ease off his lap and onto the seat beside him instead. The dog's tail thumped hard while he readjusted himself to place his head in my lap. My brothers had taken to teasing Sherlock because, "He constantly likes to be as close to you as possible because kinda like Wes, he's your bitch too."

Both the dog and Wes didn't care about the term. They knew it was true. Especially Sherlock. Their understanding and their relationship in general had become something that I still couldn't explain. It was like they had some sort of unspoken alliance that either one of them would be with me at all time. Sherlock even waited for me outside the shower.

Which is why it all the more unsettling that he was with Wes. It worried him enough for him to leave me. At least I knew they had each other's backs as well as mine.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked. "You must've had a bad one."

Wes lifted a a shoulder and dropped it. "It was bad. But you were asleep."

"Hey, we're in this together." I squeezed his hand. "I'm here for you, just as much as you're here for me."

"I know." He brushed his lips over mine. "Believe me, it's hard to forget when a girl takes a bullet for you."

"Wes." I smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Stop. It was my choice."

"Kind of hard to forget that you were unconscious for three days because of said bullet, hon."

"You got beaten to hell, and a gigantic cut on your arm." I pointed at the healing wound. "Just for trying to get to me. I'd consider us even."

"We'll never be even."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to have to be a therapist because someone has gotta get through to you and change your mind."

"We'll see." He finally grinned. "I'm quite stubborn."

"We'll see."