The windows are open. Jesse blinks groggily, squinting as the sunlight shines directly onto his face. He turns onto his side, away from the window - only to come face to face with Casey.
All the events of the previous night come crashing down onto him then, as he studies Casey. Asleep, he looks so much more at peace - the stress and worry usually found on his face disappears, and his lips part just slightly, and his combed hair becomes an absolute mess, like it is now.
As Jesse watches, Casey's brows pull together. He lets out a small noise as his eyelids flutter, and then he opens his eyes - only a little, and he looks at Jesse from under his lashes. It must have taken him a moment to process the situation, because he pulls the blanket up to cover his mouth and nose and watches Jesse for a few seconds before his eyes widen. He sits bolt upright, the blanket falling away from his shoulders to reveal smooth, pale skin.
"Oh, Lord," he groans. He runs a hand through his silvery blond hair and then glances over at Jesse almost timidly. "We...I..." His cheeks are tinged with pink.
"Yeah," Jesse replies amusedly. He props his head up on one shoulder, finding Casey absolutely adorable. "Yeah, we did."
"Where are - where are my clothes?" Casey mumbles, peering over his side of the bed. He grabs a pair of pants off the floor, checks them, then throws one pair to Jesse. "Yours."
With no small amount of mirth, Jesse catches them and watches Casey fumble with second pair he picked up.
"You seem uncomfortable," he finally observes. "What's wrong, Hawkes?"
Casey clears his throat as he pulls on his pants. "Nothin's wrong," he says, but Jesse knows him far too well for that.
"Really?" he asks idly. "You sure? You seem a bit...tense." He reaches over and slides his arms around Casey, then pulls him down onto the bed. Casey swallows audibly, his back to Jesse, but he still leans back. They lie like that for a heartbeat, and then Jesse tilts his head forward and nips at the place where Casey's neck meets his shoulder. Casey lets out a long, shuddering breath - and then he pulls away from Jesse and sits up completely. A sigh slips out of him, and he puts his head in his hands.
"I can't do this. I'm sorry, Jesse, but..." He turns his whole body to look at Jesse. The sunlight filters in through the trees outside and onto Casey, turning his eyes into forty shades of gray. "I need to tell you somethin'."
"What is it?"
"I..." Casey swallows, playing with the edge of the blanket. His eyes dart away, and then return to Jesse's. "Stop that. Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like...like you actually care. You're making this a lot harder than it has to be."
"Jus' spit it out, darlin."
"I slept with you because you reminded me of my ex-boyfriend!" The words spill out of Casey in a rush, and he sucks in a breath. He looks away from Jesse, biting the edge of his lip so hard he draws blood. "I slept with you because...because you reminded me of my ex-boyfriend," he repeats, quieter.
Jesse says nothing. He simply watches Casey, waiting. The silence ticks on for one beat, two beats, three beats. Casey sucks his teeth, seeming uncomfortable in the lengthening quiet.
"You...laugh like him, you talk like him, hell, you even have the same eyes as him," he murmurs. "You...you also do other things just like him," he adds as an afterthought, pink rising to his cheeks as he twists the covers in his hands. "If I hadn't known better, I'd have said you two were the same people. But he's...he's dead -" Casey's voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "He's dead, and it ain't - it ain't fair of me to lead you on like this. It ain't fair of me to treat you like some - some sort of substitute. That's what I did last night, and I'm sorry."
Jesse still says nothing. His eyes skip over Casey's body - his bruised lips, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the dark freckle on Casey's hip that he had made sure to pay extra attention to last night.
Casey swallows as he stands up. "I...I reckon that you hate me right now, and I just wanna say, that's...that's fair. So I s'pose -"
"July twenty-fourth, eighteen fifty-nine," Jesse interrupts. He flicks a speck of dust off the blankets and sits up.
"W-what?"
"July twenty-fourth, eighteen fifty-nine," he repeats, leaning forward. "It was a blazin' hot day. We'd known each other for what, two years then? We was runnin' from the sheriff after robbing this man and his lil' wife in their stagecoach. They couldn't give us much, but it was enough." He chuckles darkly. "Course they called the sheriff. We hid in this muddy stream under a bridge. I was nineteen, you was seventeen."
Casey's hands are shaking. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He closes it again.
"We listened to the hoofbeats above our head as the sheriff and his men rode out on the bridge, and then...and then..." Jesse's voice fails him. He licks his lips and tries again. "And then you told me you loved me." He shakes his head and lets out a soft laugh. "You were so bleedin' afraid. Your hands were shaking and your mouth was so dry...I thought it was the funniest thing, the way you could watch a man die at your feet no problem but the thought of talkin' bout your feelings set your knees knockin'."
"Jesse?" Casey whispers, and Jesse isn't quite sure whether he means Jesse Jordan or Jesse Foster. He sits down heavily on the bed, grey eyes trained on Jesse.
"August thirtieth, eighteen sixty one," Jesse recites. "Three years ago. You surprised me in my room at midnight. I was playin' my violin, and I didn't want no one to hear, but you did. Then it was you who found the whole situation hilarious - Jesse Jordan, most notorious criminal in America - plays the violin? But then...but then you told me to play you something. You sat down on my bed and asked me to play something. So I did. And then you told me I'd never looked more beautiful." A suspicious wetness prickles at his eyes, and Jesse looks away.
Casey's knuckles are white as he grips the blanket. His gaze is fixed on Jesse as he leans forward slightly, but Jesse isn't finished yet.
"March third, eighteen sixty-four."
"Jesse."
"I woke up 'round eleven or so, and I turned to find you, but you wasn't in bed anymore. I wasn't worried, I assumed you went down to eat breakfast. You wasn't. Then I thought you were readin' something somewhere else in the house. You weren't." His voice loses some of its softness. "I looked for you everywhere, Casey. I looked in every bleedin' place I could. I didn't find you anywhere. Anywhere. So then I asked Thomas if he knew. And you know what he said?"
"Jesse," Casey says again. His voice is thick and his eyes are shiny, but Jesse doesn't acknowledge him.
"I'll tell you what he said. He said that you left. You an' Sierra. I didn't believe him until I looked around and I realized that there was nothing in the house that belonged to you. Even in our room. You had taken everything, and you left the gang. You left me."
"It wasn't my fault!" Casey's voice comes out choked, and he drops his head as he begins to cry softly into his hands. A wave of pain washes over Jesse, but he pushes it down. He watches Casey, jaw set.
"It wasn't your fault? Somethin' else made you leave, huh? You didn't even say anything to me! Was it me? You didn't love me anymore?" Jesse hadn't meant to say this much, but he realizes every word that spills out of him is what he fears, what he's locked away for these last six months. "Damn it, Casey! You could've just told me the truth! I ain't so special, I ain't so fragile that you need to keep secrets from me for my own good!"
"No! No, no, no!" Casey's voice breaks as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you, Jesse. You - you wouldn't even - you wouldn't even believe me if I told you how much I loved you. But...but I couldn't live like that anymore." He draws in a deep, shuddering breath, and then exhales just as carefully. "I couldn't keep running, I couldn't keep lookin' over my shoulder every second. It wasn't good for me, and it sure as hell wasn't good for Sierra. But..."
"But what?" Jesse's voice comes out a snarl.
"I couldn't tell you! If I told you I was leaving, you'd...you would look at me, really look at me. I don't think you know this, but you get this look in your eye when you're about to cry, Jesse. You set your jaw a-and look towards the heavens, and you keep your hands busy to hide how they shake." His eyes are closed, his voice heavy. "And if I saw that, I knew I'd never be able to leave. I couldn't have you try to convince me to stay. If couldn't, I just couldn't." He finally looks at Jesse, his eyes shiny.
Jesse swallows as he plays with a loose string from the blanket. He looks up at the ceiling, his breathing unsteady.
"I..." He lets out a broken laugh. "You always were too good for the gang. For me. I reckon you were the only one who never killed anyone or - or anything." He looks down as Casey takes his hand. He keeps his eyes on Jesse's hand, running his thumb over his knuckles.
"But...but how?" he asks, his voice low. "Hundreds of men saw you die. They saw your neck break, they saw the hangmen throw away your body. I know - I know you're capable of a lot, Jesse, but I reckon not even you can come back from death. "
"That so?" Jesse asks with a grim smile, although it's more a baring of teeth than any actual smile.
"And -" Casey's head snaps up. "You look nothing like you did before!" He reaches out hesitantly, and Jesse closes his eyes as Casey brushes some of the hair off his forehead. "Except your eyes," he says softly. "Your eyes are exactly the same."
"I'm a wanted man, Casey," Jesse says quietly, his eyes still closed.
"I know that -"
"No. You don't." Jesse opens his eyes to look at Casey, his grip tightening on his hand. He licks his lips, hesitates.
Casey squares his shoulders. "Then tell me."
"I...I did die, Casey. Six months ago, they hanged me and I died. And..." Jesse pauses. "I went to hell."
Casey's gaze on him sharpens, and he tilts his head to look at him. He lets go of Jesse, and for a moment, he's sure that Casey is about to step back or maybe even leave. But all Casey does is climb over to sit on his legs.
"So there really is a hell, then," he says quietly to himself.
"I went to hell," Jesse repeats. "But I escaped. I reckon it's a bit stressful down there." Both Casey and Jesse let out a dry laugh, although it's really not funny. "I took two things. First, this ring." He brings his hand up to the light and shows Casey the copper glinting dully on his left middle finger. "This is the only thing stopping them from finding me. The moment this comes off, all hell breaks loose." A wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Literally."
"What was the second thing?" Casey breathes. He touches the ring once, and then carefully puts Jesse's hand back down.
"This body. I took extra care to make sure it was a looker," Jesse admits after a moment. "They almost caught me because most of the bodies I picked up were ugly. I had to get a good one..."
Casey laughs disbelievingly as Jesse's voice trails off. "You almost got yourself caught by the Devil himself 'cause you ain't wanted to look homely?"
Jesse blushes bright pink. "I...yes. C'mon, Casey. Every single rumour about Jesse Jordan mentions how handsome he was. I couldn't let that go."
Casey laughs again, low and wonderingly. "You're so vain," he murmurs, taking Jesse's face in his hands. "My vain, beautiful boy." His hands tremble, though, and he touches him with infinite care, like he's afraid that he might turn to ashes in his hands if he isn't cautious.
The way he kisses Jesse this time is different. It's slow, soothing, soft. Jesse slips his arms around him and pulls Casey down so that they lie side by side, facing each other.
"What are you going to do now?" Casey asks after another kiss, pulling away slightly. "About...he waves a hand." "About everything." His brows pull together, and he frowns in that way Jesse knows so well.
"Why are you so troubled, darlin?"
"I'm afraid for you, Jesse. Listen...I love you. So much. But if you're gonna go back to stealin' and lootin' and killin', I ain't comin' with you."
"Casey -"
"This is a second chance, Jesse." Casey brushes Jesse's hair away from his forehead again. "No one knows you. Everyone thinks Jesse Jordan is dead. Let's keep it that way. Take your second chance, Jesse, please."
"Relax, Casey," Jesse says wearily. He turns on his back and closes his eyes. "I ain't gonna be doin' no more criminal things. Except one. D'you remember that night? The night they caught me?"
"I wasn't there, Jesse."
"I was sold out. I heard the sheriff talkin. They got an anonymous tip about me." He turns his head to look at Casey. "Someone ratted me out. No one but our inner circle could have known."
"What?" Casey's face is drawn.
"I'm goin' back there, Casey. I'm goin' back there, and I'm puttin' a bullet between their eyes. All of them." He licks his lips. "Lil' shits don't get to sit back and count their reward money after stickin' their knives in my back."
"Jesse..."
"I don't have that much time anyways."
"What? What do you mean?"
Jesse hesitates. "They sent someone after me, Casey."
Casey stills. "Are you being chased?"
"No. Yes. Kind of." Jesse chews the inside of his cheek. "They have a demon lookin' for -"
He breaks off as someone bangs on the door outside. Jesse and Casey exchange a look, and then both of them burst into a flurry of motion - throwing the sheets back, hastily combing their hair, pulling pants up, running into the living room to grab their clothes from in front of the fire.
The door endures another round of banging as the person outside raps at it again. Jesse stumbles out - his right boot isn't on, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, but he's starting to worry for Casey's door.
"What?" he snaps as he pulls it open. "For God's sake, man -" He stops. Colt is outside, looking distinctly afraid, but his expression slips into surprise as he sees Jesse. At Casey's door.
"Jesse?" he asks, eyebrows raised. But he shakes his head quickly. "Get the Hawkes out. Now, now, now - we don't have time. Hurry - the church is on fire." He waves a hand in the direction of the church; the acrid scent of smoke hits Jesse's nose. He coughs as Casey appears behind him.
"Colt? What's going on?"
"Church's on fire. Hurry. We need all the help we can get."