Wes awoke on the hard floor to Jackson leaning closely over him.

Wes spent an entire few beats freaking out before he remembered who he was and where he was. Wes felt exhausted all the way to the bone thinking about all of that.

“I feel better. I can think a little bit more clearly.” Jackson said in way of greeting from where he squatted on the floor next to Wes. “I can’t remember the last time I was able to think this clearly.”

Sweet, Wes thought when he couldn’t summon the energy to speak, at least one of them got something good out of this. His eyes slid around to see he was laying on the floor by the tub, soiled towels around him. He figured he had been puking in his sleep and Jackson had been keeping him from choking on it, which was, uh, not a pretty sight.

“I’ve seen worse.” Jackson said quietly.

Wes grunted and squirmed to get more comfortable on the ground, his brain feeling oddly loose inside his head.

“I made a couple of calls. They say this is a normal reaction for your sort - the specialists. It’s more profound, takes more from you." Jackson explained, "You can’t give as easily, but what you have to give is so much more powerful than what others have. There are so few Keys likes you...just like there are so few Locks like myself.”

Wes grunted, not particularly impressed. All he knew was he was freaking tired, couldn’t lift his head, was nauseous as fuck, and had work in an hour. Today you could get plain cheese pizza for a dollar less, he remembered, which meant it was going to be crazy at work.

“I called in sick for you.” He heard Jackson say from somewhere.

Wes groaned and found that when he reflexively slapped his palm onto his face, he could use his hands just fine. Can’t call in sick. Already did that too many times. He’d get fired.

“They understood when I mentioned who I was and what we were doing." Jackson said firmly. "They congratulated you on being a patriot and thank you for your service.”

Wes found he could also blow raspberries. Patriot. Yeah right. Human sacrifice was more like it.

“You hungry?” Jackson asked lightly. "They said I should try and get you to eat."

Wes grunted and fell back asleep.

When he woke next, he felt a bit better. Still light headed, still nauseous, still tired, but not nearly as much as before. He could even sit up - yeah, it made the room spin like he was on a tea cup ride, but...he was able to sit up, so small victory.

He needed to pee. He eyed where the toilet was at his feet and narrowed an eye at it before he grabbed the side of the tub to pull himself up into a sitting position. He then reached forward and groaned lowly as he forced himself toward it. He lost steam and laid his face on the closed toilet lid, breathing heavily before he lifted his gaze to give the back of the toilet a determined glare before he slammed a hand down on the top of the lid to push himself up.

Once he was up on his feet he opened the lid and unzipped his pants, swaying on his feet briefly before he started to relieve himself.

As he peed he slowly lifted his gaze to eye the ceiling and saw it was wallpapered as well. It wasn’t even one type of wallpaper - it seemed to be several. This guy was all sorts of freaky, wasn’t he? When he finished he tucked himself back into his pants but didn't bother zipping them up  - too much work.

He instead started to stumble out of the bathroom, walking toward the open door of Jackson's bedroom. He went straight to Jackson's unmade bed and collapsed face-first onto it, easily relaxing into the mattress.

This very, very uncomfortable mattress.

"What the fuck is this?" He slurred. "Jackson! The fuck is this mattress?!" He demanded, his eyes screwed closed. Silence. He cracked open an eye, listening. Nothing.

He hesitated before he reached out through their connection.

Wes felt the other outside on the balcony, and as soon as he reached out to him, he felt the lock come inside, the doors to the balcony shutting sharply before he heard Jackson walking swiftly to the bedroom.

"You moved." Jackson stated as he came over to bend over Wes, touching his back.

This is an awful, awful bed, Wes thought.

"It came with the apartment," Jackson said quietly. He moved then to sit on the side of the bed next to Wes's hips. "I was told that you shouldn't push any further for a while. Let the bond sit as it is and solidify before we try anything more. It'll be safer that way."

Wes fucked up. He knew he had.

"You didn't. You did very well, actually. Fant

Wes scoffed. Liar.

"I'm not lying. I promise."

Wes cracked open an eye to look to him. How could he tell?

"you can't, not yet anyway...but for now you're just going to have to enjoy the compliment - you did very well."

Wes chuckled quietly at that. He was pretty sure the other man was lying, but he'd take it. He drifted then, but it felt different than before. He could feel Jackson very distinctly when he did, the flimsy little string that had joined them together joined but a hundred more, some of which felt quite strong, like he could pluck on them and make musical notes.

He did just that, plucking at their connection.

It made for a very weird sensation, and strangely, he could feel Jackson shiver.

Wes giggled at that, chuckling then before he focused on a more important matter.

Sleep.

He wanted to sleep.

And he did. 

He dreamt he was in Molehill.

He was twelve, and his socks were soggy, and his skin felt the way it did when it was very cold out. He was stuffing his face with gummy candy and looking around at the roadside. 

"Wes-" Wes looked over to see Yuriy, holding his cup of soda with both hands, wearing his thick winter gloves and puffy winter coat. "you want to see something cool?"

Wes choked briefly on a gummy before he swallowed. "Hell to the yeah, I do!" He said loudly. "Watcha got?"

"Over there," Yuriy said in his whispery, velvet voice, "Look over there." He said, moving his head a little to the left, his gaze focused on Wes and his slightly gaping mouth. "Look who it is."

Wes looked over Yuriy's shoulder to see a man standing on the other side of the road, taking a piss a few feet from his beat-up looking car. 

And sitting on top of the beat-up looking car sat Jackson, watching from his perch at what was unfolding.

Wes frowned at him as the dream seemed to take a long pause. The man was still peeing. Yuriy was looking at him with his long smile stretched across his face.

"When was this?" Jackson asked from his perch.

Wes just stared at him. He looked around before he returned his gaze to Jackson. "Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" Jackson asked back.

Wes looked around again, his gaze finding Yuriy before it went back to Jackson. "This is a bad memory for me." He said, gripping the bag of gummies in his hand tighter. "A very bad memory. I don't want you here."

Jackson looked taken aback. His gaze softened before it moved to take in the surroundings, at Wes, at Yuriy, and then finally to the man taking a piss-

"I don't want you looking around!" Wes shouted angrily to him. Jackson looked too him again. 

Jackson slid off the roof of the car and walked across the dirt road, wordlessly holding out a hand for Wes as he approached him. Wes frowned at him before he looked to Yuriy and his smile that seemed to consume the entire lower part of his face.

He looked back to Jackson as the other man came to stand in front of him, his hand extended. "This is a bad memory for me." He said quietly, his cheeks stinging from the cold.

Jackson reached further toward him, holding his hand just under Wes's face. "Then let me take you away from it." 

Wes's face scrunched up. "That's not what I want." Wes said then, "Reliving this is exactly what I deserve."