“Cargo!” He jerked  forward shaken by the familiar voice. His eyes water and he pants blinking off the haze of dreams. The man opposite of him holds a hand around his wrist keeping him back from slicing open his throat. Any slower and Cargo would have killed him.

Oh god.

“James.” He drops the knife incoherent. “James, please. . .”

The blond surges forward and wraps Cargo up in his arms.

“What is it, I’m-” James began, brushing Cargo’s hair out of his eyes.

“Count with me.” Cargo babbles sounding half mad even to himself. Darkness quivers out the corner of his eyes growing teeth. James places a soft kiss to his shoulder and gently rubs the abrasions on Cargos wrists. He stares at the fingers of his hand trying to make sense of them. Even his dreams were out to get him. Cargo felt light, unearthly.

“One.” He breathes and James sounds off after him. Eventually, the man simply covered Cargo’s smaller shaking hands with his own. Under James careful touch his shudders lost their tension.

“I have feathers for lungs,” Cargo mutters surprised he doesn’t just float away.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” James rocks him, an anchor in the storm. Slowly the rise and fall of his chest eased. He counts the beats of his heart, simultaneously keeping one eye on the knife where it lay discarded on the bed spread. He can’t be sure that any of this is real.

 Throat tightening around the words he dare not say and body heavy he sinks into James hold. He squeezes James hand and the blond squeezes back. The silver blade mocks him till Cargo looks away. Guilt washed over him, there are bloody tissues flushed down the toilet and fresh cleaner sprayed in the sink the things he doesn’t say anymore are piling up and he trembles.

“Hey.” James addresses him a hand gently turning his face till their eyes meet. The blond ran a soothing hand over his back.

What would he be without this man's support? More, he'd be more the ugly part of him whispered. The bit that had after everything never left. That voice wasn't right, couldn't be right.

They'd been by each other's side since that fateful day. Neither daring to leave the other ever again. When he felt less than his best it was James who murmured reassuring things and was waiting to place a mug of tea in his hands. His hands that had dripped crimson more and more as of late.

“I see you.” James reminds him, brown eyes meeting his own. It takes all Cargos will power not to yank his hand from his grip.

“Peek-a-boo.” Cargo laughs high and strained. The noise continues ringing in his ears, in the background The City crumbles. How easy would it be to end it all now?

“James.” Cargo says and worlds would have ceased to turn from the meaning in his voice.

“Yes.” The other man shifts pressing a kiss to his hair, mindful of his distress and hands him his glasses.

Cargo settles the frames on his face. “Let’s finish this game.”