"Detroit is now fully occupied by Null Sector and Talon. It's going to take a lot of us to get them out of here."

He pauses for a moment, before saying softly, "that doesn't explain what happened to you."

"I was out for supplies. Managed to sneak past most of the guards stationed by a pharmacy and grabbed what we needed for you. I'm not sure how long I can keep your wound from getting infected. I knew I needed some way to contact Overwatch, so, I snuck into the building they've stationed their operations in, and managed to contact Overwatch. Somebody should be here within the next day or two." Not a total lie, though you conveniently left out the part that contacting Overwatch wasn't exactly the thing on your mind when you snuck in.

"The next day or two? When did you get shot?"

"On the way back. I'm just lucky that I wasn't followed."

"Let me take a look." He moves your hand again, and with your help, moves your shirt out of the way so he can see the wound. He grabs a flashlight and turns it on so he can see. The interior of the van is now nearly pitch black as the sun has set. He takes his bionic hand and presses it up against your flesh, and after inspecting it for a moment, swears loudly.

His tone changes on a dime. "Lay down." He commands. You see his body language change too, he stiffens. You do as he says. He shifts to rifle through your backpack of supplies, and see him pull out the emergency kit that you managed to steal from the pharmacy.

"No- don't use that, it's for you." You say weakly. Every breath is beginning to become a challenge. He doesn't respond. The pain finally begins to catch up with you, and you take measured breaths in order to keep yourself from crying. You feel his hand on yours. He squeezes your hand once, before moving to work again.

He grabs something from his own bag. "I was saving this for our success," he says, "but it'll help. Drink up." You don't even know what he was talking about until the liquid slides down your throat. It's alcohol. It burns, and you sputter a bit.

"This'll seem inappropriate, but I'm gonna need you to take your shirt off." You pause for a moment. You move to do so, ignoring the awkward request, before a flash of pain shoots up your body. You stifle a scream. Jesse sits you up, and you feel his hands brush your bare flesh as he tugs your shirt off for you.

"Yep. S**t." He says vaguely after inspecting the wound again.

"What?" You ask.

"I'll tell you later. You just have to promise me not to freak out right now." He lays you back down, and rolls up your shirt, hands it to you, and says, "you'll probably want to bite down on that."

"What about painkiller?"

"Why'd you think I gave you booze? We're out. This isn't going to be pretty."

(Mild gore warning)

You just squeeze your eyes shut. You don't want to watch any part of this process. What follows is what feels like an eternity of white-hot, blinding pain. You're not sure what's going on. Every once and awhile, Jesse stops, shushes you, and takes your hand. You realize that you've been screaming as he does this. You squeeze his hand, sure that you might break his hand in the process.

Soon enough, the alcohol begins to numb some of the pain, but it doesn't do much. Hot tears roll down your cheek. You wonder how you have the capacity to shed that many tears, as you've barely had water over the past week. It provides brief respite from the pain, before you focus again, on the shooting pain coming from the right side of your chest.

You think it's over, as Jesse moves to get something, but then you notice something. The pain not only comes from one place... but two. As you glance around, you see a few blood-covered bullet fragments laying on a scrap piece of fabric. Your heart sinks. Jesse turns back to find you staring at the bullet fragments. He gives you a strained smile.

"I'm gonna need you to lie back down, darling. I'm going to try to get what I can out of the second one now."

"What's left in the first?" You ask. Silence is your answer.

You close your eyes again as the pain flashes up. It's nearly unbearable this time, as the alcohol has began to wear off. You feel something particularly sharp, and hear a scream leave your lips as your vision drops and you are left in darkness.

(Gore over :))

__________________

You wake up as the sun begins to set. Your eyes flutter open, and you glance down to find that you've been bandaged up, and your jacket lies on top of your torso, along with a tarp left in the van that is functioning as a blanket. Your bloody tank top acts as a pillow. Ever the gentleman. As you begin to sit up, you hear the tail end of a conversation happening right outside of the van. Jesse is nowhere to be found. You hear his voice.

"It's bad Ange. It's not just her- mine's starting to get infected too. Her breathing's pretty ragged. She's got two bullet wounds, Ange. I couldn't fully clean them, so I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. She's lost a lot of blood. I... I don't know what to do. There's bound to be some internal bleeding. I think some fragments punctured something... I don't think she'll last the night."

You hear Angela's faint voice as your heart begins to sink. "Jesse, you know what this means."

"I know, Ange."

"You have to stay right there. You don't sleep. You don't use the resources. You keep her alive. You're an honorary doctor now, and she comes before you in every regard. Let her sleep for a bit, and then get her to the west side of the city, we've received word that there's a spot we can grab you from."

"The western side? Ange, that'll take the majority of a day, maybe more."

"I know, but it's the best you can do. Get her comfortable, let her sleep for two hours or so, keep watch. I'll send you the coordinates once you're sure she's asleep. Then you two have to get moving."

There's silence for a moment, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for anyone to talk.

"Jesse-" Angela continues, "you have to get her home, no matter the state she's in. We owe it to her family."

Your heart sinks further. You know full well what she means. You close your eyes as you hear Jesse enter the van. You hear the door shut, and feel his eyes on you. You pretend to stir awake, and you hear him scoot over toward you. He takes your hand.

"Hey, how are you doing?" He says softly.

"I'm okay. I mean, relatively."

"I have good news, and bad news, but they're kinda intertwined so I can't ask which one you want first."

You chuckle slightly, which hurts a lot. You clutch your side. "Ow." You whisper.

Jesse smiles wearily. "I managed to contact Overwatch with that radio you got us, and they'll be here around midnight."

"That's great, where?" you say, as if you didn't already know.

"The west side of the city. Ange hasn't given me the exact location yet, but it's going to be a hike."

"Well, we'd better get moving then." You try to sit, up, and pain immediately explodes up your side. You squeeze your eyes shut, and try not to verbalize the pain, but you feel Jesse's hand squeeze yours.

"Lie back down. You should get some more rest. Take some more of this." He gives you the rest of the liquor.

You see him move away as you begin to slip into darkness. You didn't notice how tired you were. "Wait," you say quietly, "don't go." You reach out weakly toward him as your vision blurs slightly. You swear you see him smile sadly.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He sits next to you. You pat next to where you're laying down. "Stay," you whisper. You feel him slide next to you, and pull the tarp over his body. You rest your head on his chest, trying to avoid the bullet wound that he also suffered. If it hurts, he doesn't complain. You just feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and his arm around you as you slip once more into darkness.

____________________

You feel Jesse stir you awake what feels like just moments later.

"Hey, it's time to get going." Your eyes flutter open, and you see that he hasn't moved. You're still lying on his chest.

"Yes sir." You say through a yawn. Jesse sits up and starts packing your bag. You see that his back is already packed and by the door.

"Can you sit up?" He asks, turning back toward you.

"Only one way to find out," you say, trying to grin. You attempt to sit up, and immediately feel the color drain from your face.

"Woah there," Jesse says, immediately moving toward you and holding you for support. "Breathe through it. Deep breaths."

You do as he instructs, trying to breath though the pain that is now shooting up your side. You suppress the tears slowly filling your eyes as you get up to your knees.

"We gotta get there, I'm sorry." Jesse says, putting on his backpack and holding yours.

"I know. Here, give me my backpack. I got it." You say, lying through your teeth.

"After everything we've been though, you're still stubborn as hell." Jesse says with a chuckle. "I'll give it to you once we're on the street, how bout' that?"

You nod. His eyes look sad despite the good-natured grin on his face. He slides open the door to the van, and helps you out. It hurts, certainly not worse than yesterday, but still enough to make you nearly pass out.

You push down whatever pain you feel and force yourself to take step after step. Jesse loops his arm around your waist, steadying you. You mumble your thanks, trying to will your body to function.

"I've got you." He says quietly as you exit into the streets.

There's no patrols this early in the morning, long before the sun is up. Not in this part of town, at least.

"Backpack." You say through your teeth, trying to focus on staying upright.

"No." Is all Jesse says. He helps you down the street.

You eventually come to streets that grow more crowded, and you begin to see more patrols form. Your stomach knots. They'll recognize both of you.

"Alley," you whisper harshly. Jesse steers the both of you toward an alley. You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

"How are you doing?" Jesse whispers when the patrol passes.

"Fine." You say, the color still drained from your face.

"We just have to turn here, and then it's straightaway. Come on, I've got you." Jesse says, looping his arm around your waist again, helping you stay on your feet.

You stay in this routine for the next few hours. It gets to the point where every step is straining, and Jesse is constantly mumbling support. You have to duck in and out if alleyways to hide from patrols, and you keep your eyes out for a taxi, but notice that they're now being driven by Talon personnel. You manage to weave through crowds and down busy streets, blending in the masses when you can.

At noon, he finally lets you sit. You're in the middle of a small park, and after hours of strained walking, it's a welcome change.

Jesse sits close to you and scans the area for danger. After he seems satisfied, he wordlessly takes your hand.

"We've got a couple of hours left now."

"How many is 'a couple'?"

He smiles sadly, "it doesn't matter. Knowing won't help. Luckily, it's just straightaway."

You bite your tongue, knowing that saying something snarky right now would not help. Jesse seems to recognize your expression, and smiles warmly.

"What?" You say, turning toward him.

He chuckles, "I've never seen you hold your tongue before."

"Haha." You say dryly. "I guess we should get going."

With the hours that come, the pain that was once white hot flashes becomes a duller, yet constant throb. Walking becomes easier throughout the hours. As you make your way through more residential areas, the patrols are lighter, and easier to avoid.

You have conversations to fill the time and keep you distracted. Soon the day begins to cool. Your legs are sore from walking from dawn until dusk, and you nearly collapse as you reach your final mile.

"Woah there," Jesse grabs you, kneeling to support you.

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright. You're in zero condition to walk a mile, much less for the entire day. Here." He scoops you off your feet.

"Jesse, this will look weird."

"I'd rather carry you awake than passed out. We just won't get spotted. I'll make sure of it."

After many minutes of grumbling, you rest your head on his chest, and just allow him to carry you.

As the sun sinks beneath the horizon, you come to an elevated and empty courtyard area. It looks like a sort of abandoned park square. Jesse sets you up in a shadowed corner, far from any street lamp, and tells you to wait. You lean up against the wall, stifling a grunt of pain as you readjust.

"Oh, and here's this for good measure," he says, and hands you your pistol, loaded.

"Thanks, Cowboy."

"Always." He winks at you. You roll your eyes, grinning despite the throbbing pain in your side. It's been hours since you've sat for more than ten minutes at a time, so you take comfort in your small, cold corner that you're propped up against for nearly twenty minutes. Jesse paces restlessly in front of you, and you see him pause every few minutes and clutch his side. You're about to tell him to come sit down before you hear several sets of footsteps ascending the stairs toward you.

Jesse rushes to your side and presses himself up against the wall. You both stay silent as the Talon patrol marches up onto the raised courtyard. Neither of you really breathe for what feels like half an hour, but could only be five minutes as the Talon patrol passes. You soon hear the footsteps recede- and right on time. You see a large aircraft begin to descend. A grin lights Jesse's face.

He pulls you up to your feet, and you both hobble toward the courtyard. When the ship is fifteen feet off of the ground, you hear rapid gunfire and the pinging of bullets bouncing off metal. The ship is being peppered with bullet holes as the Talon patrol makes their way back to the courtyard.

You both return fire as the ship lands. "Hurry!" Angela calls from the ship. Jesse grabs you around the waist and helps you walk while you both return fire at the Talon agents. If any of them hit, you didn't notice, as your focus at the moment is just trained on getting onto that ship.

Jesse hoists onto the lowering walkway of the ship. He covers for you while Angela helps you up. He pulls himself up, and then you feel explosive pain in your shoulder. You've been shot. Again. Yay. You nearly collapse, but Jesse catches you, and picks you up.

"I've got you, darlin'." He whispers, seeming more like reassurance for himself than you, and you try your best to cling to conscienceless as the ship door closes.

They prop you up in a chair, and you see Angela, Hunter, Madison, Ginger, and Lena across from you. They all spring into action. Angela taps a few buttons and a small bed made of hard light forms in the center. Your vision is getting blurry. You've lost so much blood and haven't had proper rest.

You see Ginger sit Jesse down. He lifts up his shirt to show her the gunshot wound, then says something. Ginger looks over her shoulder and smiles at you. You make eye contact with Jesse. You try to grin though the pain. Just as you feel as if you're about to scream from a flash of white hot pain, you feel Angela's hand on your shoulder.

"You did some good work, (Y/N). Let's get you patched up, okay?"

You nod, trying to keep a grasp on reality. You blink and the next thing you know, you're being carried onto the table. When they let you, you feel a hand take yours. It squeezes yours once. You squeeze back.

"...sleep for a bit, okay?" Is all you hear from Angela before something is fitted over your face, and you slip into darkness.

_________________

You wake up in the same position you fell asleep in. As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you notice is the change of scenery. You're in the same room you started your journey in, but something is different. You feel someone's hand in yours. You look over to see Jesse, sitting there, just watching your movements, your breathing, and as you roll your head over to face him, you feel all of the weight leave the room.

A grin of relief washes over his face, and he calls behind him, "She's awake!" then kneels by your side.

"How are you feeling?" He asks in a low tone, his concern seeping out of his words.

"I'm fine, I'm just sore." You say with a small smile on your face, "but I am pretty tuckered out."

"I can imagine." He says, not letting go of your hand.

"How are you doing?" You ask. "How's yours doing?" You point towards his shoulder.

"Fine, fine. Once Ange got a hold of me I was good as new. She said you did good with keepin' the infection away."

"I'm glad." You say softly. You stare into his eyes, which are beginning to glisten.

"(Y/N), I honestly don't know what I would've done if I had lost you... I just don't know."

"You would have moved on." You place your hand on his, "but it wouldn't be the same. You'd hear me when I wasn't there, you'd go months without thinking about it, and then all of a sudden it would hit you like a ton of bricks. But you would've found something to be happy about in time." You pause for a moment before saying quietly, "But it wouldn't have been the same."

All of a sudden, you feel his lips on your cheek. A single tear of his slides down his face and hits yours.

"I know." He says, when he pulls away. He begins to stand, to go, but there's a part of you that needs him to stay.

"They always say you had good aim, but I guess they were wrong." You say, as he begins to stand.

"What?" He says softly, confused.

(Mild romance warning until the end of the chapter)

"You missed." You grab his neck and pull him closer to you, and then kiss him. He freezes for a moment, as if this startled him, but then he kneels down again to be on your level. You feel his lips leave your mouth and travel across your face and to your neck, where he plants kisses up and down. He makes his way up again, and this time, when he kisses your lips, it's more passionate.

You probably look ridiculous, smiling the way that you are, but you part your lips and kiss him back. His hand runs through your hair, and the other rests on the small of your back, pressing you closer. He's holding you to him like if he let go you would cease to exist. But you stay this way for what feels simultaneously like a a brief moment and an eternity.

When he breaks the kiss, and runs his thumb along your cheek, tracing the thin scar left by Martin, you laugh.

"What?" He says, a smile playing at his lips.

"I don't know if I've ever kissed anyone like that." You say.

He chuckles, "well, there's a first time for everything, huh?"

"I guess." He grabs your hand and squeezes it. "Well, Morrison told me to report to him when you woke up. I was supposed to go help with the situation in Detroit, but I couldn't bring myself to leave you. Not again."

"Alright." You nod. He grabs his stuff and heads toward the door, but turns around and pecks you on the lips. "One for the road." He says. He's nearly out the door when you say, "Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't die."

"How could I? I have a lot to come back for." He smiles, and then softly closes