Rescue Me

Alex started having panic attacks.

He didn't really know why. Just out of the blue one day after a restless nightmare-filled sleep, he got this flashback. He saw Jess get taken all over again, except this time he could see the man's face. See Jack dragging her away. Alex stumbled to the floor, gasping for breath like he'd just sprinted the length of America, and puked on the carpet.

He cleaned it up before his parents came home and doused the general area in Febreze. Alex decided he just wouldn't say anything. Maybe it was a one-off. He was really tired, after all.

It wasn't long before Jack found out though. Alex was over at his place, watching TV. He got up to get a drink from the kitchen. Nothing set him off, nothing at all. It just happened. Jack came running through at the sound of glass breaking and found Alex crouched on the floor beside the fridge with juice and shards all around around him, dry-heaving into his hands. It was mixed with loud, raspy cries but no tears would come. The sound stuck with Jack for days. Kept him up at night. It felt like something was eating him inside, scratching to get out. It would claw on the inside of his ears when everything was quiet so Jack tried to make sure he had his iPod or the television on at all times if he had to be alone.

Despite Alex's nightmares and occasional panic attacks, he still did his best to cater to Jack's every need. Jack's own flashbacks happened from time to time and Alex was always by his side, helping. Jack hated that he couldn't return the favour. If they weren't sleeping in the same bed, Alex wouldn't call Jack up to tell him he'd had a nightmare. He kept it to himself and tried to calm down before his mother could wake at the sound of his crying. He didn't tell Jack about his panic attacks either. Unless he had one in Jack's presence, which wasn't often, then he never told him. And Jack knew Alex wasn't telling him, because he'd known the boy since they were children and it was just what Alex was like. Trying to protect Jack from feeling any guiltier. It didn't help. If anything, it made Jack feel like a failure. He wasn't allowed to comfort his boyfriend. It was his fault Alex was suffering in the first place, and he couldn't even make it better.

The scratching in his head got worse.

/////

If Jack were ever told to write down exactly what he was feeling that day, the exact thoughts that drove him to thinking it would be the best decision, he would never be able to do it.

Not because it hurt; not aching, not burning, or stinging.

He just couldn't. It blurred. His mind had been constantly misted over with guilt and anxiety. Nothing was clear. Sometimes the thoughts would all merge and though none made sense, Jack wouldn't be able to breathe.

There were no words for it. There would never be any words.

There was no special and shocking way to twist the events into something more tragic, maybe beautiful, possibly heroic.

He wanted to bleed to death on the bathroom floor, and Alex found him before he could.

He had sobbed upon seeing it, yet somehow felt less than surprised. Alex wouldn't have dreamed Jack would ever do this, but he had felt like the things they weren't voicing had been building to something for some time.

This was the outcome.

Alex cried, pushing the scissors away and crouching over Jack's limp body, pressing his palm hard against a bleeding wrist. It felt gruesome under his touch and he retched at first, burying his nose in Jack's hair and pretending he couldn't taste the blood in the air.

He screamed for Jack's mother to come, for anyone to come. Any help they could offer, he'd take it.

There were no words for why Jack had a gash in his arm, and there never would be, but Alex didn't need words to understand.

/////

Weeks after returning home from hospital the first time around, they were back.

This time Alex sat at Jack's bedside, stroking the bandage on his arm and holding his head against his chest whenever Jack woke with a start, looking panicked and exhausted.

While Jack was in there, the nightmares went away; Alex was already living one.

/////

Jack came home after a month. Within that month, Alex had managed to get himself an apartment. It was tiny, and only a fifteen-minute walk from his parents' house, but it was an apartment, a place to call his own. He figured it would be good. Maybe getting some independence would help, somehow. Jack was kind of relieved, because it meant he could spend a lot of time hiding out there rather than at home with his mother flapping around him all the time. She had been beyond hysterical at the very idea of Jack trying to kill himself. An understandable state, but Jack felt smothered.

She and Jack's father were both reluctant about letting him have as much freedom as being allowed to go to Alex's apartment all the time, but Jack insisted it was good for him. He could get fresh air if he walked over and Alex was his boyfriend, someone that made him happy. So they allowed it, but kept a close eye on him. Joyce texted Jack every hour on the hour every time he wasn't home, and if he didn't reply within two minutes, she'd call. It was tough to take, but Jack knew she was only worried about him. He couldn't bring himself to feel too guilty about what he'd caused with this though. It was like the guilt had already eaten him all up and had nothing left to take from him.

Alex felt better. He felt like he could breathe. Jack was trying; he looked better every day too. Still a little worn out, but better.

Alex's nightmares and panic attacks grew less frequent over the course of another month. They were still there, still happened, still sprung up and surprised him from time to time, but he could handle that.

He could handle that just fine.

/////

Sometimes Jack didn't go to Alex's.

He told his parents he'd be there, and told Alex he'd be staying at home, and then he'd set out with all the time in the world to be by himself.

It wasn't anything personal. He loved Alex with all his heart, and he of course loved his own parents, but there was never any time to just be left alone. Joyce and Bassam were constantly around him at home, checking in on him if he shut himself in his room. Joyce went as far as opening the door on the way past without even looking in. Just opening it. Like a precautionary measure. Jack tried to be understanding about why she did it, but it was getting frustrating to the point of anger. And after everything, he didn't want to yell at his mother. The guilt settled thick in his throat some days just to remind him that this was all his fault.

Whilst there was a lot more freedom when at Alex's place, it was a really small apartment. It wasn't like there was any room to be apart. Even if they were doing separate activities -- Alex on his laptop reading about black holes, Jack flicking through a book -- those activities still had to be done in the same space. Even if Jack sat in the bedroom with the door shut and Alex sat on the couch, he could practically hear him breathing. The walls were about as thick as a single hair.

Jack, for once, did not feel guilty about lying to some of the most important people in his life and breaking rules on where he was allowed to go. It was just a bit of freedom. It would be good for him. He had refused the therapy offered by the hospital, despite insistence from both his parents and Alex. The idea of therapy terrified him; they were professionals. What if they saw through his lies? What if he accidentally let slip the real reason he'd tried to commit suicide, that he hadn't 'just felt sad for a while'? Then he'd really fuck up. Everyone he loved would be in danger.

The thought made him shudder. No. His recovery time in the hospital had been enough -- he'd went through a little bit of group therapy and one-on-one for coping during the month he was there. That would be enough. It would be okay. Just the right amount, nothing too scary or in-depth.

The walks helped. Fresh air, content in his own company. A drink here and there, perhaps. He was coping. He could cope like this.

Even Alex commented on how much more cheerful he looked after a couple of weeks of taking his secret walks.

There, Jack was right.

It was working.

/////

"Saw him back at work at that restaurant the other day. He's been gone a while."

"Yeah? Interesting..."

"I thought maybe he'd been keeping a low profile."

"Hm, perhaps. Either way, that's why I asked you to keep an eye on him. Just in case," Jeremy flashed Chris a grin.

Chris chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Jack might have been let off the hook, but that didn't mean Jeremy didn't want to make sure he kept his word. "Right."

"I saw him out walking the other day, and the day before. Usually in the evening. I don't follow him too far, so I don't know where he goes, but he hasn't been looking so good lately," Taylor spoke up, picking at his sleeve. "He was off the radar for a while but he seems to be getting out again."

"Any idea where he went?" Jeremy leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk.

"No clue."

"Hm. Right. Well. If he's not looking so good, that gives me some concern."

"Why? You think he'd rat us out?" Chris frowned, trying to hide his alarm.

"He paid us a lot to leave him alone, why would he?" Taylor looked up at Chris incredulously.

"Guilt," Jeremy shrugged, checking his fingernails. "He's a soft-ass bitch. Easy to manipulate, but he wanted out and I wanted money... I figured I could just scare him into keeping quiet."

"Yes, and that's what you did," Taylor sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's done. He's done. He's useless to us now, why are we wasting time checking up on him? If he hasn't went crying to the damn police then he won't. If you're so scared then we'll just... I don't know, go someplace else."

"Ah-ah, I wouldn't be so sure," Jeremy shook his head. "Guilt eats at you slowly. It takes its time; torturous, it is."

"So... you don't trust Jack not to keep his mouth shut?" Chris clarified the situation slowly.

Jeremy smiled at Chris in confirmation, sitting back and crossing his arms behind his head.

"That's right, boys. We're going to pay our friend Jack a little visit."