Everything he had hurt. Dem stretched and instantly became aware of the body behind him. Joker came home. He opened his eyes to see the tiny ball of fur on the pillow next to him. Killer’s little face partially hidden by the folds of the pillowcase. She wasn’t wearing her usual hoodie or t-shirt. He didn’t reach up to pet her in case she hadn’t fallen asleep long ago.

He shifted his aching body and hated the twinges in his hips. He hadn’t done his stretches the way he was supposed to and worked every hour Heidi would let him. Working made the hours pass quicker, but not fast enough. He sighed as he looked at Jackson, the man hugged himself, and his eyes were wet. His lips moved in his sleep, but nothing came out. His cries were silent.

How many years had Jackson comforted himself through nightmares? He was pissed at Jackson, but he partially understood. He tugged the lightweight blanket over Jackson, and the man’s skin was cool and clammy where it brushed his forearm.

The worst part of Jackson’s time away was Dem found the box of journals, a bright orange evidence seal broken on an old cardboard box. His curiosity took over, and he’d looked inside, stacks of pictures that showed the crime scene and an emaciated Jackson. His body riddled with fresh scars, wounds oozed with infection, and hands and face covered in blood. He’d read every piece of paper inside. Evidence that only stated Jackson was a danger to society, recommendations for life in prison, and not one said anything about the hell a sixteen-year-old kid went through.

They hadn’t taken into account the sadistic torture Jackson endured and survived countless times over his short life. No, they only cared about the fights he’d gotten into and the reports of underage drinking and drugs.

He tentatively raised his hand and placed it on Jackson’s cheek, then he closed the inches that separated them. He kissed the salt-tinged flavor of his lips. Jackson had been so close to not being there. Jackson could’ve succumbed to any of the acts done to him, but he hadn’t—he survived it all.

The journals were just as bad, she’d outlined every day of her life for almost nine years. Garnet did the same things he had done to Jackson, the whippings, the beatings, but she’d been subjected to repeated rapes. It had killed him to read it, and he wondered how Mary and Jackson had lived. He couldn’t even imagine.

He opened his eyes that had fallen closed as he’d kissed Jackson and found Jackson watching him. Jackson’s eyes were filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson’s voice trembled.

“It’s okay, we’ll deal with it later, all that matters is you’re home now.”

“I made you cry before I left. I hurt you.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’d realized something after Jackson left. When Jackson looked at himself, he saw Garnet. The pictures in the file of Garnet showed them to be nearly identical. To have to look in the mirror and see a mirror image of your abuser every day had to be torture in itself. Jackson didn’t possess any healthy examples of sex.

“I took you raw without anything between us, I—”

“Jackson, things got a little out of hand, and we both lost our minds for a minute, but I enjoyed every minute of us together.”

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“What did I tell you? This was us, you and me, no one else in bed with us not even a memory. You’re not him, Jackson. Maybe next time we can do it all gentle.”

“You still want to be with me?”

“I’m not exactly happy with you for leaving without a word and staying away so long, but it happened. It’s in the past, we work from this moment forward.”

Jackson gave a jerky nod.

“Why weren’t you under the covers?”

“I didn’t know if it would be okay to touch you.”

“It’s always okay for you to touch me, especially when we’re in bed.”

He shifted away as Jackson rolled and wiggled until Jackson was under the covers. He couldn’t help when he moaned and pushed closer when Jackson’s hairy skin touched his. Damn, he’d forgotten how good and right Jackson felt being that close to him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since about four days after you disappeared. Your office was a disaster. Did you know you had almost a year of paperwork that hadn’t been entered into your accounting program?”

“Is that all?”

“Don’t tell me there’s more.”

“I just thought there was more.”

“How do you handle your accounting and taxes and all that?”

“My accountant hates me.”

“I don’t blame him. I started to hate you too, and I only spent a week in your office.”

Jackson placed his arm over him and splayed his calloused hand between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t you have to be at work,” Jackson asked against the side of his throat.

“No, Heidi has barred me from working for the next few days. I wouldn’t take my days off, and my body is paying for it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“All the surgeries I’ve had over the years to repair the malformations of my hips and pelvis have taken their toll. I have arthritis, and I’m more metal than bone.”

“What happened?”

“They don’t know, just didn’t form right. No cause, mom was healthy, no history of deformities in either family. Just one of those things. The last surgery was when I’d stopped growing to put in permanent pins and plates. Don’t treat me different, okay?”

“Why would I treat you different?”

“Because my body isn’t—”

“Your body is gorgeous.”

“My legs are losing more muscle the less I’m able to stand on them.”

“Lay back.”

He didn’t ask questions just rolled to his back and watched as Jackson got up, then straddled his calves. The covers disappeared and strong, yet surprisingly gentle hands spread out over his pelvis. He bit his lip as Jackson began to massage his pelvis, hips, and down his thighs, then repeated. It was heaven and hell, perfect, just the right amount of pressure. He couldn’t keep his body from reacting to Jackson’s hands on him. It seemed like forever, but it had only been three weeks.

He didn’t call attention to it. He knew things hadn’t gone well last time, and they needed to take their time.

“The idea of sex always felt wrong,” Jackson spoke but didn’t stop with the massage.

“What was wrong about it?”

“I read the journals, knew what he’d done, but I also remember the women he’d bring home and the way they screamed. I knew I was gay early, but also if Garnet ever found out, I’d be dead. I looked at a boy once when I was a kid, he was about my age…he was pretty, and I didn’t understand it then but a little feminine. Garnet caught me. He used my groin for a fucking ashtray. I didn’t know about anything sex positive, but—”

“But what?”

“You can’t be around the crews and not walk in on something, the partners always seem—”

“Turned on, enjoying themselves?”

“Yeah, those. Did Ghost ever tell you I went after him when I heard Harper scream one time?”

“No, but I bet that was awkward.”

“She was embarrassed and wouldn’t look at me, but I thought—”

“You thought your friend was hurting her? Were you having a flashback?”

Jackson sat back and raised his hands to scrub over his face. “Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re worth me being here. Just don’t pull the disappearing bullshit again. Peaches is also way more pissed than I am.”

“Shit, was she here?”

“Yep, came by to discuss something with you when I told her you were missing for more than a week. For a sweet looking lady despite the tattoos, she has one helluva mouth on her.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re terrified of Peaches?”

“Damn right, she has friends in very low places, ones that make me look like a sweetheart. She worked as a public defender and a defense attorney for a long time. Peaches didn’t survive with her client list without being tough.”

He smiled as Jackson fell to the side and stared up at the ceiling. Jackson’s hands scrubbed over his face.

“So, we’re safe in assuming, you’re fucked right now?”

“So fucked. And everyone will know I’m home because my asshole friends are gossips.”

“Want me to go make coffee?”

“No.” Jackson rolled over and laid his arm over him. “Stay. I’m safe until at least noon.”

He placed his arm over Jackson’s and laced their fingers together.

“Tell me about your trip.”

Jackson did, and he laid there listening, shaking his head. Jackson needed a keeper, and it was a good thing he was up to the task.