Some Things Fall Away (Blue Bloods Fanfiction)

↞ Chapter Thirteen ↠

Season Six, Episode Eight

By the time that Jameson came and got me I had calmed down, and was laying with both boys on the couch, some animated movie playing on the TV. I had changed into sweatpants just barely twenty minutes after arriving, and Linda gave me one of Danny's old sweatshirts when she noticed me shivering.

I didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't from the cold.

Jameson pressed a kiss to the top of my head when he walked in, briefly running his fingers through the top of my hair. He went to talk to Linda, the topic almost surely me. I felt strange trying to listen in, and instead focused on the two boys. They were dozing off, and I muttered that it was time for bed, tapping each of them on their shoulders and watching as they got up with no issue.

I sent them upstairs, muttering about following in a minute after I pulled my shoes on. It took no time at all to walk upstairs and tuck the pair of them in.

They both said goodnight in matching tired voices, and I promised to see them tomorrow for dinner.

Jameson was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, a soft smile on his face as he watched me descend. I took a deep breath, and accepted the hand he offered to me and let him pull me to his side. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, and we both said goodbye to Linda.

Jameson pulled me into a hug the moment the door shut behind us.

"Danny told me about what had happened." Jameson's voice was soft, and I found myself melting into his touch. "Are you okay?"

I leaned back, looking down at him with a shrug. "I could be better."

It wasn't something I felt the need to talk about. Jameson just nodded, and held my hand as we walked towards the car.

I just wanted to sleep at this point, to fall into our shared bed and disappear among the pillows. To sleep a dreamless night and let myself rest in a way that let me be truly peaceful. Jameson opened the car door for me, and I buckled my seat belt without help, my head leaning against the back of the seat and my eyes falling shut.

I held my hand out to Jameson, and he held it tightly the entire drive home, only briefly dropping it when necessary to shift gears. The car drove softly, a benefit of the pair of us fixing it up after what happened so many years ago.

When we arrived at the flat, I was nearly asleep.

Jameson helped me out of the car and into the apartment, and suddenly I bristled.

I felt as though someone was watching me, and when I dropped Jameson's hand he stopped, looking at me with a confused look.

I spun on my heels, my eyes looking across the rest of the block, the night didn't help with my anxiety. The light from the lampposts didn't help with seeing who was there. I wanted to scream, to chase after the figure as their black coat faded into the rest of the world.

"Someone's there."

It was spoken softly, and under any other circumstance I would have run after him. But my mind told me I wasn't safe. Without thinking about it I grab Jameson, my mind in fight or flight mode, hyper-fixating on the flight side of me.

I shoved Jameson through the door, wrapping myself around him and slamming the door shut behind me. He tried to react to the rest of the world, but I wouldn't let him free from my arms.

"He's out there." I tried to breath, to tell myself that realistically he couldn't harm Jameson if he was safe in my arms. I held him tightly, burying my face in his hair and wishing nothing else but that we could disappear.

Jameson was speaking, but I couldn't hear him. The only focus was on my own sanity in the hear and now, my sanity and his safety. He pushed me away delicately, eyes shining with tears, I tried to reach for him to hold him and protect him, but he pressed hands to my cheeks, and for the first time I could hear his words.

"You need to breath babe. Please." His voice cracked, the tears rolling down his cheeks, and only then did I realize how light headed I felt. "I'm going to call the police, and I need you to copy my breathing."

It was then the that it hit me that his tears weren't because of his fear of what was outside, but it was his fear of what was wrong with me. I mimicked his breathing. Deep inhales, steady exhales. It took a while for my head to stop floating, but once it did, Jameson smiles.

And when he smiles I feel comfort.

He is speaking to the police on the other end of the phone, and once he hangs up, he presses a kiss to my forehead.

We are a tangle of limbs and tears in a much to small space in front of the door. I can feel my gun being pressed into my side by his ankle. "I don't want to stay here." It is a strange feeling to think your own home isn't safe.

"We can go to dad's." I was glad to find that Jameson didn't protest. "They've got a unit headed our way, they said to see if the apartment is missing anything."

I didn't want to walk upstairs, but I didn't want to protest.

Jameson was able to de-tangle himself faster than I was, and once he stood he helped me to my feet. I followed up the stairs, hand in hand and letting him practically pull me up.

My fear was that I would open the door to see the apartment in shambles, and I would say easily that I was surprise to find it pristine.