"Hey-hey-hey, it's alright!" It wasn't alright. It wasn't alright at all. Gavin whined softly, twitching and shuddering at the raw pain in his side. He felt sick. His whole body ached. A cool cloth dabbed his forehead, wiping away the sweat that lingered. He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd been stabbed, but he knew he'd slept a lot. He'd passed out as soon as Jack started working on stitching him up. You wouldn't think it from the movies, but being stitched hurt like a bitch. He could take it in his shoulder, but in his gut after all that poking and stretching? No way. He didn't even last the first push of the needle.

Since then he'd been on bedrest, though he'd been able to get up to use the bathroom and clean up a little. Jack was responsible for the wound itself, and it had mostly been plain sailing. A minor infection had set in and been medicated, but not before a fever took hold. He'd probably been sleeping all day, still haunted by crawling touches on his skin and searching fingers in his side. When he woke, Jack was there to soothe him. Long fingers stroked through his hair. Fingers that didn't feel right. He couldn't shake it off. They were soothing and gentle, and the contact was nice, but it didn't feel right.

He was stuck between feeling too cold and too hot. He knew his skin was flushed and clammy, bringing with it a high temperature that Jack was keeping at bay with cold towels and medication. Despite knowing his body was hot, and feeling the heat sear his skin, Gavin couldn't stop shivering. His teeth chattered as ice trickled through his chest, rippling beneath the heat. The duvet felt too thick and heavy, and he wanted to kick it off, but he felt too cold and shivery to be without it. An icy cold seeped through him every time he moved, making him lie still on his back, swaddled beneath the duvet in damp pyjamas.

"Sit up, Gav...You need to eat something." That sounded like a terrible idea. He whined in protest as insistent hands pulled him higher and pillows were propped behind his back. The wound in his gut ached, almost bringing tears to his eyes as he did his best not to pull the stitches. The room was a little hazy, and even Jack was out of focus as he patted his cheek to wake him up a little more. Gavin roused himself, blinking and squinting at Jack where he sat on the edge of the bed with a bowl of what smelled like chicken broth. "You can lie down after, alright?" That sounded good.

There was a slight scrape that made him wince as the spoon touched the bowl. Everything sounded so much louder than usual, despite the fog in his head. Jack shuffled closer, holding the burning bowl in one hand and the spoon in the other. Conscious of how hot the soup was, Jack paused to blow on the hot liquid before moving it closer to Gavin's trembling lips. Gavin obeyed his gentle request to open his mouth and slowly closed his lips around the spoon. Jack praised him softly as he pulled out to get another ready. It was good soup. A light broth with chunks of real chicken and soft vegetables. It was easy to eat and would help him rehydrate.

Gavin had shown little appetite over the past few days, barely even rousing to drink water. If not for his constant scans and the fact he'd been medicated, Jack would think he was getting worse. He wasn't. Quite the opposite in fact. Though lethargic, Gavin was more awake than the day before, and his temperature had already started to fall. After the first few bites, Gavin's stomach seemed to settle. He started opening his mouth wider, anticipating the next hot spoonful, and his eyes brightened slightly. The fog in his head didn't really clear, but the clouds thinned enough that he could focus on Jack and the spoon.

"That's it, Gav. You're doing so well," Jack praised as he took yet another spoonful. Gavin hummed softly, savouring the rich taste on his tongue. It was a really tasty broth, though that could also be because he hadn't eaten properly for a day or two, so he was fucking starving. He was almost disappointed when he reached the end of the bowl. "Here, have some water before you sleep." That sounded like a good idea. There was a straw in the glass, making it a little easier to drink. Jack held the glass steady as he drank, quietly encouraging him until the glass was empty.

Feeling full, Gavin shuffled low in the bed again, and fell into a light slumber that seemed to be interrupted moments later by the covers being pulled off. He groaned softly, not ready to be poked and prodded again. The buttons of his damp shirt were pulled one by one until it could be thrown open. Jack was apologetic at least, murmuring about how it wouldn't take long and he'd be as gentle as possible. Gavin flinched and whimpered as the medical tape was peeled away, revealing the neatly stitched flesh. It was puffy and swollen, but not weeping. The antiseptic cream had done its job, chasing away the infection.

Jack poured fresh alcohol on a cotton pad and started wiping the area. The healing process had started, but the flesh was still open and raw, making the skin sear and sting as he wiped. Gavin hissed and flinched, trying not to squirm as the pad left a trail of fire on his skin. Jack winced sympathetically, apologising again as he continued to clean. He had to be sure he was thorough to prevent reinfection. When he was done, he swapped to the cream, which was cooler, but still hurt like a bitch. Fresh gauze was pressed over the stitching and taped in place, keeping the wound clean and safe.

"Good job, Gav." The words were so familiar. Shared after multiple closed cases and successful interrogations. It made Gavin smile and pine for earlier days. The days before this waking nightmare. It was almost like Jack sensed his feelings as he sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand. "You're doing a lot better...I think we might continue in a day or two." Continue? Continue what? Dread swelled in the pit of his stomach. Were they going to make him play another of their sick games? Was he going to have to fight again? He wouldn't be up to that in a few days. It would take months for the wound in his side to heal. He'd be at a severe disadvantage in a fight until then. "He's really happy with you, you know? Thinks you're ready for the next step." What does that mean?

The Hickory Killer said he wanted to turn him into a killer, to bring out his true nature. How did he feel he'd accomplished that? I didn't want to kill those guys! I didn't have a choice! They were going to hurt Kitty! Nausea swelled in his stomach as he recalled their last meeting. How his cock had swelled at the reminder of his latest kill and the way the Hickory Killer had teased his wound. Shame coursed through him at how he'd squirmed and moaned, cock dripping for release. I-I didn't enjoy it! It was hard to believe that with how hard he'd been. They'd kissed, tongues entwining slowly as he'd whined and squirmed. If he didn't want it, he could have snapped his jaws. He could have bitten off his tongue and tasted his blood. Then what would happen to Kitty? That sounded a lot like an excuse.

"Don't look so worried, Gav. You'll be great! You've already come such a long way..." Gavin could agree with that at least. He had come a long way. A long way from his home, job, and comfortable life. The thought of what he'd left behind would break him if he thought about it. He kept the lid of that box tightly shut. He couldn't think about it. Wouldn't think about it. The memory of silken fur on his fingers. Silvery eyes watching him as he worked. A firm body pressing up behind as he slept. Bell-like laughter and a kiss on each cheek. The taste of whiskey. An arm around his shoulders. A fatherly voice. His back slamming on the mat. Cool fingers teasing his neck. The longing was painful, like homesickness. His throat ached, tears burning his eyes. It was harder to resist when he was so weak and vulnerable.

Words clawed at his throat. I want to go home! I want N-Even now, he didn't dare think about it. He clenched his teeth to keep it inside, but Jack still seemed to pick up on something. He sighed softly as he shuffled closer and wrapped his arms around him. Tears fell, misery overcoming him in a rare moment of weakness. Begging would be pointless. They wouldn't let him go. He'd be stuck here playing this sick little game until he gave in or died. Gentle murmurs reached his ear. The reassurance that everything would be alright. That he'd be good. He'd make them happy, and everything would be fine.

"It's okay, Gav...I'm here." Jack drew back as he spoke, cupping his cheek and caressing the stubble, wiping away the miserable little tears that trickled down his cheeks. Gavin sniffled pathetically, doing his best to hold it in. "Hey, it's okay, it's alright." A gentle thumb wiped away the falling tears, and sympathetic lips brushed his brow. Gavin shuddered needily, closing his eyes and leaning into the proffered comfort. Jack didn't deny him. The lips pressed harder, travelling across his brow and along his temples. He kissed his way down his cheek and along his jaw, circled his lips and up the other side. Gavin couldn't help chasing his lips as they passed, closing his eyes and sending more tears rolling down his cheeks. Jack continued, kissing down the bridge of his nose and finally reaching his neglected lips.

Gavin kept his eyes screwed shut, ignoring the wrongness and grabbing the comfort so kindly given. He was tired and weak, but still managed to move his hands to snag Jack's top and hold on, quietly pulling him closer. Jack went willingly, pulling his legs up and settling alongside him on the bed as he held himself on his elbow. His other hand moved to rest on his hip, cool fingers sneaking beneath his top to caress his uninjured hip. Gavin kept his eyes shut, sniffling and whining as Jack leaned even closer. Parting his lips, he welcomed Jack's searching tongue with his own, relaxing into the gentle strokes and lathering licks.

Sick and injured as he was, Jack knew he could go no further than simple comfort like this. He also knew the comforting contact would soon ease him into a light slumber. It was almost calculating how the kisses lengthened and his breaths shortened, starving him of oxygen and encouraging him to sleep. Gavin remained oblivious of such things, sniffling and whining as his tears slowed. He tilted his head in invitation, a silent request for more. Jack pressed closer, cool fingers sliding higher up his back to caress his scarred skin. Gavin continued to grip his shirt, feeling safe beneath his larger body. It was a familiar feeling. The scent of thirium reached his nose. There was something missing from the scent, but if he just put that aside, if he ignored it, he could just about believe...