Opposites Attract

Shattered

She held her sleeve over her mouth, clamping her lips together as silent sobs wracked her body. She'd gotten used to keeping silent over the years, as her panic attacks had gotten worse and more frequent. She'd had several in the month she'd spent at Jax's house; she was confident no one knew, and she wanted to keep it that way. Her brain was blatantly disobeying her, shoving every thought she'd been avoiding in front of her in one massive pile of emotional trauma. 

Her village had banished her. Her dad was missing. She'd killed her mother. (Twice, she added mentally.) Jax was hurt because of her. Not only hurt but probably traumatized mentally. She was a shit friend, a shit daughter, and an overall shit person. And it hurt. She thought she was going to collapse because it hurt, and she didn't know how to deal with this. She could deal with physical pain, she could work so hard she ran herself into the ground, but this was foreign, and she hated it.

She cried herself sick, throwing up her meager breakfast and watching the river take it away, and only then did she remember what she'd come here to do. She stripped down to the skin and waded into the deep water, letting it rinse away the blood and sweat from her hair and body. Her boots, sitting at eye level, seemed to taunt her with their blood smeared soles. 

The river moved slow, which she was thankful for, so she could just stay still, cleaning her wounds and calming herself down. When she finally stepped out, her breathing was steady, and she felt cleaner than she had in weeks. 

She dressed her wounds quickly, then got dressed again, pulling her boots on last and shaking out her wet hair before walking back. Her body was shaking a bit, but it was always like that after she threw up, and the wet hair wasn't helping. It was late afternoon, she noticed, and she knew that no one would fault her for taking a nap, but she knew she needed to stay up a bit, for Jax. 

She trudged back to their camp wearily. She hummed a bit under her breath, just to let him know she was headed that way, and to give him a moment to compose himself. When she sat down next to him he looked up at her, his usual scowl back on his face.

"You all good?" he asked, voice too light. 

"Yep. All bandaged up."

"You're shivering."

"Mm-hm," she replied, opting to go with the honest answer, "I threw up a bit. Okay... A lot."

"That doesn't sound all good."

"I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows in his signature Are you sure? expression.

"I'm not sick, if that's what you mean."

"You know that's not what I meant, dumbass."

She huffed a laugh, flicking her wet hair at him and reaching for her bag.

"I'm serious, you know."

"I'm fine," she said sharply, frowning as he winced, "Sorry. I just..."

She hated the word 'just'. It sounded weak, like she was too dumb to think up the rest of the sentence.

"Alright. Does it have to do with that panic attack from this morning?"

She crossed her arms and frowned, but nodded lightly.

"You're cold too, hm?"

She nodded, pulling a blanket out of the bag and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"C'mere."

She smiled and lied down next to him, pulling his blanket out as well. She flinched as his arms wrapped around her, and she twisted to face him.

"What are you doing?"

"Keeping you warm. Now roll back over and quit fidgeting."

She complied, breaking away from him for a moment to grab her sweaters, putting one on and bunching the other one up under her head, then lying back down against his chest, now covered. 

He spread both blankets over them, and she fell asleep wrapped in his warmth.