Page 59 of Small Sacrifices

Even though he desperately wants to, Reid doesn't actually sleep. It would be more accurate to say that he fades in and out of consciousness. One moment, he finally feels his thoughts calm for just a bit, and when he comes to, it's to the next fully formed internal freak-out.

Next to him, Everett breathes deeply. That's a relief to know, at least, that he's getting some well-deserved rest. But even that, Reid doesn't fully trust. What if Everett was a nightmare? After everything that's happened, it would be natural.

So, in his moments of alertness, Reid watches over Everett's sleep and is comforted by the way Everett burrows into him, even if he feels uncomfortable about having someone's nose stuck directly into his armpit.

He tries to match Everett's calm breaths as his own breathing rhythm threatens to get out of control again.

Reid doesn't remember even being close to falling asleep, but the next time he opens his eyes, there's a sliver of light dissecting the darkness of the living room and shining directly into his eyes.

He recoils from it as soon as he blinks for the first time.

That's when he notices Everett isn't plastered to him anymore.

He's still on the bed next to Reid, but they're not touching.

Carefully, Reid turns onto his side—and the air leaves his lungs.

What was red swelling around Everett's eye at midnight has now turned a vibrant purple.

Reid's mouth runs dry at the sight of it.

It's... he's never seen something like that in person.

That's got to hurt, right? Even just lying there, with nothing touching it.

At first, he's so distracted by the sight of Everett's eye that he doesn't notice how still Everett is. Not relaxed, no. His breathing is controlled, almost labored. But he's not moving a finger, even though he must be awake.

"Good morning," Reid says, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"Morning," Everett rasps back. He makes no move to turn his head, but there's a twitch in the bruised mess around his eye that makes Reid think that, oh. Maybe he's got his other eye open and is staring at the ceiling.

"Are you—" Reid just about stops himself because that's a monumentally stupid question. "Do you need anything?"

That's not much better, but at least it doesn't make Reid cringe in embarrassment. Not that there's much he could offer, but still. It's the thought that counts. Reid is having a lot of thoughts right now. It'd be nice if at least one of them was helpful.

Everett blows out a deep breath. "I have no idea. I mean, pain meds. But besides that..."

When Reid holds out the little blister pack, Everett sits up with a grunt, takes it, and turns it over to read what it says on the back. Then, he raises the eyebrow over his uninjured eye. "That's not gonna do much."

"It's all I have," Reid says. And when Everett pops out two of the tablets and swallows them dry, he bites his tongue to keep himself from pointing out you're only supposed to take one. He's still busy with that when Everett clears his throat.

"And how are you?"

Reid blinks at him. "Tired." That seems like the only thing appropriate to express right now. It's also the only thing he's sure of. "It was a long night. Good thing I don't have to go to work anymore. We can stay in bed as long as we like."

The joke falls flat. But he still gets a huff out of Everett, even if he doesn't smile. When his flat expression pinches into a frown, Reid is worried for a second. But Everett just shakes his head.

"I just feel so numb. Is it weird that I don't care about any of this right now?" He tilts his head at Reid. "I know people are going to lose their jobs, but I just wanna make sure Max is okay."

Oh dear. Reid folds his legs under him. "I don't think there's a right way to react to this. But if you don't mind me saying: I can understand why Max is angry. You really scared us yesterday. I wish you'd told us."

There are a lot more words clamoring to get out of his mouth, but Reid swallows them. Not helpful right now. Already, there's a defiant sheen in Everett's eyes.

"You would have stopped me. I couldn't let that happen. This… He needs to be in prison."

Right. Reid has a feeling that they're going to have a strongly worded discussion about this at some point, but now is hardly the time.

Putting Everett on the defensive when it's all still so fresh would be cruel.

No matter how numb he says he feels, that won't last forever.

It's going to sink in at some point. What happened. What he risked.

Reid is still debating how best to react when Everett asks, "Wait, do people know yet?"

Damn it. That's something that Reid should have looked up instead of watching Everett sleep. "I don't know. Marisol mentioned they'd probably need a statement. I don't think that Coleman would say something without hearing from you directly."

Everett huffs out a sad sound, and his shoulders slump. "I don't want to make a statement. I was talking to the police for hours yesterday. Can't they use that?" Then, something occurs to him, and he stretches to reach for his phone. "Wait a minute."

It takes Everett only a few swipes to find what he was looking for—and when he does, he nods grimly. "They didn't delete the video."

"Video?" Reid asks.

"Well, I recorded my father yesterday. I thought they might delete it, but I think they just cloned my phone. Can I just give Marisol the video and let it speak for itself?"

Reid's throat tightens. He doesn't even want to imagine what Everett got on tape. It's horrible enough to know it happened, but the idea that just anyone might watch it… "Are you sure you want that out there?"

Everett huffs a breath. "Someone's going to leak it eventually. At least this way, it'll be me making the decision. I have nothing to be ashamed of."

Reid feels the weight of Everett's words. It's not a question of if, but when. But Everett isn't the only one who this will affect.

"I think you might need to talk to Max first. Didn't you say your father threatened him too? Max should at least know what he said before he has to watch it on TV."

Everett is already typing, and then Reid hears the swooping notification sound of an email being sent out into the ether. "I'll talk to him," he says. "But this is the kind of thing they need to prepare for."

Neither one of them moves to start that conversation. For a while, the two of them just look at each other.

Reid is about to propose waking Max and having breakfast when Everett sighs sharply.

"Look, can you hold me for a moment? I just need to.

.." He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to.

Reid is already moving. It's difficult to figure out how to cuddle Everett the way he wants—"Just wrap yourself around me, Jesus, I don't care if it hurts"—without jostling his ribs, but they manage.

At first, it feels strange for Reid. He's not used to being the one offering comfort; he's usually the one receiving it.

Even from his older sisters, who are smaller than him.

He used to think it must feel odd for them with the size difference.

But as he lies there with Everett in his arms, breathing in his scent and focusing on the present moment, it starts to feel more natural.

Maybe comfort is something he can give, not just take.

"Is this what you need?" Reid asks softly.

The disgruntled sound Everett snuffles into the junction between Reid's neck and shoulder makes him shiver. "I don't know yet."

"Oh?"

He feels rather than sees Everett shrug. "I tend to drown my feelings with sex or alcohol when they get to this point. Never really tried it any other way. It's nice, though."

Right. Someone is definitely going to go to therapy, even if Reid has to drag him there himself. Not that he has any room to talk about not knowing how to feel about something.

It takes repeated pinging from Reid's phone before he reaches out for it. There are already quite a few messages from Briana. He doesn't even have the bandwidth to feel guilty about leaving her hanging. Instead, he opens the message thread with Marisol.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reid, I need you to ask your boy if he's sure he wants us to release this without censoring anything. It's brutal.

Of course she watched it immediately. Reid wonders if Everett even sent it to Lieutenant Governor Coleman or directly to Marisol. Instead of asking, he just shows Everett the screen. In return, he gets a grunt.

"Just rip off the Band-Aid. Censoring it would only be to my father's benefit. I'm not interested in that."

Without thinking about it too much, Reid sends off an affirmative message and puts his phone to the side again.

There's a peace in snuggling like this that he doesn't think he's ever experienced.

Even with everything that's happened, he feels full with it.

It should be overwhelming, he thinks. He doesn't tend to like touch.

But now, he just wants to hold Everett more tightly and never let him go. Sadly, his phone pings again.

Gotcha.

Do you think we could get a picture? It might be effective to show this wasn't just a kerfuffle.

Looking at Everett with his swollen eye, the word kerfuffle tastes sour on Reid's tongue. Whatever the video shows, surely the governor's words would be enough to show just how bad this was. Not for the first time, Reid curses the fact that people are so visual.

Watching Everett move slowly as he gets out of bed is painful.

Reid opens the curtains to let in more natural light and hesitates.

The camera captures the bruising and scratches well, and the blue splint on Everett's fingers is hard to miss.

But Everett's shirt hides his ribs. Reid frowns.

Asking him to undress feels wrong—he's already vulnerable.

But broken ribs would be bruised, right?

As Everett raises his shirt, Reid is confronted with two bruises in a very distinct crescent shape, like the sloped toe box of Governor Mackenzie's way too expensive dress shoes.

Even on the mottled background, they stand out starkly.

Reid clenches his teeth and breathes through his galloping heartbeat until he manages to take a few pictures that aren't too blurry.

When he has his phone back, Everett sends one of the images to Marisol without even looking at it. And then reaches for Reid.

It feels like second nature for Reid to take the few steps towards him, rise onto his tiptoes, and loop his arms around Everett's shoulders.

They can't stay like this forever. Reid is going to need to eat something soon if he wants to make it through the day.

Everett needs to go talk to Max. Once the video is released, their lives are likely to devolve into pandemonium. But for now, it's alright.