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Jesse missed watching Gideon dress. He was so careful, selecting the right color and the right cut and the right material. But right for what? Jesse never knew. Gideon always did. Despite her more elaborate, feminine rituals, Emma never took as long as Gideon to prepare for the day. It wasn't that she cared less. Jesse watched her, too, fascinated by the way she chose to shield herself against the world. Why did she choose to wear her hair in a ponytail one morning, and hanging around her shoulders the next? How did she know when it was a day for deep red lipstick, as opposed to the color she called "coral pink?"
It was more of an attack. A trap.
Jesse was always very proud of belonging to Gideon. It was never anything he tried to articulate. It just was. Knowing that Gideon was the fastest, the strongest, the best, and how that reflected back on Jesse. But it wasn't that. Because Gideon wasn't perfect, and he wasn't the best. His flaws ran so deeply into his being, it scarred him permanently. But he was Jesse's. He didn't think Emma was perfect either, but she was the most perfect person he knew.
You were outnumbered. Gideon tried to defend you both. It looked like Emma was the first one they ... they killed her.
The world did not make sense. Michelle's words certainly didn't make sense, because Gideon wouldn't try to protect them both. He simply would. And what had Jesse been doing during this attack? He knew how to hold his own, and he rarely left the house without some sort of weapon. What could have been so overwhelming, so unexpected, that neither of them could defend against it?
Derek found you in the hospital. There was no signof Gideon anywhere.
Gideon wouldn't leave him. That was the fact of Jesse's life.