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 Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 9:18 pm
checking in
He didn't say a word until Ian returned with water. Jack drank slowly as requested, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, until the cup was completely drained. Then he turned his gaze up to Ian. "Bitten?" he repeated, sounding slightly less raspy, his brows arched. "Red eye, zombie, or kink gone wrong?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 9:23 pm
checking in
Ian first made sure that Jack was actually getting liquids in him before he peered around the edge of the curtain again, squinting at the two patients on the other side, across the room.
"I think he was being flirty, and she didn't appreciate it," Ian said, letting go of the curtain to settle back into his chair and give Jack a slight smile, though the worry wasn't gone from his eyes. "No zombies, no supernatural crap, thankfully." (Where was Ripley when he needed to make a Sam and Dean joke?)
Ian crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap, giving Jack a concerned look.
"You okay? They didn't tell me much about what happened, just that..." He gestured lamely towards his friend. "That you were injured pretty badly and stuff."
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 10:09 pm
the pen is mightier
She liked that scowl very much. Both because it was attractive and because it was something much closer to the original Jack. "Er, lots of dead people and I was there ... I'm hopin' I was metal as ******** and killin' a bunch of zombies or somethin' then ..."
Of course Chel knew that wasn't the case most likely, but thinking about her dead body made her stomach flip. "I died in one of mine too ..."
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 10:25 pm
the pen is mightier
"Yeah well...No more dying. Piece tabled for later," Jack announced. "Too heavy." He gestured at her both to indicate he was ready to help some more and also that she was still in charge of the conversation despite his veto.
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 10:34 pm
the pen is mightier
Chel felt calmer when Jack pushed the conversation elsewhere. She didn't like being in charge.
She pulled up the next box, a small one she'd gotten for Noemi. An ornament was inside, but it was glass and she didn't want to risk opening the box lest she break it. "You wanna know how the others are doing?" she asked, unsure if Jack was ready for that level of social interaction. "Pass me the tape?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 10:54 pm
checking in
Jack cackled and then instantly regretted it as his lungs expanded too much into his broken ribs; the sound was worth it anyway. "Someone go tell the ******** when they say eat her out, they don't mean literally tear out her flesh," he wheezed, slapping his knee and then cursing foully as pain radiated up his leg.
The mirth died down slowly in the way fire faded. He nursed his cup for a while and shifted in the cot.
"Well...Short story: three day mission to China went kinda shitty. Shorter story?" Cue grin. "I fought a dragon." Ian's concern was noted with relish even though he seemed to be outwardly dismissing it. "Maybe even got some cool scars from it. ********' sweet. So where you been, man? Busy planning s**t still?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 11:16 pm
the pen is mightier
He blinked. "The...?" Oh. That's right, there were others. Names shouted, daggers passed on, campfires, ghost blood war paint (sweet a** band name), whirring machines, blurred faces--things he had passed over because the night sky had been such a compelling image in his head, a constant in the haze of delirium. (That night as a whole, though, that was a different story.)
"If you want," Jack replied after a beat, wincing as he leaned over and got the tape for her. "Anything interesting?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 11:26 pm
the pen is mightier
"Mm," Chel murmured, ripping a piece of the tape off and attempting to get this one part that was sticking out funny to stay down. "Talia's getting a hearing for deserting, no surprise there." She vaguely wondered if Talia would soon be sporting her own fetching metal alarm clock. "Jerome's doing better though. Heard he felt bad about being knocked out for the big finale, stupid bleeding heart."
She put the box in the plastic bag and pulled out a few other odds and ends she'd gotten for two other hunters that weren't very important but were important enough to get presents. One of which was a bundle of candy canes. She pulled one out and offered it to him, but with a firm grip. "Can you eat this?" She gave him a look and said, "Be honest."
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 11:42 pm
the pen is mightier
Abruptly Jack sat up and bristled. "She what?" For a moment his eyes lit up with something worse than anger. It wouldn't have mattered to him at all--Talia had been just another face in the blur of three days who wouldn't matter after the mission--had it not been for the fact that she had deserted. He was triggered, and his face twisted into something ugly as his words slurred together in their haste.
"We could've used her! We could've--Y'tellin' me she ********' ditched us?" Jack demanded, hand balling into a white tight fist. Nothing else mattered; the candy cane was ignored, the smell only a sting to his nose. He glared Chel down like she was the one confessing to the crime.
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Posted: Wed Dec 17, 2014 11:48 pm
the pen is mightier
Chel flinched and physically withdrew within herself for a moment, feeling a plate in Jack's hand and her head on the floor-
She softened, she brought herself back down, but she couldn't look at Jack. "Think about where she was. She was guardin' a dead weight and she sees a dragon in the sky and hears over the radio everythin' goin' to hell." Her knuckles are white with how hard she's gripping the newspaper in her hands. "She's gonna get hell from here on out, I know firsthand alright?"
As though she is Talia, she says, "M'sorry 'bout it.."
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2014 12:12 am
the pen is mightier
he spat. "She didn't even ********' do her job, she ********' left Jerome's a** behind instead've porting--the guy couldn't even ********' defend himself! What if those soldiers had decided t'go ********' attack our camp, huh?" He was stuck in his rage and seeing red, ignoring (hell, vaguely liking) the way Chel retreated; at the same time, however, it annoyed him further that she couldn't look at him.
"Why're you even defending her?" Jack hissed. "She didn't give a s**t 'bout any've us, Chel, why the ******** should you?" He didn't quite punch the bed space beside him, but it was close enough.
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2014 12:45 am
the pen is mightier
Chel was frozen, unsure what Jack was going through. All she kept picturing was the rain that night, it kept getting in her eyes, it's running down her face and she can't get him to stop no matter what she does-
"Stop it!" She broke his manic rampage with her own voice. "Just .... just stop it." She wasn't sure why this particular subject upset her so much, but it did. "People do a lot of things for a lot of reasons. I'm not ... defending her, I just-"
She let out an exasperated sigh, because they can't even have a medical bedside conversation without raising their voices. Worse yet, part of her is happy about it because it recedes back into normalcy. "She'll probably die anyways Jack." Chel took a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "I just think that's sad is all."
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2014 1:10 am
the pen is mightier
"Stop what?" His head begins to throb in protest, and he forces his fist to unclench just to press on his temple. "Stop what, Chel?" His breath is shallow and his jaw clenches because he remembers if there's too much noise someone will come and probably force out, and he can't let it happen—but he also can't just sit there and swallow this bullshit so passively. "Stop bein' angry? Stop callin' her—well she ********' is, she's a ********' c**t-faced coward n' deserter n' she deserves what's comin' t'her and more."
He finds himself quivering with rage, and if he hadn't been so caught up in the moment he would have been embarrassed about it. But he can't believe it: second god damn mission he nearly died because a teammate decided running away was preferable to helping. ******** what.
Sliding his hand over his face, he strives to control his breathing as Owain tries to step in and stymie the darker impulses rolling in. "Sad," he mocks Chel. "Bullshit. Sad 'bout what? You don't ********' desert people," he argues, making the word sound as dirty as a curse. "Not like that. You stay, you figure it out, you ********' bring your ward if you leave—" It's hard to put a cap on his empassioned rant, but his head aches something fierce and his existence is simplified into fury, frustration, and futility beneath the shadow of his hand. He breathes haggardly as though he had ran a marathon.
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2014 1:19 am
the pen is mightier
Chel allows him get it out. She lets him yell at her, because if she doesn't then someone else might get their leg caught in the bear trap that is Jack's fury.
More importantly, she sees it's hurting Jack more than it's worth, and her hand comes to gently touch his arm (she still has her bandages on and it seems safe enough, but she hopes the lifers don't see). Just a small touch that she hopes can remind him where he is.
"Take it easy Jack," she says softly. "You can hunt her down later- hell I'll help if you need it, but don't hurt yerself now, 'kay?" Because Talia's life is worth abysmally less than Jack's is. "I didn't mean ta-" The firm grip she had on Jack's arm relents- not gone, but waning as though she could let go at any moment. She's suddenly afraid- no- ashamed. "Do ya want me to go?"
Her stomach ties in knots because not only has she not managed the courage to ask him about that night, she's possibly driven him further away again. She always ******** it up, and it's visible on her face that she's afraid of what his response will be.
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Posted: Thu Dec 18, 2014 9:07 am
the pen is mightier
The world spins and he presses his hand down tighter in hopes of stopping it. There's a red drumming of heartbeats in his ears and in his head and in his eyes and in every individual finger and in his chest and maybe everywhere else too, because the heart reaches everywhere: and when it's consumed with nauseating fury like it is now, that too spreads to all corners. Jack's confinement has never felt like such a burden than now; his body is holding him hostage, forcing him to stay and be both unable to act on his impulses and unable to escape the constant screaming to do so. It's hot, it's too hot, the makes the colors become blanched and formless limbs reached out for him and bones caress him and he's hunting them down one by one he will have his retribution there will be a reckoning but the screaming doesn't stop and they're gone they're just gone—
For a while he's incapable of words, just muted noises and breaths; staccato, sharp, irregular but growing steady again breaths. One even sounds close to a dry sob. Each one helps relieve his nausea, even though he's sure he might have to heave what little he had eaten soon. His tension doesn't fully release, but in increments he finds control again. He realizes she's put his hand on him (the area around feels like it's on fire, but he doesn't know if that just how hot she feels to the touch or if he's experiencing pain beyond his current threshold of understanding) and that there's a question she's waiting on whose words he doesn't remember but whose tone is easy to decipher.
"I-I didn't say you—" Jack sounds imperious at first, but then he stops and swallows with great difficulty, presses his head to the pillow, and then his voice turns remarkably weak. Pain and medicine have stripped him of his ability to remain level-headed: this is a Jack at the mercy of his emotions. "Don't go," he whispers, hoping the lower volume might help. "Please—please don'go. I can't—but I didn't mean—m'sorry, just...please..."
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