Chapter Thirteen:
Promises Kept
Sailor Hephaestos learnt too late that the tough metal-material of her fuku was almost impossible to rip. She blunted a pair of scissors on it before eventually sighing and deciding that wriggling out of the damn thing would have to be the order of the day.
Standing up from her crate, gloves and choker already on the floor, she squirmed and cursed as she finally managed to get one arm out of it. "Who the fuck made these things? I'm gonna kick their nancy ass."
"Don't be too hard on yourself," answered Talos sheepishly. He was sitting to the side, just far enough to avoid the shower of clothing, but close enough to get a good view of Jace. Not that it mattered any more. It wasn't the first time he had seen her undress, and it probably wouldn't be the last. They were beyond that sort of thing in their friendship.
Well, maybe not completely beyond it, Talos mentally noted, glad the grin in his mind would never show through into his avian self.
"I'm not being hard on myself, I'm being hard on this stupid thing!"
Hephaestos finally managed to peel it off to her waist, wincing as the harsh stuff rubbed over her now-sensitive and definitely-swollen bosom. She was apparently shameless, working the bodice down over her slim hips and rounded belly. "You'd think there'd be a zip, wouldn't you?"
"That would be too easy. Fate is cruel." He might have laughed if the statement hadn't been so infuriatingly accurate.
She snorted, taking the time out to run one of her hands through her unfamiliarly long hair. Jace's red hair had been getting shaggy for months and months; finally, in hiding, with the help of a bottle of black dye Emily had given her, her look had changed. Now her eyebrows and her previous shock of bright hair were shiny black, and her hair hung down to her chin. Her old spikes had been taken apart until there were only two, framing her face. She was uncomfortable with her new looks.
Hephaestos finally wriggled the bodice and the skirt over her legs, kicking it away and standing naked. "Fucking fate thinks it's so big. It's not big. Jace is big."
Staring at her nakedness, Talos mumbled in agreement, "Uh huh." His eyes were glazed over.
Apparently satisfied with proving that she was a real redhead to Talos, Hephaestos picked up her abandoned clothes and started pulling them on. Panties. Incredibly baggy jeans, to hide the metal legs. Tank top. "Do I look like - well - Jace?"
Talos finally roused himself from his dazed state. "To me, or to others? I still recognize you, but I doubt anyone else will. The glamour is on your side, and you've changed enough over the past few months I'm pretty sure even our old 'teammates'" -- he spat the word out hatefully -- "wouldn't be able to recognize you. The most they could manage would be noting a resemblence. Add sunglasses, and I bet even Percy wouldn't be able to recognize you. And that's saying a lot, since he's a guardian and should be able to recognize a senshi. Not that I have any faith in his abilities." Talos snorted disdainfully.
"Percy's a fucktard." She rummaged around in a bag for a pair of sunglasses, slipping them on her face before putting on an oversized pair of boots. "I want to kill him and roast his remains, and then devour him with some nice fava beans and a sparkling Chianti."
Talos laughed. "I can't believe Em showed that movie to everyone. What was it supposed to teach us?"
"Human beings are a good source of protein?" Hephaestos ran a hand through her hair. "Your Henry liked it, though. Next thing you know we'll find bodies in the basement. More bodies in the basement, anyway."
The subject of Tibby always served to make Talos uneasy, so he quickly changes the topic. "If you're ready, we should get going, right?"
"Yeah." She knelt down with only minor difficulty. "C'mon - I'll carry you."
With a little hop, Talos was in her arms, cradled comfortably and securely. He knew already that their destination was Jace's former high school, William Fleming. Since it was Sunday, there would be no students, but thanks to a church group using the auditorium, the gates would be wide open. "You sure you're ready?" asked Talos, craning his neck around so he could look Jace in the eyes.
"I've always been ready." Her eyes were dead. "C'mon, bird."
Outside, it was bright and clear, a trace of morning dew left in the shadows. With Talos concealed under a jean jacket, they walked the five blocks to the main terminal and boarded the bus that would drop them off directly in front of the school. The ride was quiet and uneventful. At least part of that was out of necessity, since they could not risk Talos talking in a public place. Some things were beyond explanation.
As the bus pulled away in a blast of hot, stinky air, Talos finally ventured out from underneath the jacket. The chain link fence that surrounded the school greeted him.
Hephaestos walked forward to the gate, wrapping the jean jacket around her waist as if afraid the lump at her stomach would get cold. Almost dreamily, she entered through it, swaying slightly on the step before venturing forward.
"This is where he died," she said suddenly.
Sounding distant, Talos said, "It's where a lot of things happened."
They made their way in via the front gate. The parking lot was large and empty, save for a huddle of cars near the auditorium bearing bumper stickers like "Jesus Loves You" and "In God We Trust."
The brick buildings of the school were strangely quiet on the weekends. No murmur of voices from within the classrooms, messengers running across campus, or skippers ambling around corners confidently, alibis on the tips of their tongues and joints burning holes in their pockets. The somber atmosphere suited the nature of their visit.
As they rounded the cafeteria, the courtyard came into view. The courtyard where, mere months ago, everything had fallen apart.
Hephaestos walked confidently into it, shoving her hands into her jean pockets and looking up at the sky. Then she looked straight ahead, gnawing her lip; a soft sigh came from her throat.
"Things are so fucked up."
Talos could come up with no good response for that, lost in a sea of guilt. He jumped from Hephaestos' arms to the ground and took a short walk around, taking stock of the scenery. "So little has changed."
"Why would it have?" She looked around. "It was a goddamn stupid place for a fight, though. We should have done it where we had less room for Sarin to move."
Feathers stiffening, Talos wished he had a lip to bite as he felt a choking sob rise in his throat until he could contain it no longer. It came out as little more than a squeak, rally, but once it was out he could not stop shuddering.
"It's okay, Talos." Her voice was soft, but plastic; it held no emotion. "I learnt a while back that it's okay to cry."
His head whipped around, and for a moment, it seemed he would be angry, but he just as quickly relaxed. "Then why don't you cry?"
"I've already cried." Hephaestos shook her head. "I cried into my mom, into my dad, into his shoulder, into Jack, into kleenex, like a complete sissy. I'm a warrior. I should expect death by now."
Those were the words Talos had always wanted to hear, and the words he had dreaded from the start. "I wish I had your strength. Is that why you came here? To test your strength?"
"Maybe." She scrubbed a hand across her face, the autumn sun shining down on them both. "Maybe it was just to test my weakness."
Talos returned to looking across the grass in contemplation. Suddenly he seemed to change, sitting up a bit straighter and turning his head towards the front office.
"What?" Hephaestos looked up, sardonic. "What is it, Lassie?"
"I sense something. Something very odd. Coming from that direction."
"Probably the Christians. I hear they eat babies."
"Don't be silly," he snapped. "We have to go check it out. Come on."
Hephaestos sighed. "Lead the way."
"Ahem," Talos coughed, not moving.
"... Okay, okay, get up here." She knelt down.
"Thank you," said Talos happily, clambering aboard. "And we're off!"
They walked past the cafeteria to the auditorium, crossed the parking lot, and returned to the main gate, where they waited a minute for some cars to pass before crossing the street, going down into the field, and continuing to the edge of the Home Depot parking lot.
"It's in there," breathed Talos.
Jace stopped, stock-still, as if there was an invisible wall in front of them. "... I'm not going in there."
"But we have to! The thing I'm sensing is inside!"
"Jack might be there. I'm not going in there."
"Aha!" went Talos gleefully, "but we don't have to run into him. I can sense where he is."
"Join the club. I can, too. I don't want to go in there."
Talos's mind raced. "You can't tell me you're scared to go in there. Weren't you just talking about facing strengths and weaknesses? We have to go in there! We have to!"
"Talos," she said distantly. "The moment I see Jack, like this, I'm going to break, and then I'm going to go home, and then it'll all be over, so you'll never see your precious thing anyway."
"We'll just have to avoid him seeing us, then," gritted out Talos. "If he's even in there. Now come on, you're not going to run away from this."
"You never cared about what I felt for Jack!"
Talos shrunk back. "I barely know the guy!"
"Exactly!" Point somehow made, Hephaestos stomped forward.
Jumbled along in this furious stomping, Talos could neither object nor approve, because honestly, he had no idea about things when it came to Jack. He wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or frightened about the fact that they were heading towards Home Depot, but before he could make up his mind, they were inside.
"Right, okay," he gasped, tucking himself down inside the jacket, reduced to whispering. "Go straight and then head to the right."
Hephaestos moved, still half-terrified that at any moment she'd see the familiar sight of a lean brunette, and walked along the center aisle. Taking the first right, she stopped for further orders.
"They always change the shelves," she said absently.
"Um, okay, keep going down this way... Left! Left here!" He struggled to keep his voice at a whisper. "It's close! It's very close! Do you see anything?"
"Yeah, a claw hammer display. Whoopee."
Poking his head out, Talos looked at the display in front of them. "It's coming from so close nearby... Put me down." A moment later he was on the floor, and he nearly yelped in surprise. "It's down here! Down here!"
Hephaestos knelt down, metal legs creaking as she attempted to surreptitiously feel under the display. Her hand closed on a long handle; carefully, she drew it out.
It was a war hammer, the handle long like a polearm in dark grey with crimson, stylized flames running up the side. The head was hefty, the wedge on it knife-sharp; it should have been heavy beyond comprehension but in her hands it was surprisingly light.
"My God," she muttered. "What is it?"
"Don't you know what it is?" answered Talos, his voice strangely wise.
"No." Her dark locks shivered. "... Wait. It's mine."
"Then you know what to do with it," he said.
Her eyes flared half-red. "Hephaestos Graikos Elevation, Burn-Up!"
A fissure broke beneath her. There was hot steam; magma spiraled out of the hammer to her body and covered it, hardening to a shell that broke and scattered pieces across the floor that immediately disappeared into dust. There was impression of a hot wind, and the dust turning sparkling, on her shoulder and body; and then it disappeared, instantly, as if it had never been.
And what was there was Hephaestos, but different.
The bodysuit was no longer ash-grey. It was white, sparklingly so, half-transluscent so that Talos could see the tan flesh beneath. It was slit down to almost her bellybutton, clasped together with red enamel; it was open at her hips and low over her stomach. There was a hefty armguard at one shoulder, iron-grey and rimmed in cherry crimson, set with a curved diamond spike. Hephaestos' forehead was set with an iron circlet; on her other shoulder fluttered a long, ragged piece of red metalmaterial, like a torn wing. Her skirt had been decimated, two red ribbons wound about her thighs in its place.
The last thing was the mark on her cheek. It was a white tattoo, a long rectangle with a circle set in the middle. Save the red metal shining at her elbows and the gauntlets gripping the hammer in her hands, there was nothing more.
"Well, fuck me," Lady Hephaestos grunted.
Talos gave a short laugh. "Always the same, through and through. Congratulations."
"What -is- this shit, Talos?" She leant on her hammer. "And - sweet jesus, where's the fucking material in this outfit? You're not supposed to see my bloody pubic hair if I scrunch up!"
Talos very quickly turned pink under his feathers. "Uh, it's your new power level, elevation, um," he explained, flustered. "More power and, uh, stuff." He winced.
"Yeah, the power to figure out that I dye." Hephaestos looked over herself. "Geez. I kinda like this. New power, huh?"
"The power of the Forge," Talos supplied. "The ability to create. But, perhaps you should power down or something, before someone sees us."
Anything further was abruptly interrupted, though, as a lanky figure rounded the end of the aisle, softly addressing someone over his shoulder. Despite the firm steps, there was a tiredness in his motions as if sleep and rest were something long absent from his life. Then, suddenly, he turned to face them.
Jackson Reilly stared at his former teammates, green eyes wide and wounded. Then, as if a switch were thrown deep within, his face went blank, eyes gone cold and mouth tight.
Hephaestos' face caved in, grey eyes huge, half-crumpling. She half-raised her hand, expression immediately griefstricken. "Jack - "
"Hephaestos." His voice was nearly drawling as he studied her closely. Then his gaze shifted to the partridge. "Perdix." As if drawn by magnets, though, his eyes swung back to his soul-friend. "Long time, no see."
In a great display of courage, Talos barked, "That's Talos, thankyouverymuch!" and backed into Hephaestos's leg.
Jack's glacial stare didn't waver; the partridge could have been anything at that point. "Fine. Talos." His voice sounded more Southern, more drawling, more glass-edged-sharp.
"Reilly, don't do this to me." Hephaestos' voice came all out in a spilled rush. "Please - it all fucked up and he's dead now and I don't know what to do and I don't know if I killed anyone or not and I'm sorry soso sorry and Jack, please - you don't have to - "
Abruptly, his head whipped to one side, face pale and eyes closed. “Jace..." This time he sounded warm, concerned, her Jack. He drew a ragged breath and carefully refused to look back. "Get out of that outfit. You're in the middle of hardware. Looks silly."
"I can't. I've got no legs." She was screaming along their bond, loud and clear.
"Your chair always came back before." Jack scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. "I'll catch y-... Can't talk to you like this."
She landed with a sudden thump on her behind, hammer clattering behind her, left in her tank top and suddenly very baggy jeans. "Owww," she groaned. "Shit. I think I bruised my ass."
He had started forward as soon as he had seen her start to concentrate; something had slowed his movements a fraction, though, and now he stood beside her, looking down with a strange half-smile on his face. “Graceful," he commented softly.
"Please?" She opened her arms to him, her black hair in messy flyaway strands all over her face, not used to being anything other than gelled into submission.
Seemingly before he could think it out properly, the lanky artist bent and scooped her up in his arms. Her proximity to his scar made him shiver minutely.
She pressed her cheek into his shoulder. "Tals, get out of here," she murmured. "I'll be back later, okay? If you can't go the distance, hang around Fleming or something and I'll be back for you."
Gasping, Talos bobbed his head, and took off at a run, never looking back. His clawed feet scratched against the hard concrete floor as he scurried out of sight, and out of mind.
There was a long pause as Jack stood, cradling his friend close, eyes half-closed. Finally, a long sigh escaped him. "Jace," he whispered, "what's going on? Where've you been? I..." He shifted her in his arms to look into her face. "Missed you," slipped out, tiny and wounded.
It took all she had not to let go and weep. Jace pressed her forehead to his, half-rough, eyes clenched tightly as if to block her tear ducts. "I missed you so much, Jacks. So damn much. I've fucked up so bad and I couldn't come back and... I hurt you and... mom and dad, shit..."
"Come back now."
She pressed her face to his neck. "... They promised," she finally managed. "And I can't see my parents, not 'till..."
Jack's voice was rough and soft at the same time and he began walking her back towards the break room. "Promised? Who promised? Jace, you promised... Promised me something. D'ya remember that?"
She shuddered with that, half a wail buried in his shirt, her arms around his neck. "I didn't break it! I didn't! I... I just... Jacks, they said they were going to try to bring him back a-an', it was my fault the fuckin' bastard died and I can't go 'round for the rest of my life with that on my shoulders, without trying. I can't." The tiny ex-redhead breathed him in; he smelt like Jack, like sweat and faintly like charcoal and like his deodorant, reassuring. Her voice went lower, husky with unshed tears and shame. "I'd never break our promise, darlin', never ever."
There was another long silence, thick and uncomfortable, as he pushed open the door to the break room with a hip. Then, still silent, he set her down on the worn and mangy sofa before moving to drag the garbage can in front of the door. He hesitated as he turned, one hand moving to brush long fingers over the top of the water cooler. "Remember this?" he murmured. Then he shook his head and moved to stand near the sofa. "Never?"
She curled up on the sofa, playing with the sunglasses she had put in her pocket. "Never. Never never never."
Gingerly, Jack sat down next to her. He wasn't about to touch her again but his body had relaxed. "So now what?"
"I don't know." She pressed her hands down flat on the ratty covers. "I... I said I wouldn't fight again, not with the Graikos. But... d'you know how strong they are, Jack? The Dark Universe? They've arrived, and shit, they're scaring the piss out of me. There's this enormous ball of snot and I have no idea how we'd ever kill him and there's this girl who's got half a dozen personalities and can probably kill you with a couple of toothpicks and there's this little dog-elephant and... I thought I used to be badass. I'm a fuckin' toddler compared to these guys. We're going to lose."
"Jace... Who are the Dark Universe? What the hell are you on about?" His forehead wrinkled as he tried to follow her words. "Jace, why can't you come home? I don't care if you don't fight," he bit his lip and shook his head quickly, viciously, "I don't but I miss you."
She shook her head. It was all still coming out in a confused babble. "Tyche was downtown, wasn't he? During the riots? Demantoid, that's him, he's one of them. I want to come home. Oh, God, I want to come home."
A shudder ran through his lean frame at the mention of downtown and he dropped his head back against the couch, eyes shut tight. It had been the teams first attempt at a truce and it had gone badly; two young women had died that evening. Reaching up, he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Shit, that's what they can do, huh? All of them?" he whispered. "Tyche watched that. He..."
"Worse." Her teeth gritted. "He was there, when, when... when Tibby killed himself. And they consider him the sissy of the group."
One of his hands left his face and blindly creeped across the sofa to grip one of Jace's. "I can't believe you're with them," he finally murmured, voice dead. "After that one... helped to... Shit, you know. You always know."
"I'm not. I'm not with them." Her voice was fervent, fingers around his with pressure enough to break. "I'm using them. Once they give me what I want, I'm out of there."
"Right," Jack sighed, more for something to say. For a long moment, they sat there silently, frozen in time. Suddenly, his thumb brushed against her palm and he turned slightly to look her in the eye. His gaze was hooded and vaguely cool. "What you want, Jace? Oh, darlin', do you even know what you want anymore?" His hand tightened back, long artist's fingers squeezing hers with a surprising strength, almost cruel. "Darlin', if they're all you say they are, why do they need you?"
It hurt like a blow, because she'd thought the same over and over. "They can't function in the real world yet," she said raggedly. "If they kill me afterwards, I was asking for it. It's not like I'm the only human there. They've got Talos. And they've got Young. I'm just there because of Perdix."
He was silent, staring at her, clearly not buying it.
"Look, it doesn't matter okay?" She raised her head, features stiffening into her usual old expression of resolved bluster. "I can handle myself. I'm a big girl now."
Suddenly, he reached out and laid his palm flat on her stomach, pressing softly. Then he looked up into her eyes again.
With a ghost of a lopsided smile, she slipped her hand over his. "Except for this little retard," she murmured. "Watch out. Patting makes her kick."
"Her mom kicks, too." Jack returned the smile weakly; he seemed worn too thin, too old, too tired. "'Specially when she's having a nightmare."
"Well, her godfather sleeptalks."
"... It's the nightmares." Gingerly, he lifted his hand from his friend's stomach.
Jace flopped, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. "... do you hate me? I'd understand if you did. I... I know I did the wrong thing, okay, my goddamn brain just didn't join my hands 'till two days later."
Tilting his head, his chin rested on the top of her head and he sighed. "I'm not gonna lie, Jace," he whispered. "Part of me wants to... Hurt you. Real bad. But I couldn't ever really hate you. No, never."
"Wanna go outside after your shift and go a couple of rounds? Might make you feel better."
"Jace... You so don't want that. He'd kill you."
"You know, I've always wanted to go up against Tyche. Especially now. Besides, I saw him in you. Just before." Jace pulled away and grasped Jack's chin, searching his eyes, as if looking for Tyche within them. "C'mon. Let the bastard out. Hurt me."
Roughly, he pulled away, standing and showing her his back. "No." "You know you want to, Jack. You've wanted to hurt me for ages now. For not telling you about him. For being so weak. For controlling your life."
"No, no, no. Jace, it's not like that." His shoulders were tense and he paced away from her, carefully keeping his face turned away. "I don't. Never have. Don't care about any of that. Not me." He stopped suddenly and sucked in a shaky breath, hands clenching slightly at his sides. "He does and he... Jace, you don't want to fight."
"Yes, I do." She propped herself up with her hands. "C'meere, Tyche, Tyche, Tyche. You know you're just trying to fuck his head anyway. Let's get all that poison out, huh? Come on, you frilly ruffled Mel Gibson-stealing asshole."
"Jace, don't. Just don't fuck with this." Jack strode across the room and ripped a paper cone from the dispenser near the water cooler. His hand shook as he tried to fill it. "If anything you've ever said to me means anything at all, just don't. He'll kill you and I don't want you using us to suicide." He finally turned back to face her, green eyes shining with pain and something else. "You promised."
"... Part of you wants to kill me. How d'you think that makes me feel?" She stared down at the carpet, black hair falling over her face. Her hormones were swinging and she was near bawling again from her earlier bravado. "I, I, I did what I had to do but maybe it'd be for the better oh, damn it, Jack."
Walking back, he offered her the cone of water wordlessly, begging with his eyes.
She took it, mouth dry, but not bothering to sip; she clutched it in her hands. "Jack..."
"... Yeah, Jace?"
"I, I'll come home if you want me to." Her face had drained completely of color.
He felt like his heart had stopped, his mouth opening to speak and nothing coming out for a long moment. Then, silently, he nodded. "I want you to."
"... Can I sleep over at your place?" Her skin was greyish. "I'm not ready to face Mom or Dad yet. And I think you still have some of my clothes."
He nodded again, frozen, afraid that something would break if he moved. "'Course."
Jace folded her eyes tightly, then curled up at the end of the couch and pressed her face to the motheaten cushions. "... I'll wait here 'till your shift's done."
"... It's done. Food poisoning. I'm going to hurl." Spinning, he grabbed his time card from a rack and scribbled something on it before putting it through the machine for a punch. Then he slid it back into its usual place. "Better get me home before I mess up the break room, huh?"
Her smile was radiant. That was her Jack. Her silly, sweet Reilly. "You adorable, cheating little bastard. Let's go."
"You don't have your chair at all?" he asked, even as he scooped her up in his arms.
"Nope." She wriggled into him, arms around his neck. "Walk me half the way and I'll transform once we're out of sight, all right?"
"No, don't worry. I've got you." Carefully, he adjusted his grip. "You're not that heavy and it's not that far." He smiled down at her, lopsided and actually affectionate. "Good thing about working like a slave is you get muscles like one."
Jace gave a soft little sigh of relief. "I'll have your sweat-gleaming muscled body pimped out to lonely women on the street in no time."
He half-laughed, cheeks pinking. "Really, really, really lonely women, I guess."
"Stop being twee and take me home, Jackrabbit."
"'Course I will." Cradling her close to his chest, the half-smile never leaving his face, Jack left the break room and slipped out the back door of Home Depot. It wasn't far to his apartment. He had Jace back and she was staying. That made the world better somehow.
Jace licked the remnants of taco sauce off her fingers, sitting on Jack's bed. She refused to let herself think. She had told Talos; going in there had been a test of weakness... that she had obviously failed. Now she was sitting on his familiar, soft-toy-infested bed, relaxed and fed and long past bawling.
Failure felt kind of nice this time around.
"... So how've my parental units been?" she ventured, the attempted brashness not overcoming the timidity in her voice.
Jack paused in gathering up the scattered food wrappers and looked at her solemnly. "Other than worried sick?" He dropped the wrappers into a bag on the floor and then moved to sit beside her, reflexively reaching out to push her hair from her eyes. "They're... Coping. I'm eating over there at least four times a week, I guess. It seems to help your mom."
"Yeah. Mom likes feeding people." She pressed her face into his hand, grimacing. "Dad's going to have my goddamn spine for a back-scratcher once I get back."
"Maybe in a week. He'll be too happy to see you now."
"Yeah." She gnawed her lip until it bled. "Yeah."
Gently, he ran his thumb over her mouth, forcing her to stop biting to avoid hurting him and wiping the blood away. "They love you, Jace," he whispered. "That'll do it. Every time."
"Yeah. I'm - lucky." She popped a kiss on his thumb, her mouth trembling just slightly. "I know that."
Smiling faintly, Jack sank more fully onto the bed and tugged her into a hug. "Good... I'm glad to have you back, Jace."
She curled on top of him, playing with the material of his t-shirt with a thumb and forefinger as she settled down. "Well, what can I say? Let's toss it up. Filthy dank hole filled with aliens, or you and home."
"Gee, I'm better than a big ball of snot?"
"You definitely smell better, Reilly."
"Then I don't have to take a shower tonight so you can sleep okay?" He chuckled softly and stroked a lazy hand over her shoulder. "You get the bed, Jace."
She rolled grey eyes at him, dipping her cheek to touch his hand as he traced close to the scar. "How many times do we have to do this, idiot? You've had every relation with me you can except carnal, okay, so we're sharing a bed."
He was suddenly glad that she couldn't see his face; he felt his cheeks warm at her words. "Huh, right, fine," he muttered. "Want something better for a nightshirt?"
"Nah." Jace unbuttoned the jeans, wriggling out of them in an untidy heap on the floor, sending her jean jacket absently on top before she flopped back to her previous position. "I can't wear things that squish my boobs, anyway. I swear these were less painful coming in."
"Oh." Jack sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, bending to unlace his boots. "Need aspirin or anything?"
"Nah. I'm not getting the cramps any more. No medicine for my other ailments." She stuck her hands underneath her head, watching his ceiling. "Thanks for being nigh-on angelic, Jackrabbit."
"'M not," he grunted as he tugged off reluctant boots.
"You are. I can almost see the little halo." She helpfully pulled his overshirt off from around his shoulders. "And harp."
"Can't sing, can't play." He obediently shifted so she could get the shirt off him. Then he half-grinned over his shoulder at her. "Just Jack."
"Just Jack," she repeated. "I like that." Absently, she pressed her face into his hair. "Mmm. Apples."
He laughed again softly. "Apples?"
"Yeah. Your hair." She moved her face along. "And this bit smells like sawdust and... Cigarette smoke."
Jack hung his head a bit, dark hair falling in his eyes, and he stood. "I've been smoking more," he muttered. "Lately." After a moment's hesitation, he shucked his jeans off. "Lot more."
She half-growled, then. "I'm not worth your damn lungs, Reilly. I'd throw the damn packs out if I could reach at the moment." Jace brightened a little. "Oooh, cute boxers."
"... I need to do laundry."
"You're messy as hell," she said affectionately. "C'mere."
Turning obediently, he moved to sit next to her again. "I know," he muttered, "I'm a lousy housekeeper."
"It's cute, in a filthy, germy way." She flopped on him cheerfully, her weight ironing him back on the bed. "Oh, thank God for human company."
Reflexively, he hugged her close. His eyes were concerned, though, as his hands stroked lightly over her back. "You were miserable."
"Miserable's one word for it." She buried her face in his neck, dark hair brushing his chin and her voice muffled as one hand searched blindly for his. "So were you."
When he finally answered her, long fingers twined with hers, his voice was barely coherent, husky and choked. "Yeah, I was."
She raised her head again to look down into his eyes, dark and grey and still carrying the sharp shade of hurt. "I'm so sorry, Jack. So so sorry."
Though his own eyes shone strangely, he offered her the ghost of one of his lop-sided smiles. "No worries, Jace. You're back. All good."
"I hope so." She wormed and wriggled on him until she was comfortable, hands on his shoulders. "Really hope so."
"Know so. We'll make it."
Jace smiled, lopsidedly, reaching down to pop an affectionate kiss on his mouth. "We?"
"Yeah, well... You don't think I'd let you go alone, huh? You're my best friend, Jace. I..." He reached up to stroke her hair back from her face, hardly noticing the color change as he met her eyes. "I love you," he finished in a whisper.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek, even though she was grinning, landing wet and warm on his chin. "Hormones," she apologized. "Oh, shit, Reilly. I never would've asked you to, to come this far with me. I love you back. You know that, okay? Always?"
"Yeah, Jace. I know it." Sighing softly, he shifted until he could work the blanket over them and hugged her close. "Just get some sleep, huh? Tomorrow's another day."
"Okay." She curled up against his chest and paused. "Jacks? Sophie never came here with Perdix, right?"
There was a slight hesitation and he stroked her back to distract her as he thought. Finally, he shook his head. "Nope, Sophie's been but not Perdix."
"... Okay." She relaxed noticeably against him. I can sleep easy. They won't come for him, no... "Go to sleep, Reilly. Oh, and kiss me goodnight."
"'Course, Jace." Carefully, he shifted and lifted her chin with a gentle hand. "Promise to sleep well, huh? It'll all work out." Smiling, lop-sided but certain, Jack ducked his head to press his mouth to hers lightly.
She bumped her mouth against his, clumsy and like a brush of moth's wings, but then she parted her lips and kissed him hard. She quickly and roughly tasted the warm wet cigarette smoke of his mouth, one hand on the back of the back of his head in case he felt like pulling away, and then she took it down to wipe her tears off his cheeks with her fingers. It'll work out. I'm keeping my promise, I am.
"Jesus," she said gloomily, wiping her own eyes. "I feel like a fuckin' sissy saline factory."
Slightly stunned at the fervency of her returned kiss, Jack merely pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. "Sshh, Jace, sshh," he whispered. "Nothing wrong with crying."
"Yeah, there is," she muttered, curling into him. "I feel like such a stupid wuss. I never ever used to cry, Reilly. Shut me up. Please."
Nodding, he adjusted his hold on her, easing her onto her back, head on the pillow he'd found somewhere in honor of her stay, so that he was on his side, half-hovering over her. "Nah, I like hearing you," he murmured as he idly brushed her hair from her eyes. "I've missed you, Jace. Lots." Smiling faintly, he dragged a forefinger down the bridge of her nose. "Talk all you want. I'll listen."
"Talk, talk, talk." Jace closed her eyes. "That's all I've been doing. Talking in my head. It's no good." She let out a sigh. "Is giving your life for someone else a, a gift?"
Jack was silent for a long time, green eyes alert and searching her face carefully. Then, feather light, he ducked down to kiss her forehead. "Sometimes," he breathed. "Sometimes it's the best gift, the most... True one, I guess." He paused and tilted to press his forehead to hers, eyes closing. "Sometimes, though... I think it's the most selfish thing to do."
"Yeah." Her eyes opened, hand reaching up to touch his white forelock. "Yeah. You... You shouldn't give gifts to people that they can't refuse. It's like the goddamn Godfather." Jace shook her head violently. "I hate him, I hate him, Mr. I'm Going To Seduce You And I'm Leaving On Friday So Who Cares About A Condom And... new topic."
Nodding, the lanky brunette again altered their position, hugging her close and rolling onto his back so that her head rested on his shoulder. "... Got a new name for the comic," he offered in his best casual voice.
"Really?" She tilted her head up, eyes twinkling in amusement. "What's it this time?"
"Life's A Bitch."
"Topical and rough. I like it."
"Yeah, it's got a ring to it, huh?"
"Mom wants to read it the moment you're done, you know."
"Huh." Jack shifted slightly under her, stretching. "When's their fiftieth anniversary?"
"You have nineteen years. Hop to it."
"Eh, the first issue's gotta be done by then, right?"
"It better. I have to see you a famous comic artist before I die, you know."
Jack chuckled, a low rumble deep in his chest. "And, if I never get there, then you just have to stick around, huh?"
She curled her face into his neck. "Come on, Reilly! I wanna be interviewed! 'Yes, I knew Jacks as a young man... He often went around in just his boxers around me. Yes, he drew me naked. Then the Titanic sank...'"
Raising a hand, he wiggled his thumb at her. "After this broke off. Don't forget that bit, huh? Anyway, I've never drawn anyone naked."
"Wanna?"
"Huh?"
"Draw someone naked."
A shifting beneath her indicated a classic Jack shrug, meaningful and yet meaningless.
"That's my Jack." She gave an affectionate sigh, butting his chin with the top of her head. "You never do dirty things."
"... Not really anymore. Not much." He wrapped his arms around her more securely.
"There's a distinct lack of goths and back seats, anyway."
"Yeah... Hey, Jace? Don't ever do anything in a back seat. Too small. No room." Positioned as she was, she couldn't see it but the tone in his voice was amused; he was smiling.
"Not for me. I haven't got any legs to be in the way." She walked her fingers over the blanket, down to one of his hips, laughing. "You, Reilly, you're a backseat and a half. Talk about getting cramped."
He squirmed slightly, laughing faintly at her touch. "Careful. Tickles some."
She tickled her fingers there mercilessly. "I declare, Jackson Reilly, you're tickly all over."
Trying to grab her hand, he laughed. "I'm not. You've just got tickly hands, I guess."
She tucked his arm around her waist and curled back down into her former position. "... I missed you, Reilly. We'll talk tomorrow morning, right? Bet mom'll give us waffles if you heroically bring me back to the bosom of my family."
"Mmm, that'd be nice." Comfortably, Jack pulled the blankets up over them again and closed his eyes; it had been a long day and he was tired... But Jace was back. That made everything worth it. "Your mom makes... the best... waffles," his voice trailed off in a yawn and, slowly, his muscles relaxed, exhausted and soon asleep.
She tucked her head under his, listening to him breathe, listening to the sounds of the city around them and listening for any footsteps that might mean sudden, gruesome death. You didn't cross the Dark Universe. She knew that well enough already.
But any kind of urge Jace had had to sneak out after Jack had fallen asleep had died stillborn. No. No more leaving. She closed her eyes, thoughts already fogging, completely emptied out. Waffles. Jack. Love. Tomorrow was another day.