jamais_etre | Welcome to your new life.

Welcome to your new life.

Jack had woken up nearly a day later to a head-splitting headache. Forgetting where he was, he moaned in annoyance and pressed his head deeply into the pillows on the bed. It hurt terribly, and when he tried to recall why, nothing clear was coming to him.

He had been with Oz, and then he had gone to the opera, and then he-

He had met Glen and Lacie. Lacie.

What had happened then?

He kept his head deep in the pillows, hiding his face so that he could barely breathe and let himself cry. It was soft and brief, but needed. It had little to do with the the pain, but had everything to do with the glimpses of the past events that he could remember. Glen was hurt. Lacie had gotten angry. She had cried. It only lasted a few minutes, because Jack was more getting more frustrated now. He couldn't remember everything, only small details. Had all of that really happened?

He didn't move and kept his face hidden away in the pillow. It was unfamiliar. The pillow. The smell. Smelling. Breathing. Being alive again in this body.

It felt like coming home in a way. Home was where ever Lacie was. No, paradise was where ever Lacie was.

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Lacie, who'd been dozing in a chair by the bedside, is stirred to wakefulness by the moan. She leans forward, studying Jack. She thinks she catches a sound: maybe a breath, maybe a sob... It's hard to tell, with him pressed into the pillows. Nonetheless, she moves to sit on the mattress, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, the touch far gentler than some people who've come to know the fierce woman, here, might expect.

"It's alright, Jack," she whispers, not knowing if he's conscious enough to hear her. Her fingers wander, touching his unbound hair. "You're not alone."

Edited 2012-09-16 05:21 (UTC)

Jack stiffed at the first touch on his shoulder, but then he relaxed when he heard that voice. He felt fingers in his un-braided hair and a soft and quiet noise escaped him.

He turned, doing his best not to let the back of his head rest knowing the pressure on the wound would not be comfortable. Lacie was sitting beside him, and when his eyes met hers, he sat up slowly, never letting his eyes tear away as they grew wider. She was so very close to him. He felt his words catch in his throat.

Jack's head was pounding, and his thoughts were still unclear. His eyes were wet and his cheeks a bit pink. There were no thoughts beyond his life's purpose sitting before him.

Lacie. He was so close to her- so close. He could no longer tell if the pounding was in his head or in his heart, and he couldn't say anything for his hands that were now shaking.

Lacie's breath catches at that small sound, her hand falling away as he sits up. She knows this look: as if he were a mirror, simply reflecting her. She worries, now that she's seen how far that reflection drives him. Reaching up, she does for him what he'd done for her, the day before, wiping away his tears.

"Jack... It's alright." she says. Her hand moves up, brushing very lightly against the bandages she'd wound around the crown of his head. "I should change your bandages. You... You got hurt, do you remember?"

He leans into her gentle touch and closes his eyes, his face at complete peace once again until she inquires about his memories.

His brow knits as more images flash across his mind.

"Is Oswa-Is Glen well?" he opened his emerald eyes to her and searched them. He could place now that it hadn't been Oswald, but his mind wasn't clear enough yet to panic about his presence in this new world once more. He was too busy relishing in Lacie's presence.

"Lacie, I-" his words were caught again.

What was worth saying to her now? She was so close to him now. Touching him. She felt so real, and it made him so powerless.

Lacie snorts.

"He's fine. I cleaned him off and bandaged him up, and sent him home to Gilbert and Alice." She gives a bitter little smirk. "If he weren't a Baskerville, the idiot would've gotten himself killed before last night. So much for always beating me at chess."

Scarlet eyes close wearily a moment. She hasn't left this room, since her brother had gone home. When Jack's words catch, she opens them again, sighing and pulling him close in a hug that he very much seems to need.

"He'll get better. Even if he had died, people don't stay that way, here."

Jack wasn't sure what she was going on about, but when she hugged him close, it didn't matter what she had been saying.

He could die then in that moment. That would be fine. Maybe the future didn't matter or the past. Maybe this world or that world or where and what time he was in didn't matter. Maybe only this mattered.

His very reason for living and dying- for breathing and dreaming- she was showing him such affection. He took in her scent and her warmth. What had he done to deserve all of this of her? Had she gotten bored? Was she just grateful?

He can hear her heartbeat now with how close she is.

"You're real," and from his words, his lips are dangerously close to her skin.

-Ah. His head hurt so terribly much. Could he be allowed to stay like this? He wouldn't be the first to break away.

She gives a quiet breath of a laugh.

"'Course I'm real!" she says, making her tone light and teasing, trying not to be distracted by the feel of his breath against her skin. "I told you, last night, it's all real."

After several long moments, she finally pushes him gently back.

"I really should change your bandages... If you'll wait here a minute, I'm going to get fresh water. You've got a gash in the back of your head, and it should probably be cleaned again."

She points to the door at the other end of the room.

"I'll be just in there."

Jack smiled when she laughed, and the smile didn't leave him even as she pulled away.

"I can't quite remember the events of last night," he admitted easily, still smiling.

It was thoughtful of her to promise her return and point out where she was going. If she was real, then the chance of losing her again forever was rather high.

When she left, Jack moved on the bed so that he could slide off into a standing position rather easily. The room was a nice size for a bedroom, but it wasn't a room in the Baskerville masnion he'd ever seen. The wallpaper wasn't one he was familiar with. No, he hadn't a clue where he was at all.

He planted his feet on the floor and pushed up into a standing position that lasted only seconds before he abruptly sat back down. His limbs were functioning fine, but the moment he'd stood, he'd felt a dizzy spell that was sure to send him face first into the carpet if he hadn't sat back down so quickly. It was only now that he realized that his injury must have included a concussion. That would also explain the headache and why he couldn't remember last night well.

While Lacie was gone, he removed his jacket and set it on the other side of the bed, careful not to let it fall where the red was staining the bedding. All of that blood hadn't of been his. Oswald? No, Glen.

What had Lacie just said? People don't stay that way here.

People don't stay dead? Is that why Lacie was with him? If Lacie died, would she just come back to life as though nothing had happened?

He'd ask when she returned. Surely he could trust her

Lacie remains silent, in regard to the night before. For now, maybe it's better he doesn't remember. She comes back a moment later, with a clean cloth and a washbasin of hot water. Setting it down on the bedside table, she starts to unwrap the bandages around his head.

"I had to cut away some of your hair, last night." She pauses a moment to run a lock of it through her fingers. "You've got so much of it, though, it probably won't look much different, once it's all braided again."

When the bandages are gone, she reaches for the cloth and dips it into the water.

"Lean forward a little... This'll probably sting."

Her fingers through his hair is unfamiliar, but it feels nice, and it does well to relax his nerves at least.

"I'm glad you were the one to cut it," he smiled happily. He wasn't worried about his hair, and if anyone was to cut it, it'd only be her. Had she understood? It hadn't been cut since their first meeting so long ago.

Jack does as she says and leans forward so she can see and reach the wound, but before he does he gives her a smile and a wink, "I'm awfully lucky to have such a cute nurse."

He was improving if he was already casually teasing her.

Edited 2012-09-18 02:58 (UTC)

She returns a grin, herself, giving his shoulder a light, playful shove. This in and of itself is telling of how at ease she always felt, with Jack--if it had been anyone else, she would have probably thrown something.

"There's nothing cute about me!" she says with a mock-offended sniff. "I am a fierce and frightening Child of Misfortune. Not cute at all!"

Carefully, she moves the blond locks aside and starts to clean the wound. Lacie has never been a sentimental person (when she could help it), and so the significance of his long, long hair has not yet occurred to her (~~but that's exactly what her mun always thought! :-D~~).

Jack's heart practically did leap at the shove. She was enjoying her time with him. He was making her happy.

At her words, Jack only laughed good-naturedly. He could have gone on and on about all of the cute things about her. Her smile. Her nose. The expression she gave when she was pouting. Or the one she gave when she was surprised. Or . . . There were too many physical features to say and to go beyond them would take Jack hours to list.

He didn't complain about the pain from the wound or the seemingly permanent headache, but he did want to know what had happened to cause them. Still, he wouldn't ask. Suppose she didn't want to talk about it, and would then wish to leave? He couldn't risk her leaving. He couldn't risk being without her.

"Oswald isn't cute- you however, seemed to have inherited all the cute features he is so lacking in," Jack continued the light-hearted joke, because it was easier to do than face the real issues that needed to be discussed . . . or the situation . . . or the things he'd done . . . or the reasons why.

Ah, but it might not have been the whole truth. Sometimes Oswald was cute . . . sometimes even on par with Lacie, but only if several chicks had decided to make the top of his head with his soft dark strands their nest. Yes, only then was he on par with Lacie's cuteness.

He smiled through the pain. Cleaning the wound really wasn't so bad. It was the headache that was frustrating.

"Fierce," Lacie repeats resolutely, "and frightening."

Finished, she starts winding fresh bandages back into place, then moves back a bit to survey her work.

"I think that's about as good as it's going to get, for now... If you lean on me, do you think you could make it to the kitchens, or should I bring something here? Because I don't know about you, but after last night I could eat a horse!"

While the use of a Chain draws on Lacie's life-force just as it would any Contractor, the aftereffect of it, for her, tends to manifest as hunger more often than physical fatigue. But then, much like her dark-haired daughter, Lacie is often hungry anyway.

Jack smiles at the expression of eating a horse, because it places an image in his head that makes him chuckle.

He didn't feel hungry at all, but he was awfully thirsty. Maybe he would be hungry once he saw and smelled the food, or maybe he just didn't have an appetite. Having grown up on very little, Jack didn't need much food to keep him going and fell into the philosophy of one who eats to live rather than the many members of the gentry that lived to eat. He despised them for it sometimes, but Lacie and Oswald were never like that.

"I can try," he was smiling, but admitting that he might not be able to. He worried that he might need her support even just to stand. He wasn't sure of the size of the house, but making it all the way to the kitchen sounded like a daunting task at the moment. If Lacie asked it of him though, he could manage one way or another.

He slid his feet to the floor once more and took a long moment to steady himself when he stood up. Confident he wouldn't fall, he put his hands on his hips and stood triumphantly, "Ta-da!"

The Vessalius smiled brilliantly in his blouse and pants with his bandaged head and his loose blonde hair falling every which way. He looked like a mess, and his head was still threatening to send him crashing back into bed, but he was with Lacie so the condition of himself or the situation didn't matter if he was still actually with her.

Lacie laughs despite herself at his stance, coming forward and looping an arm through one of his. That's one of the thing's she's always liked about Jack--sometimes against her better judgement: sometimes, he can be such a boy.

"My hero," she says, with wry amusement. "Now comes the hard part."

Upon bringing Jack to the Mansion, the night before, the siblings had taken him to the closest bedroom they could find. As such, there were no stairs to negotiate, just a journey from the west wing of the house to the kitchens, in the back of it. Lacie lets him lean on her and doesn't rush.

"How's your head?" she asks. Despite having a look at the outside of it, she has no idea what it feels like on the inside.

Jack is okay to walk at first, but once they make it to the hallway he leans against the wall a minute with a tired smile, "Just a lot of dizzy spells."

He's making light of it. No, he won't even mention the headache that remains ever constant but only sometimes threatens to break his head in two. There wasn't anything Lacie could do about it.

"And I can't quite remember last night," he offers again, but without asking to hear more on it. This time Jack takes her arm, and leans on her again as they continue on their way towards the kitchen.

Just a concussion. Most didn't have lasting side-effects, but this one might. Only time would tell. His headache and dizzy spells should be all but gone in about a week or so though.

Edited 2012-09-19 06:23 (UTC)

She waits with him as he leans against the wall, patiently. She's silent, mulling over the night before until the wave of dizziness passes. As they start down the hallway again, she takes a breath, having reached a conclusion. He's going to find out eventually, anyway.

"There was a fight, last night. You met my brother at the Opera House, and the two of you argued. You thought this place was an illusion... When I came outside and found the two of you, you thought I was, too. You attacked my brother with your Chain..."

She trails off, glancing at him as they walk, mouth turning down with a hint of sternness. Even if she's already forgiven Jack for it, the memory still stirs an echo of the anger she'd felt.

"I couldn't let you do that, Jack. So, I called mine... I'm the reason you're hurt."

Lacie is not the sort of person who often feels guilt--especially when defending one of the few she cares about. However, given that she also cares for Jack, she can't help a twinge.

Her words swim around in his head a little bit, which wasn't ideal considering it was making the headache angry once more. Yes, from the pieces he could recall, what Lacie was saying made sense. He could remember being angry with Glen's words. He could remember hurting Glen.

Lacie's change in tone is noted by Jack immediately. She was angry with him for trying to get rid of Glen. That's right though; he hadn't thought either of them were real to begin with last night anyway.

Jack stopped her and pulled away. The headache was causing another dizzy spell, but instead of pausing to lean against the wall he moved to the floor and bent down on one knee. He took Lacie's hand and held it in his, his other hand going to the wall for a brief moment of support as he adjusted to the position. He appeared before her now looking very much like a knight on bended knee. At least the position was easier than standing. He wondered if Lacie knew a good cure for headaches, because he couldn't recall what Miranda had prescribed so long ago.

Jack's empty green eyes peered into her and he smiled as he asked, "But you and he are real, correct? And this world is something separate from our own?" He had been too panicked to listen yesterday, and realizing that scared him a little bit. Glen and Lacie had likely been telling the truth all along, but Glen . . . he wouldn't accept everything Glen said, because there was the chance that it was just his reality and not what Lacie truly felt. Jack was rather confident in his ability to understand Lacie, so he was sure that not everything Glen had said had been true.

As soon as she spoke he would know the truth. He could always tell when someone was lying, but Jack didn't waste energy berating himself for ignoring the signs yesterday. It couldn't be helped now. If it was the case, though, he certainly owed both of them an apology.

It was also clear to Jack that Lacie was leaving some things out, but it was enough that she cleared up at least that much.

Edited 2012-09-20 06:55 (UTC)

"Jack..."

A flash of concern enters her eyes as he pulls away, and she clasps his hand back when he takes it, ready to move and support him if he looks as if he's about to fall over. As angry as she'd been the night before, she doesn't like seeing Jack hurt, and she doesn't want to see him hurt worse. The sternness goes out of her expression, something almost gentle taking its place.

She nods at his question.

"Of course we're real. And... yes, it's a different world. It brings us all from different times in our old lives. Almost everyone's here, and people from years after I died... Even more than one."

She gives a small smile.

"I've met about four of you, since I woke up here. You're the fifth. There's even a Jack here who'd never even met me."

Jack watches and listens intently, noticing the movements of her eyes and the change in her expression. No, she isn't lying.

The small smile, however brief, is something he'll treasure. That single gesture of kindness and perhaps even forgiveness is something that would last him weeks of happiness if it meant going without seeing her anytime soon.

When she said she'd met four other versions of himself, he went pale. Four? There were four other Jacks just wandering around this world? He felt suddenly conflicted, and it made his headache worse. Lacie didn't seem bothered by it. Did it not matter to her? Why should it matter? It shouldn't matter; should it?

He had no interest in meeting himself. In theory, it might be fun, but he wouldn't want the other version of himself sticking around for any lengthy period of time. That wouldn't do. -and Lacie knowing all of them. She-

Jack closed his eyes. The headache was getting much worse and without realizing it, he let go of her hand. Was he standing or kneeling? Had he been sitting? It didn't matter now, because he was falling. It wasn't a long way to fall, but he still landed on his side. He was conscious, but in that brief moment, he just couldn't keep himself up.

To Lacie, he could have dropped for many reasons since Jack had said nothing. Maybe he couldn't handle the fact that he was stuck here? Maybe he couldn't understand how this was all real? Or maybe, he couldn't face that he was jealous of Lacie knowing another Jack that wasn't him?

"Jack!"

Even as he falls, she moves to help catch him, keeping his head from colliding with the floor as gently as she can. She is indeed in the dark as to what's stolen his strength, this way, and under the calm she's trying to maintain, it panics her. She hates not knowing things, especially when it involves someone she cares about.

Is it that he needs food, after all? Does he need water? Was it too much exertion to ask of him, this soon after waking? Jealousy doesn't register as a possibility. Of the Jacks she's met, only two of them have appeared more than once: one of them, the one who'd nearly destroyed this world and died to stop the destruction for her sake. The other had come from a world where she and her brother had been lovers, not siblings, and it had been Glen that Jack had met and fallen for, long after her death.

She leans over him, pillowing his head carefully and unable to keep the worry from her eyes.

"What's the matter?"

Ah, her hands are in his hair again, even if only to catch him, and it feels nice. He sits up slowly and smiles softly, "Ah ha! It seems my cute nurse has excellent reflexes. I'm impressed."

He only fell to test them, obviously.

His body relaxes while his head pounds away. She had said she was hungry . . .

"How much further is the kitchen?"

Lacie blinks, surprised at his recovery, then gives a small laugh. She knows he's making light of things, that he would never do something to scare her on purpose. But she also knows that, if it were her, the last thing she'd want was someone fretting...

"It's not far," she says. Settling back on her knees, she regards him thoughtfully. "Can you make it?" She gives a little smile, trying to turn this into something fun. "If you want, I could go and bring some things back. We could have a picnic right here in the hallway."

Reaching out, she fluffs a bit of his blond hair, deliberately making it a touch more messy.

"What do you think?"

It reminds him of when they'd first met, and he smiles genuinely for her. He's getting too used to her hands in his hair. If she makes a habit of it when he is ill, he'll miss it when he is well. When she does it again, his expression is almost one of a pleased little puppy.

"A picnic in the hallway sounds grand, thank you," he says softly. It would be nice to just relax there on the carpet. Maybe he could open one of the nearby rooms and see if it were a sitting room. Even if it were a sitting room, though, he'd remain on the floor. Still, a cushion of some sort would be nice to rest his head on.

He would have felt bad for wanting to stay behind from walking to the kitchen, but Lacie was too perfect in dealing with him. She always seemed to know what to say and how to react. Maybe Lacie knew him better than he knew himself, which wouldn't be saying too much, because Jack didn't really know himself all that well to begin with.

Maybe he'd pay her that compliment one day. Right now, he only smiled and assured her, "I'll be here when you return."

He didn't need much. Water, really, and maybe an orange as a sort of comfort food, but he didn't feel hungry. He didn't request anything, because he knew his nurse would most certainly bring water.

"I'll be fine, Lacie. Go ahead."

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Thanks again!

No problem! ^_^

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1/2

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/agreed agreed

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aaaa, sorry for the slow, been a bit ill today

Please concentrate on feeling better~!

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cuuute