Author's Note:I've had this story for a while, but now I can actually put it up since I've finally put up the other story that this makes sense...kind of. I like making Tom frustrated. Jackie belongs to me. Sebs belongs to Faintly Falling. And blah, blah, blah...

Knocking. Knocking. Someone's at the door. Dammit, Sebs, why don't you get the door? It's kind of loud you know. Don't you hear it? The knocking…it's persistent isn't it? How can you stand it?

Oh wait…Sebs isn't here. So…who's at the door? Obviously someone with a reason to be here by the sound of it. Persistence usually means purpose…I think.

Sebs said somebody would come by. I have something to give them…a thing. Things? I think he said that. What is it? What am I giving them? Sebs said…Sebs said a lot of things. Knocking. Shit. The door.

"Coming," Tom finally calls over his thoughts and motivating himself by some unknown force of will to get off the couch he'd been lounging on, albeit reluctantly. Don't be fooled though. He wants to go out like any normal person. Be around people, see what it's like out in the world of the regular people, but he knows better. That's not good for anyone. The going out that is. Not for him. Not for society. He's been told so. He'd tried the "going out" thing, but more often then not it just left him feeling frustrated and unsatisfied.

The couch is slightly overstuffed but comfortable, and he's half considering just getting back on it and ignoring the door. Act like nothing even happened. More knocking.

"I said I'm coming!" Tom calls again, this time sounding more irritated than Tom thought he was. He was surprising himself today. He didn't like that one little bit. He was supposed to be in charge of his behavior now. Not his behaviors in charge of him. That would be a step in the wrong direction and after all this time…what a waste.

More knocking. He grimaces, which admittedly looks a little odd on someone with essentially half a face to express it on. People have no patience. Finally, he manages to get the door, rolling up the sleeves on the flannel shirt he's wearing over a plain t-shirt. It was colder before, but he suddenly feels warm and uncomfortable even though he'd been feeling rather comfortable previously. Maybe it means something. He opens the door swiftly and steps just out of the range of the hinged thing, and in the doorway…

Jesus! Sebs, why do you insist on-

"Hey, Tom," a familiar voice cuts in. Interrupting a thought without even realizing it. Tom focuses his attention on the girl in the doorway, brunette, smiling, friendly, but his tongue is pressed up against his teeth to keep himself from blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. Sebs…why? The man's stomach is in his feet, but somehow he manages to keep a straight face. Tom's never been so grateful for medicated calmness before in his life. Not that he's had any reason to be thankful for it before or that he's ever had to have been medicated in any other previous points in his life. Not that he can remember anyway. Whatever the specifics, he's glad that there's a sedative in the pills the doctors gave him for his…illness. Otherwise this would have been so much more unpleasant. Not that is wasn't an unpleasant enough surprise as it is.

"Jackie…nice to see you," he squeezes out sticking one hand into the pocket of his jeans. It feels awkward, but he's too nervous to remove it, awkwardly picking at the lint inside. It's a friendly greeting on the surface, but the urge to slam the door shut in this girl's face is almost too strong for him to resist. Still, he won't do that even if he wants to. Tom is a gentleman, or at least he tries to be. Gentlemen do not slam doors in the faces of young ladies. But good God…why'd it have to be this one? "Sebs…he uh…mentioned you were coming by."

She's staring. Why is she staring? Why does she have to do that damn staring thing? She already knows I'm weird.Tom's heart is pounding in his ears. Fuck, she can probably hear it.Had it not been for medication he probably would have reacted on impulse rather than looking like a deer in headlights…albeit a deer with one eye. Wide-eyed and backed into a corner.

"Mhm," Jackie smiles. She seems genuinely amused, and Tom feels his shoulders start to relax…when had he hunched them? "He said you had something for me…" There's something in her tone of voice. What does she mean by that? Is she implying…something? What did you do? Tom knows he must look on edge because Jackie seems to notice something and readjusts her posture. She's trying to look less imposing, but Tom isn't buying it. "Some paperwork he took home to finish," she clarifies. "He said I could come by to pick it up." She's giving him the "what's with you?" look and Tom wants to just bang his head against the wall for being so stupid.

"Oh…oh, yeah, right…that," Tom replies, the words coming out awkwardly. Choppy. You idiot! Why had he started assuming things? Meds were supposed to be dealing with the paranoia. What the hell was this then? "I uh…" No, not me! I'm not anything. "They're…" he says more deliberately sounding like he's trying to explain a difficult or intricate concept. "The paperwork is…uh…on the kitchen table. One sec…" Tom hurries away from the door, only now that his back is turned from the girl letting his emotions show on his face, his features contorting awkwardly in embarrassment. Shit…he must have sounded like a complete moron. Why do I even care what I sound like? What does she care? She probably doesn't. Shit.

It all comes back to him now once he's in the kitchen, the different lighting almost like a literal representation of the light bulb turning on in his head. Sebs told him. Someone coming by from work to pick up some paperwork he had to finish, but he was going to be out. Might have mentioned where, but Tom can't remember. It's on the kitchen table. The papers are. Not Sebs. Didn't tell him who was coming to get them. Probably on purpose. What the hell, Sebs?

Tom quickly grabs the papers, trying not to grip them too tightly and wrinkle them or get too much of his finger prints on it though he knows the thought is ridiculous, and turns back around. He freezes. Deer in headlights. Jackie's not at the door anymore. Where…? She's in the living room. What's she doing actually in here? Oh, but can he even throw her out? No, he's a gentleman. She's not doing anything in particular, but he still wants her out. He'll be polite about it…if he can keep himself from completely flipping out. Either reaction had equal weight at the moment.

"Here ya go," he says, extending the papers away from his body like they're diseased. The girl takes them and starts going over them. Slowly…painfully. C'mon, c'mon… She's finished and looks satisfied. Thank the powers that be.

"Everything seems to be in order." Tom nods his head, perhaps a little too eagerly. Yes, yes, that means you can go now. "So, this is Sebs' place, eh? Funny…I expected more…" Jackie begins, placing the papers down on the coffee table. Oh, God…she's engaging me in conversation. Shit. Don't panic.

"Gay? Evidence of how anal he is?" Tom ventures, voice flat. He hopes this will be enough to satisfy the woman's curiosity. Perhaps with it sated she'll go.

"Maybe," Jackie laughs, and Tom feels his body once more ease up on the tension. She thought he was funny. I hope I am… "Mind if I look around a bit?"

Yes.

"Nah, it's fine." What was wrong with him? He can't even control his own tongue before words come out of his mouth. Stupid words too. This was not good. Tom watches the girl carefully as she moves around the room, looking at this and that. Acting so…normal. How do people do that? Her actions seem so…direct. Like she has some sort of plan. What's she getting at?"Don't you have plans?" Tom offers. Maybe she'll have some. Maybe she'll have something better to do and go. Leave him alone…somewhere in Tom's mind he doesn't want her to go, but that quickly gets sucker-punched by the rest of his thoughts. What am I? Crazy? Oh, wait…let me rephrase that.

"It's Saturday," Jackie shrugs, not sounding at all bothered by his sudden question and it's implication of 'please, get out'. In fact, it's almost like she's actively ignoring it with her calmness. Tom would be agitated if he weren't so confused. Women were confusing to begin with, but this just made it about a thousand times worse. Being made to interact with someone on their terms instead of his own…his skills in that area were, to put it nicely, rusty.

"Yeah…" Tom replies dumbly. Normally he would be annoyed with himself for sounding like that, but all he wants now is to be left to think. To remind himself of what a colossal idiot he is for actually attempting to engage socially with another human. Oh well, there was still time to politely shove Jackie out the door and still have time for the appropriate amount of self-hatred. "But I mean…sometimes people have plans on Saturday. Seeing friends…hanging out, doing whatever…something…I mean, not that I have any plans or anything." Stop talking. Why can't I stop talking? Just shut up already.

"Nope, I don't have any plans. You want to make plans?" Excuse me? "I could hang out with you if you want. I imagine you're bored out of your mind hanging around here all day."

Tom's eye goes wide, and for a moment he forgets that he only has one. "No, no…I mean…I'm busy…things to do. Umm…groceries. Yeah, those…told Sebs I'd go do…that. I mean…I don't have time because of well…yeah, groceries…those are pretty important…time consuming…"

Jackie stares at him for a moment or two, expression a mixture of confused, curious, and perceptive. "Tom, you said you didn't have plans," she says, arching a brow and giving the man a look that makes him want to hide under the couch. He'd forgotten that she didn't buy his bullshit.

"I lied," he blurts out, instantly looking down at the floor. "I mean…I didn't lie…I…ok, I lied." Jackie's face doesn't change, but her hands go to her hips and Tom can tell she's thinking. Do your hands have to go on your hips when you're thinking? Tom looks up but doesn't make eye contact. Instead he stares at the girl's mouth. Waiting for whatever malice filled response she has prepared.

"Well, at least you admit it, but you know what liars have to do?" Tom shakes his head, but he can tell he doesn't like the sound of it. At least she doesn't sound nearly as peeved as he thought she would. Maybe this won't be too bad. "Liars have to tell me five truths." He thought too soon. "It's only fair. Lying isn't a very nice thing to do." She's got an overtly parenting voice on and it's just so deliberate that Tom feels like he's a little kid again. Scolded for stealing someone's crayons or something stupid like that.

"Uhh…" Tom can't even find proper words to express his discomfort. Taking in a slow breath he continues as if the air will inflate him and boost his confidence. "I can do that. It's easy. Real easy. My name is Tom. I have one eye. I don't-"

"Not like that," Jackie interrupts lifting her hand in a half-assed 'stop' gesture. The confidence that had started to work its way onto Tom's face quickly falls away as the hand invades the space around his nose. Right between the eyes. Now what? "I have to choose what the truths are. You did lie to me after all. That's the rules."

"That's not fair. I'm not a teenager. I don't play truth or dare," Tom retorts defensively. He'd cross his arms over his chest, but that wouldn't do much for his argument of not being a child. You're such a stupidhead. No fair.

"Ok, fine, if you don't want to tell me the truth then you have to let me do one thing of my choice."

"Sure, what do you want?" Tom replies a little too quickly. Just one thing? Easy. Or not so easy depending on what it is…

"Let me see your room," Jackie finally smirks. It's a devious smirk. Tom wants to smack it off her, but he resists. Why does she insist on pushing me?

"My room?"

"You heard me," she says more sternly. Tom is about to protest, but he remembers it wouldn't do any good. He furrows his brow. I told you she was up to something. Oh,shut up.

"Maybe we could do the truth thing again, yeah?" he tries though weakly since he already knows the answer. It's written all over Jackie's smug expression.

"Nope, no go backs. Sorry, Tom."

"Fine," Tom sighs, looking defeated, raising his eye to meet Jackie's gaze briefly at last. He doesn't like how it feels and quickly turns in the direction of his room. Quietly he leads Jackie to the back room of Sebs' apartment. It'd taken some time to take all the junk out Sebs had been storing in it, but now it had been turned into Tom's residence. Can't live on my own, and I have no one else.Walking in Tom remembered how lucky he was to have someone willing to put up with him. Someone to put up with all his stupid, crazy, shit. I should thank Sebs…

"So this is your room?" the woman asks. Tom opens his mouth to answer the question but then he realizes the question is rhetorical. Well, YEAH. Who else could this room belong to?He keeps the sarcasm to himself. He's learned that his sarcasm isn't nearly as funny as he originally thought it to be. At least not as funny to other people as it was to himself.

Jackie mulls around the room, picking up a few things, contemplating the poster of Elvis on the wall and the small wooden giraffe stuck in one corner. I like giraffes. Giraffes are neat. Tom hadn't noticed before, but his room looks something like the room of both a teenage boy and a person from the fifties. An explosion of what seemed to be conflicting interests. It's never happened before, but he's suddenly embarrassed by its appearance. Like it can't possibly be good enough for anyone to see let alone a girl. He wants to show Jackie the door even more so than previously, but before he can she speaks up.

"I like it. It's pretty…unique."

"You really think so?" He realizes he must be making some sort of face because Jackie stifles a small laugh. Fortunately he hears enough of it to know it's not one of spite, but rather, genuine amusement. Was he doing something silly? He must have been if she was laughing.

"Yep," Jackie nods, taking a seat on the bed. Tom's stomach is back down in his feet as if there were some big stomach magnet in the floor. There's a girl on his bed. The butterflies feel more like wasps. Dammit…what's she doing? Is she trying to upset me? No…she can't be. She doesn't know. She doesn't know what she's getting into."Come on. Sit next to me." Jackie's smiling, and it doesn't look devious, just friendly. Tom hesitates, but slowly allows himself to sit down. He's on the edge, not quite next to the brunette, but close enough to suggest it. A safe distance. "Something the matter?" Tom winces. Is it that obvious? He wants to remain silent, but she's giving him that look that he knows will persist until he gives some sort of answer. And no more lying. That clearly doesn't work with this girl.

"I uh…haven't had a girl in my bed in a long time. Actually, never in this one. Just…it feels weird. I usually have my bed to myself."

"Well, that's a damn shame," Jackie laughs. Tom snaps his attention to her. It takes a little extra effort. She's sitting on his right side. What's so funny? Is she implying something or just making small talk? "Oh, Tom, please lighten up. I'm only messing with you." Tom's expression doesn't change. He just continues to stare at the girl, looking hurt. "Ah, quit making that face. You're making me feel bad."

"Sorry, I just…" Tom trails off and stares for a moment more before turning his gaze to his feet. "Nothing. Forget it. I'm sorry. I feel like an idiot. I was just…assuming…things. Look it's not you. I'm just a bit mixed up…you know…in my head." Tom points to his skull, still not looking up. Mixed up in his head…that wasn't exactly a medical phrase (medical terminology?), but it worked well enough. Served its purpose. Tom is mixed up in the head. Ill but not sick.

Jackie frowns. He isn't looking at her, but he can tell she is, and he feels bad. "Tom..." she begins in the borderline upset tone Tom had been expecting, but still the man doesn't look up. There's a pause. "Tom, look at me," she continues, voice becoming authoritative. Tom looks up slowly feeling deflated.Just tell me how wrong I am and get it over with. I kind of want to sulk in my own idiocy right now.However, Jackie doesn't look like she's about to yell at him. She looks thoughtful.

It seems like an eternity but she reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder, but as her fingers meet his shoulder Tom flinches and pulls away. She surprised him. One of the many downfalls to missing an eye. Can't really see too well, and it's not like one can really hear a hand moving slowly through the air. Usually. It just wasn't a pleasant feeling to know there was so much going on out of the range of one's vision.

"Oh, sorry about that," she says clearly realizing what she's done and bringing her hand to her mouth. She makes a loose fist and presses her knuckles into her teeth. Nervous habit? Perhaps.

"Nah, it's just…my shoulder's a bit sensitive. Old injury. I told you haven't I? Don't worry about it." His voice is quiet, but it's higher, almost panicky. He's never really discussed his scars with someone who wasn't a doctor or Sebs. He'd mentioned them in passing to Jackie, but that had been months ago.

"Same incident as your eye?" Jackie ventures. Tom doesn't respond verbally, but he turns his head to look at the door. Jackie is working her way into territory where she was not yet welcome, and Tom's not about to change his mind. Get out. But Jackie doesn't get out. She can't read Tom's mind, but somehow he feels like she should be able to understand his intent. Her persistent knocking…it makes sense now. She's just as persistent. "Can I see?"

"No." The word is sharp. Sudden like a reflex. However, Jackie doesn't back down. Fucking persistent. You know that?

"You lied. You owe me."

"I don't like this game."

"It's not a game. I'm serious. Let me see or I'll 'lose' this paperwork you were supposed to give me."

"That's fighting dirty," Tom replies, voice edged with annoyance and curiosity. She wouldn't…would she? Something tells Tom that she would. She's got that sort of serious joking tone that Tom believes is dangerous. He knows a thing or two about dangerous tones of voice.

"Well, you lie to me and I'll fight dirty." Tom grumbles but turns his back. If it will get her to stop trying to dig stuff up about him then so be it.

"Fine, look…but then I think I don't owe you anymore."

"Ok, deal."

Tom grits his teeth as the words come out. He wants to say no, but he realizes it's too late to really do much else. Resigned was probably the right word for it. Resigned to my fate.

Tom can feel Jackie push up the back of his shirt like doctors when they check for whatever it is they do when they put their icy stethoscopes on your skin and ask you to breathe deeply…Jackie's hands aren't nearly as cold, nor does she have a freezing metal tool in hand, but Tom still shies away when she lightly touches the small scars on his shoulder blade. He's become so unaccustomed to touch that almost anything seems like a violation, and the hairs on the back of his neck stick up like the hackles of a dog. Defensive.

"Whoa…" she says, words soft and whispered. Tom clenches his teeth and tries to ignore it. Touching…this is a different kind of touching than a doctor. Feels nice. It's investigative in a genuine way. A curious way. I don't want to be investigated. I gave you permission, but it doesn't mean I wantit…but maybe I do. I don't know. Tom feels agitation, but he ignores it. Despite his thoughts he almost enjoys the sensation. Almost.

Jackie's fingers trail down as if looking for something else to stare at, probably the fainter scars, and Tom is suddenly on his feet as the woman's hands go farther than he'd would have wanted anyone to go. No one ever. She must have moved her face closer too because he'd been able to feel her breath on his back. Not anymore. The touch had stirred something instinctual. Something he didn't want to feel anymore. A familiar feeling he'd gotten from a girl of another sort. Dark, uncontrollable if not monitored. Something he didn't want to have to worry about or bother with anymore. Something dangerous.

"You should go," he says, glaring now. It's the only face he can make to keep from expressing his embarrassment, but there's some noticeable redness on his face. Lots of it rather since it's kind of hard to hide a blush when one doesn't have much color to cover it. For all Jackie knows it could be anger…not embarrassment. I'm flustered. That's all. He'd liked how that had felt. It was human. It was real. It wasn't something he was supposed to have. He was a terrible person. Terrible people didn't get to feel this. They didn't deserve this kind of happy. Especially not this kind. This dark and instinctual kind of happiness. Not so much happiness so much as…don't say it. Pleasure.

He pulls the back of his shirt down and stands a little taller. Becoming intimidating without much effort. "I know you're just looking, but…get out. Get out of my room. I know what you're getting at. Can't you just leave me alone?"

Jackie looks hurt, and Tom realizes that he must be yelling. He can't even tell anymore. "What is your problem?" she asks defensively. "One second you're calm, and the next you're mad at me."

"I'm my problem. I don't want to be your problem. Get out. Please. I said please. Take the paperwork. Get out. I'm busy…" he rambles on not even sure if he's making any sense. Forget being a gentleman. What's that? He doesn't know when she got there, but Jackie's standing in front of him, eyes searching his face for something. More investigating, but it's different than before. Looking for a reason…there is no reason. There's just poor, crazy, Tom. Can't you just accept that? I have…

"Tom, cut it out. What'd I do? Shit, Tom…Tom, are you listening to me?" She sounds frantic. He must be scaring her. Good. She'll be more likely to leave. Maybe never come back. Tom hates himself for it, but he knows it's for the best. I'm only like this because I care too fucking much. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear her words. She might make him feel bad…worse about what he's saying. What he's doing. I'm pushing you away. Again.

"I said…Get. Out. Fuck. Jackie, get out. I don't want to talk. Shit…get the fuck out. Please…you don't want this. Trust me. I know you don't. You won't." Tom's hands have gone to his head; he's not looking at Jackie anymore. He's looking at the door. Out. Oh, please just get out. You…you're too nice to me.

"I didn't even do anything!" Jackie grabs his wrists and pulls them away from his head. Tom makes an oddly guttural noise and yanks his hands away harshly. Jackie's indignation turns to pain. She wants to say something, but she's holding back. "Ok, look…I'm getting out. Bye, Tom. Tell Sebs I say hi. Just stop yelling at me. Christ," she says, walking past Tom who doesn't even seem to hear her. "You know, Tom…you're going to be very lonely for a very long time," she adds, the niceness she'd been trying to maintain giving way to her emotions. She's trying to make Tom upset now. "A very long time…" The door slams, and she's gone. You have no fucking idea.

Tom stands, doesn't even look like he's breathing, in silence until he realizes his heart has stopped pounding. Slowly his legs get the message to move and he returns to his bed. His head hurts and he doesn't care if he's sitting on the bed with his shoes on the covers. I don't care. I'm the only one who uses this fucking thing.

He rubs his eye. Crying? No…just a little watery like something got in it. No, I'm not crying I got something in my eye. My only eye. He wants to press his face into the bed and just yell until he can't talk anymore, but he knows it'll smell like her. Like a fucking dog I'll know it. No, he can't allow himself that. You don't deserve it. You know what happened last time. You fuck up. You stupid, stupid, man. How could you let it get this bad? Don't you learn from your mistakes?

He feels like his stomach is going to fall out of him. Grabbing a pillow he bites down on it and groans. It's a selfish and pained sound, and he could swear he's forgotten what contentedness feels like.

No one told him it could still get this bad. He thought he was done with this. He presses his face deeper into the pillow and bites down harder groaning again. Mourning his own stupidity. The muffled sound is so pathetic and defeated sounding it only makes him feel worse. Why do I do this to myself?The groaning turns to cursing and then to unintelligible yelling until he can't yell anymore. Tom's headache is gone, but it's replaced with light-headedness and he falls backward onto the bed, nausea suddenly cropping up at the sudden change in orientation. His eye closes and he begins slipping slowly into the deathlike sleep of someone who has nothing else within them.