A/N: If you are having a rotten day, or even a rotten week(maybe even a rotten month)..it will get better. Not right away, but you're going to be okay. Just think of your loved ones, breathe, and read some fluffy fanfiction..preferably some happy ones. Without further ado, I present to you…
Some Nights Are Longer Than Others
A JackxSally(shocking, I know)
It was the middle of the night when Sally broke down, dropping hard to her knees on the dirty floor and letting go of one long-dammed sob. The one was the first in a half-strangled string that soon led to full-fledged weeping. The empty room lobbed the sounds right back at her ears once they'd bounced off the stone walls and high ceiling. The bluish ragdoll pressed both teeny hands to her trembling mouth and rocked just slightly. It was one in the morning and her stomach hurt. The Finklesteins were out. Igor was snoring in his kennel. Sunrise seemed hopelessly out of reach.
She was terrified to be left alone with herself. She wanted to rip every seam on her body and shred her skin to pieces so she could escape- even for a few hours! Her tiny fabric hands itched with the urge to pull herself apart and deliver hurt to her slender neck and wrists. Blinded by tears, Sally drove a needle through her pinky and withdrew it slowly. Hang it all, why couldn't she feel pain like a normal person? Oh, right- because she wasn't one. She was a socially awkward, frumpy, cowardly bunch of leaves held together by fabric the color of spoiled cheese and dozens upon dozens of unsightly stitches.
Drowning in dark feelings and panicked at the very real possibility that she might never resurface, Sally screamed. It was a raw, agonized burst of frustration that didn't so much as make Igor twitch. Desperate to come up for air, the patchwork creation gave in to impulse. She ripped open her shoulder. Colored leaves spun to the floor in dizzy circles as she tore them out in frenzied handfuls. There. Now she was as undone as she felt. "Wuff!" A blur of orange nearly hit her in the eye.
"Ahh!" she yelped, startled beyond words. A teeny ghost dog held her leaf-filled hand in his mouth, whining. His empty eyes were pinched with sadness and worry. "Zero!" He curled into her neck even as she pulled him close. "Oh, please, boy," she sobbed, "Don't go." His tail swept across her soaked cheek as he nuzzled her free hand with his nose as if to say I won't. Bone scraped on stone, then metal. A skull popped up at the window. "Sally!" "Jack!" Instantly, the gentle redhead was consumed by the need to hide from him. At the same time, she felt a physical pull to nestle in his arms and forget the world. She swiped at her face with the back of the hand that Zero wasn't holding and pushed her yarn hair out of her eyes, trying in vain to look a little more presentable for the Pumpkin King.
Jack's hands gripped the bars of the window. "Sally, let me in." Shame and longing swept through her, going for each others' throats. His left hand momentarily lost its grip. Alarm flared in her breast and swept across what passed for her skin, turning it prickly and cold. Concern overrode self-consciousness in an instant, and Sally found herself unlocking the window before her arm was quite conscious of what it was doing. Sweeping one ragged sleeve across her eyes to clear her vision, the smart redhead implored, "Hold on!" Bone clanked on metal as Jack got a better grip. "It's alright. I'm fine." She pushed the window out about a foot and a half. "That's plenty." He told her. She did her best to hold the window steady. The skeleton king effortlessly slipped into the room one spidery leg and shoulderbone at a time.
Sally offered him an(attached) arm for support, which he took only to pull her into his chest once his feet were firmly planted on solid carpet. His dry breath stirred a lock of her hair as he whispered, with indescribable sadness, "Oh, my Sally…what've you done?" Though there was no blame or reproach in his words, the hurt infusing them was enough to send her careening over that dangerous edge again. A sob tore from her downturned lips, and she hid her face in his chest. She felt his arms encircle her more firmly and lose their give in the most comforting of ways.
His skull came to rest on the top of her head as his bony hand gathered and slowly traced furrows through sections of her long red mane. Kiss after soft little kiss was pressed into her wickedly throbbing temple, telling it shhh, shhh. Sally's tiny fists shortly lost what little feeling they had in their grip on his jacket. She snuffled, the sound wet and embarrassingly loud in her ears, and whimpered into his embrace. One of his hands slid to her shoulder and rubbed slow, rhythmic circles into her trembling flesh. She didn't fight him when he started gently backing away from the window, nor did she raise her face from his increasingly damp chest.
Complaining springs rasped as the Pumpkin King lowered himself onto her bed and patted his kneebone invitingly. Sally pulled herself into his lap and turned her cheek in to his shoulder. His hand rubbed her back and shoulders, driving out anxious tension in increments until both were more comfortable. Sally's tears dried up before she calmed down. Jack held her till she'd physically quieted. Then he gently set her down and stood. He bent down and began painstakingly retrieving fallen leaves from the desk and floor. The patchwork redhead bit her lip and rose to help him. "Here—" "No, I've got it." She looked at her lap, one hand curled uncertainly in the hem of her dress, and waited for him to finish.
Once he'd collected all of the leaves, Jack sat down again. He cradled the small bundle to him. He held a spool of thread and a glimmering needle in his free hand. Both objects were stark against his delicate fingerbones. Sally couldn't look at him as he bundled her to his side and stuffed the leaves back into the rift between her neck and arm. He did so with such tenderness, every brush of his fingers ginger but deliberate. His hand trembled a little. "Why?" It was the question they'd both been avoiding. She didn't have the words to express the black sucking emptiness that threatened to leave her abandoned with no hope of redemption for tomorrow. Hating how her voice cracked and wavered, Sally finally forced herself to push out the first truth that made sense: "I'm hurting."
The ragdoll mentally cringed the second that she said it; what she'd just said was painfully obvious. Mercifully, Jack didn't say as much. His hand patted her leaves down as his other hand came in with the needle. "Why?" How could one syllable be so damning? Sally's stomach twisted, and she closed her weary eyes. "I…felt…" What? Powerless? Numb? Like the world was slipping away from me and I'd never be able to hold on? "…alone." Okay, it was overly simplistic again, but it tapped into the right vein. "Alone, and…" How could she express to him how badly she needed to flee from herself? The terrible, driving panic that refused to fit nicely into conventional words. "….worthless." The word came out flat and almost dead.
To her surprise, it summarized much of the seemingly conflicting feelings that were currently tearing her up inside. Zero whined and curled up in her lap. Jack was uncharacteristically quiet as he did his best with the needle. Twice he faltered and had to start over. Sally reached up and took his hand in hers. Gently, she guided his fingers, making the new stitches perfectly straight and snug. They tied off the last suture, and Jack snipped the thread. "Thank you." Whispered Sally. The master of fright surprised her by sweeping her into a blush-raising, pulse-racing kiss.
When they parted, the gentle ragdoll realized that the salt that she'd tasted had been a tear trailing down his cheek. As she reached up to dab it away, he took her hand and held it to his face like a precious gem. "Oh, my precious Sally. Are you really alone?" His question gave her pause. Igor was there, even if he wasn't awake. The sleeping town was far from empty. She would be relieved of her house-sitting duties in a few days when the doctor and his bride returned from their honeymoon.
Yet she felt all alone in the world… "No…" The answer sounded lackluster in her own ears. Jack kissed each of her tiny knuckles. His half-lidded sockets radiated gentleness. "That's right," he told her, "Because you have friends—" (Zero licked those of her fingers that were stroking his head) "—who would die for you." He pressed his cheek to hers, sandwiching her hand tenderly in between their faces. "And you have my heart, for what it's worth." If she could have cried any more, she would have. "Oh Jack." She breathed. A hint of fierceness crept into his tone, and the skeleton king's hand squeezed hers a little bit tighter.
"You are not alone, and you are most certainly not worthless." Sure. Says the popular, scariest, most indispensable monster in town. He lifted her chin so she could see his furrowed brow and concern-pinched eyes. "You're the best seamstress in all the holidays." "That's more of a requirement for my life than a skill, but that's sweet of-" "Shh. I wasn't finished." She shushed. "You're the voice of reason in a town that badly needs it. You're a breath of gentleness in a rough-and-tumble world. You're bright. You're kind even to stray cats and strangers." He rested his forehead on hers. She could taste his breath as the colorful ruler whispered, "And I could not live without you-" A beat. "Ohhh, you know what I mean." She did. The gentle ragdoll nestled deeper into his arms, guilt twisting her stomach.
She'd never intended to hurt Jack or add to his substantial list of worries. "I love you, Jack." She whispered, tucking her other hand into his. "I love you too, Sally." "I-I'm sorry..." "I'm just glad that you're okay." Softly, he added, "Some nights are longer than others." Protectiveness, compassion, and now understanding. Was it any wonder she was in love with him? She nuzzled his shoulder, and he kissed her hair. "They certainly are." Sally bit back a yawn. Now that her tears had ebbed, she felt quite tired. It was getting on towards two in the morning, and she hadn't had more than a few hours' sleep yesterday. But as long as Jack was here, she wanted to stay awake and give him her full attention.
A moment later, Jack's chest swelled and his jaws parted in a cavernous yawn that could only be partially hidden by his hand. "Oh, excuse me. It's getting late…" "Yes, it is." She got up. "I'm sorry to have kept-" He pulled her back into his lap. "-you…" "Sally," he told her, firmly, "You didn't interrupt anything more than a very late- er, early, I suppose- walk." His arms tightened, but not enough to hurt. "And there is nothing more important to me than keeping you safe." I don't deserve him. Then again, she knew that. There was a pause where Jack rocked Sally in his arms, whether he was aware that he was doing so or not. Sally became exponentially sleepier, and she hid a small yawn behind her hand. Jack noticed.
"Sally, since you can't come home with me…could I stay?" "Here?" she asked, and instantly wanted to smack her forehead. He nodded. Worrying earnestly at her lip, Sally nodded. The master of fright smiled for the first time since he'd arrived. He motioned to Zero. The ghost dog whisked over to Sally's desk and blew out her candle. Soothing blackness instantly enveloped the small room. Jack laid down with his love in his arms, pulling the home-stitched quilt over them as she descended onto the thin mattress. He curled around Sally as she melted into his chest.
Zero cuddled beneath their intertwined hands and soon dropped off into a secure rest punctuated periodically by little doggy snores. Sally leaned up and kissed Jack on the mouth. He kissed her back and gave her a little affectionate squeeze. Her consciousness drifted away with the last wisp of smoke from the extinguished candle. She left her worries behind and slipped into dreams as the Pumpkin King cuddled her close and snored into her scalp sutures. They had made it to another day.