Disclaimer: No, I don't own MGS 1 or 2, or the characters...;__; If I did,
I'd probably be... tracking down the people who don't put disclaimers in
their stories and getting all their money
Authors Notes: Hello everyone! This is a Shelley only story! ^-^ I hope you enjoy it! I thought I should write it because there aren't many angsty stories about Jack that involve all the other characters, so I thought I'd write one...? Well, I hope you enjoy, I'm not really positive if I'm going to finish it, but enough people like it, I probably will :D So, in that sense, I think Read, enjoy, and review! I read somewhere once, "Flames fuel my writing soul!" Or something like that unless my story is outright bad... then I'll consider revision. ^^ And many thanks to Nicci! For being my writing support! And even threw propane into my muse's flame... Did that even make sense? Anyways, on with the story! :D
Jack stared down at the grave in front of him. He whispered the name etched into the stone slab. "Rosemary Ann Shelton." It sounded fake even to his own ears, but he had never been sure what her real name was. So he just had the name put on that she'd told him from the start. He had no one to ask, he didn't know any of her family. He'd bought her a simple tombstone, only detailing her name. He hadn't had very much money, so he bought what he could. He hadn't had enough to hold her a funeral though.
Jack shut his eyes and forced himself to relive the painful memory, it had been a year ago, today. They were in the car together, nine months after the eradication of Arsenal Gear, and they were on their way to the Emergency, Rose had begun to have labor pains. They'd both been so excited, ever since the Big Shell accident, everything had become wonderful. They'd even bought a small house together, after their perfect wedding. They had managed to lead a wonderfully, simple life.
But that night things became complicated for Jack. As they crossed the intersection, one careless, drunken man ruined everything for him. He barreled into the passenger's side of the car, instantly killing Rose, and his unborn child. He never went back to their home after that. He didn't feel the need, or the want. He'd rented a dingy apartment for about two months, before being kicked out for neglecting his rent.
Jack was a wreck right now, but he felt like he should be sober for his visit to Rose's gravesite. Now that he was finished, he exited the cemetery and quickly retreated back to the bottle clutched in his hand, no doubt, quickly giving up his sobriety.
As he stumbled through the streets, he reached up and pulled his hood over his head. Jack felt even worse than he usually did. Maybe he was sick; he didn't consider this seriously until he felt the burning sensation at the back of his throat, and a sudden burst of vomit erupted from his lips. He leaned over the curb and let the liquidy contents of his stomach splash onto the street.
He stumbled forward, down the sidewalk, until he suddenly felt sick again. He lurched forwards, and clawed at his stomach. It felt horrible, Jack felt like he needed to heave, but he had nothing left in his stomach; his throat was contorting and constricting. His head was swimming, and his temples were pounding. Jack couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He'd never taken to alcohol like this before; he usually just got drunk and passed out on a park bench.
He walked forwards, feeling incredibly weak, before he lost his footing, and slipped. Just as Jack fell forwards, the person in front of him grabbed him beneath his elbows, preventing him from meeting the pavement. He looked up and immediately recognized the man. It was Snake. Why Snake, of all people? Jack practically idolized him, and he most certainly didn't want Snake to see him in his current state.
Snake recognized him, but it took him longer, since Jack looked so much different than he did since Snake last saw him. His hair was longer, but more tangled and dirty. Snake could tell he had lost weight from the way his already small clothes dangled from his body. Once Snake realized who it was though, he immediately took his hands off. He looked at Jack, wondering what was wrong with him. "Shit Raiden, what happened to you?"
Jack glared up at Snake. He didn't want to tell him anything, Jack didn't want to add to the list of people who knew his story; mainly people he'd told when drunk. So, he didn't answer.
Author's Notes: Yep, I'm stopping there. Well, please review, if you liked it, thank you!! If you didn't, please tell me why, and I'll try to improve on it. I'm only here to please the masses :D And another biiiiiiiig thanks to my best pal Nicci! She's the best person you could wish for, to help you write! ^^ She's there telling me how great it is after I instant message her each paragraph, as I write it :D Chapter 2 should be up soon, I'm not into big delays. :D
Authors Notes: Hello everyone! This is a Shelley only story! ^-^ I hope you enjoy it! I thought I should write it because there aren't many angsty stories about Jack that involve all the other characters, so I thought I'd write one...? Well, I hope you enjoy, I'm not really positive if I'm going to finish it, but enough people like it, I probably will :D So, in that sense, I think Read, enjoy, and review! I read somewhere once, "Flames fuel my writing soul!" Or something like that unless my story is outright bad... then I'll consider revision. ^^ And many thanks to Nicci! For being my writing support! And even threw propane into my muse's flame... Did that even make sense? Anyways, on with the story! :D
Jack stared down at the grave in front of him. He whispered the name etched into the stone slab. "Rosemary Ann Shelton." It sounded fake even to his own ears, but he had never been sure what her real name was. So he just had the name put on that she'd told him from the start. He had no one to ask, he didn't know any of her family. He'd bought her a simple tombstone, only detailing her name. He hadn't had very much money, so he bought what he could. He hadn't had enough to hold her a funeral though.
Jack shut his eyes and forced himself to relive the painful memory, it had been a year ago, today. They were in the car together, nine months after the eradication of Arsenal Gear, and they were on their way to the Emergency, Rose had begun to have labor pains. They'd both been so excited, ever since the Big Shell accident, everything had become wonderful. They'd even bought a small house together, after their perfect wedding. They had managed to lead a wonderfully, simple life.
But that night things became complicated for Jack. As they crossed the intersection, one careless, drunken man ruined everything for him. He barreled into the passenger's side of the car, instantly killing Rose, and his unborn child. He never went back to their home after that. He didn't feel the need, or the want. He'd rented a dingy apartment for about two months, before being kicked out for neglecting his rent.
Jack was a wreck right now, but he felt like he should be sober for his visit to Rose's gravesite. Now that he was finished, he exited the cemetery and quickly retreated back to the bottle clutched in his hand, no doubt, quickly giving up his sobriety.
As he stumbled through the streets, he reached up and pulled his hood over his head. Jack felt even worse than he usually did. Maybe he was sick; he didn't consider this seriously until he felt the burning sensation at the back of his throat, and a sudden burst of vomit erupted from his lips. He leaned over the curb and let the liquidy contents of his stomach splash onto the street.
He stumbled forward, down the sidewalk, until he suddenly felt sick again. He lurched forwards, and clawed at his stomach. It felt horrible, Jack felt like he needed to heave, but he had nothing left in his stomach; his throat was contorting and constricting. His head was swimming, and his temples were pounding. Jack couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. He'd never taken to alcohol like this before; he usually just got drunk and passed out on a park bench.
He walked forwards, feeling incredibly weak, before he lost his footing, and slipped. Just as Jack fell forwards, the person in front of him grabbed him beneath his elbows, preventing him from meeting the pavement. He looked up and immediately recognized the man. It was Snake. Why Snake, of all people? Jack practically idolized him, and he most certainly didn't want Snake to see him in his current state.
Snake recognized him, but it took him longer, since Jack looked so much different than he did since Snake last saw him. His hair was longer, but more tangled and dirty. Snake could tell he had lost weight from the way his already small clothes dangled from his body. Once Snake realized who it was though, he immediately took his hands off. He looked at Jack, wondering what was wrong with him. "Shit Raiden, what happened to you?"
Jack glared up at Snake. He didn't want to tell him anything, Jack didn't want to add to the list of people who knew his story; mainly people he'd told when drunk. So, he didn't answer.
Author's Notes: Yep, I'm stopping there. Well, please review, if you liked it, thank you!! If you didn't, please tell me why, and I'll try to improve on it. I'm only here to please the masses :D And another biiiiiiiig thanks to my best pal Nicci! She's the best person you could wish for, to help you write! ^^ She's there telling me how great it is after I instant message her each paragraph, as I write it :D Chapter 2 should be up soon, I'm not into big delays. :D